Wicked Lies Boys Tell

Dad swipes away at the blood with one hand and cradles his dick with the other. “You’re going down, trash. You won’t get away with this.”

Cope reaches into his pocket and flips open a knife. My dad’s eyes widen in pure fear. All I can do is watch in horror, pain rendering me immobile.

“Cope,” I croak out. “P-Please don’t d-do this. Don’t get t-taken away because of him. He’s not f-fucking worth it.”

Cope jabs the tip of the blade under my dad’s chin, forcing him to look up. Then, he turns to regard me. “He needs to know I’m not fucking playing,” Cope tells me. His head snaps back to my dad. “You need to know I’m serious, Jason. I’ve watched you beat the living shit out of Penn our entire lives. I couldn’t do anything about it back then, but I sure as fuck am going to do something about it now.”

“You can’t do shit,” Dad says, his voice shaking despite the venomous intent of his words.

Cope digs the blade into Dad’s flesh until he cries out in pain. “I will come for you. I will find you. I will fucking gut you. Are we clear? I love him and I’ll be damned if you ever even think about looking at him again.”

“You’re going to regret this,” Dad warns Cope. “People like you end up gone from my town. I make problems like you go away.”

“You can fucking try,” Cope growls. “I think you forget who you’re talking to. I’m a Justice. You mess with me and you’ll deal with my dad. He’s the only person in this town not afraid of you. Besides me.”

Dad has his poker face on, but I don’t miss the subtle flinch at the mention of Bryan. “I want him out of this house in two minutes.”

As soon as he’s gone, Cope rushes to my side. He strokes his fingers through my hair, concern furrowing his brows. “Jesus, Penn. What the hell did he do to you?”

Tears of shame leak out of my eyes. Nobody wants to be weak. Nobody wants to be curled on the floor in pain because their dad likes to whip up on them.

“Don’t,” he utters lowly, gently swiping a tear away with his thumb. “Don’t cry on me. Please.” His own bottom lip trembles. If I could move, I’d stop it with my thumb. Then, my lips.

“W-Where w-will w-we g-g-go?” I stutter out, my entire body shaking in pain.

“Anywhere but here.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “But wherever we go, it’ll always be together.”

No broken bones. Plenty of bruises. A slight concussion.

But free.

I’m free.

Officer White clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him where he sits in a chair beside the hospital bed. Cope has his arms locked around me, both of our legs swinging like we’re kids sitting on the edge of the bed.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to press charges?” he asks, his brows furrowing.

Officer White is new to the police department. My dad and his friends haven’t corrupted him yet. He’s fresh out of the academy, trying to do right by the law. Me, getting my ass beat by my own dad, has his face turning red with anger as he scribbles down more notes on his pad.

“I, uh,” I stammer, my head throbbing in pain.

“Can we come back later, Officer?” Cope asks. “He just needs to crash for a few hours.”

Officer White presses his lips together and nods before standing. “Don’t let too much time pass. Sometimes, victims forget how badly their perpetrators hurt them. From what your friend here said, you tend to forget a lot over the years.”

“Boyfriend,” Cope corrects him, challenging him with a glare.

“If you care about your boyfriend, get him back to the station,” Officer White tells him. He regards me once more. “I know your father is a big deal around here, but even he isn’t above the law. He needs to be held accountable for what he did to you.”

With those words, he leaves. It takes another hour before I’m hobbling out of the hospital, Cope gripping my arm so I don’t fall. When he walks us to his Camaro, I look at him in confusion. “Did your dad give you back your car?”

“Nope,” he says with a laugh. “I stole it.”

I start to chuckle, but it makes my ribs and back hurt. “Owwww,” I grumble. “Don’t say funny shit.”

He snorts as he opens the passenger door. “I’m a funny guy. I can’t help it.”

It hurts as I ease myself into the bucket seat, but once I’m settled, I relax and pull my belt on. He closes the door and then hops in on the other side.

“Where do we go now?” I ask, my head still throbbing.

“Home.”

I tense. “I can’t go back there. And we can’t go to yours either.”