Prologue
Prologue- Three years ago
Sky
I am so high from this feat that I feel like I’m floating. I never imagined coming this far, making something of my life instead of just suffering through it.
“You did it, sweet girl,” Malcolm says as he pulls me into a hug. Malcolm, the big teddy bear, is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real father. And Claire is there, too, her face shining with pride. The MC members from Valor have come too and they’re living it up; I’ve got a cheering section louder than anyone else in the whole high school. A year ago, I would have thought graduating at all was an impossibility, but here I am not only making my dreams come true, but doing it with a family. A whole slew of amazing people who care about me and claim me as their own. Simply put, there is no better feeling in the world.
“Thank you for coming, Malcolm,” I say into his arm.
“You kidding, Sky? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I can hear in his voice the conflicting emotions he’s having—happy to be here, but yearning for Claire at the same time. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s staring at her now right over my shoulder while we hug. I know all about Clair’s sleepless night with the sobs I can hear through the wall that separates her bedroom from mine. But there’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll work it out. The two of them are soulmates and it’s just a matter of time before they realize they can’t live without one another.
I can feel the tension between them as we pose for photos, but I don’t let it weigh me down. I feel radiant and proud and I’m walking on air today. The men of Valor are gathered around and garner so many looks from the parents and teachers and even my classmates. I don’t care about the stares because those men make me feel proud. I know that there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for me and that they see me as Malcolm’s daughter. It’s a pretty heady feeling to go from abandoned and alone to being a part of the coolest family ever.
When we’re finally finished with our photo shoot, I make a point of thanking each one of the guys. They didn’t have to show up for me, but they did, and I want to let them know just how much it means to me.
Some of the guys pull me in for a friendly hug, and others just pump my hand in a hard shake or pat me on the shoulder. A few of them hand me cards filled with cash or gift cards and my eyes swell with tears.
When I reach Patriot, he looks withdrawn and I know with him it will be an awkward handshake. But as I near him, I halt in my tracks. Something about Patriot’s sadness speaks to my own. I can imagine he’s had a past as dark as mine. Without dissecting my motive, I rush to him and hug him myself. He waits a beat and then brings his arms around me hesitantly. When he pulls me close, I feel my breath catch in my throat. Being this near to a damaged soul sparks a sort of fierce affinity in me. Patriot has been hurt like I have and he deserves better too.
“Thank you for coming,” I say. My chin rests on his shoulder. He pushes me away gently and looks directly into my face without saying anything.
“Oh, my God,” I catch myself. My hand flies to cover my mouth in shame. Patriot is hearing impaired and he has to read lips to understand. How could I be so stupid. I tear my hand from my mouth and look at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say. Patriot continues to stare at my mouth and a flame ignites low in my belly as he scrutinizes my lips. “I forgot, Patriot, I was just thanking you for coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, Skylar. You made it happen, it’s an accomplishment to be proud of.”
He is so stoic, the epitome of closed off and untouchable, and for some stupid reason, that moves me immensely. I want to crack him open and peek inside, know the dark parts of him.
It’s unnerving to look at someone so intently, get lost in their golden hour hazel eyes that never stop staring. But I know with Patriot looking away is not an option. He’s deaf in one ear and hearing impaired in the other. I remember when Malcolm told me. He’d come with Malcolm to the shelter and the two of them stayed for lunch. When I asked Patriot what he wanted to drink, I was standing behind him. Malcolm elbowed his friend and Patriot turned to look at me. I stopped with my pitcher of lemonade and Patriot nodded almost imperceptibly. I wasn’t sure what it all meant, but I was intrigued by the interaction.