“It’s too late for a lecture,” I warn.
“You’re coming home.”
“Not—”
“It’s not a discussion!” she whisper-yells.
Her green eyes catch fire, and I flinch, because she scares me. My parents have a knack for getting everything they want. I didn’t inherit that trait, unfortunately.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. “That asshole has a warrant out for me,” I tell her.
“You know we’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t want it taken care of,” I retort, hardening my voice more than I know I should. “I want him gone.”
She drops her eyes, shaking her head. “Hawke—”
“Ricky was high on his shit when he crashed the car,” I say.
She stops, slowly raising her eyes, and I can see the sadness over the loss five years ago. My parents used to take kids in. Kids like Aro. Ricky was sixteen, and the last foster they did. He’s gone, and they still feel like it’s their fault.
We stare at each other in silence as I wait for her to understand. I can’t let this guy go. He’s terrorizing a community that’s too comfortable to challenge him.
“What am I supposed to say here?” she asks. “If you were me, would you just let your son take matters into his own hands?”
“No.”
Of course not. I understand her position. She doesn’t want anything that puts me in danger. I get it.
But I stop, Aro popping into my head and the sudden understanding of how different our lives are. I mean, I knew it, but I didn’t fully get it until now.
No one will come and save her. I have a dozen ready to stand in front of me and block danger.
I made a deal with her. I should stick to it.
“There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” I say as gently as possible.
She looks at me, her chest caving a little and looking deflated. Like she can’t believe I just said that.
It’s true, though. I’m eighteen. She’s not wrong, but neither am I. I’m doing this.
“I think that no matter how good your parents are or how rich you are, kids are going to get into trouble,” I tell her. “You did everything you were supposed to, but I’m not backing down.”
I kiss her cheek and turn to walk away, but then I hear her call out behind me. “What can I do?”
I look up, seeing Dylan climbing into her car and Noah handing her a helmet.
I turn, relief flooding me. “Can you ask Madoc to talk to the police? Find out where I’m standing with all of this?”
I need to know how much trouble I’m really in.
She nods, and I continue. “And antibiotics from Tate.”
Her eyebrows touch her hairline, but I assure her, “It’s not for me. Just in case, though.”
She relaxes.
“And, um…” I pull out my phone, texting her again. “Can you have someone check on this address?” I know she has contacts with CPS. “It’s two kids and a mom. Don’t…do anything yet. I just want to make sure they’re okay.”
Not all foster kids are lucky enough to be placed in homes like my parents’, and if they’re sent farther away, that could trigger Aro. But I don’t trust her mother, even if I did remove the stepdad.
“Are they relatives of that girl?” she asks.
I nod.
“I’ll make a call today,” she says.
I approach her and hug her again. “Thanks.” I pull back. “I’ll be in touch. If you don’t hear from me in forty-eight hours, drag the river.”
Her eyes go round, and I just laugh. “I’m kidding.”
She slaps me on the arm, about to cry. “It’s not funny!”
I kiss her forehead, still laughing. “I’ll be in touch. Tell Dad I’m fine.”
I pull my mask back up and head through people again, making my way to the bleachers where Tommy still sits by herself at the top. Looking over, Noah still talks to Dylan as her engine starts, and I see Kade chatting with friends nearby.
I wish he’d show some damn concern. I can’t be the only one watching out for her around these guys. He used to be pretty protective, but after Hunter left, things changed.
I round the side of the bleachers and jump up on the side, climbing up and slipping onto the top bench so I can avoid all the eyes.
I take a seat behind Tommy, her beer cupped in her hands, still half-full. She stares out at the track, barely noticing as I take the drink from her hand and down a gulp. Following her gaze, I see Kade staring at her and not looking happy that she’s here.
Her head bows a little.
“You know why he does that?” I hand the beer back to her. “Because it works.”
On the one hand, I get it. Her dad fucked up in a way that’ll never be forgiven and accepting her would be saying we can look past all of that when we can’t. It’s not her fault. It just sucks.