Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

“Yeah,” I said. “I did. It felt like mine even when it wasn’t. I felt safe here. And it was the only time I felt happy.” But I felt my body go numb when I said, “A boy in my school came here too.”

She sensed what I was feeling because she pulled me closer to her, as if she were trying to protect me.

“I first saw him behind the school grounds. He was getting beat up by these bullies. Three to one. I hated seeing that shit. Fucking cowards. So I beat them up.”

“You beat up three bullies? How? Bet you were big back then too, huh?” she teased.

I knew she was trying to lighten the mood, and I appreciated it, but nothing could make this better.

“I wished I was bigger when I was a kid,” she went on. “It would have been easier to defend myself.” She gave me an approving look. “That’s pretty awesome of you though.”

She wouldn’t think so after she heard everything. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach.

“How old were you then?”

“Eight,” I replied.

“And your friend?”

“Same age as me.”

“And how old were those bullies?”

“One was in my grade, the other two were older by a couple of years.”

“It’s easier to assume the bigger and older bullies were the worst, but that’s not always the case.”

I looked at her, waiting for her to tell me more, but she shook her head. I studied her face. It sounded like she had dealt with bullies when she was younger. The thought of her getting bullied made me angry because I wasn’t there to defend her. But I bet she fought hard and defended herself pretty damn well.

“I’ll tell you about my childhood woes next time. Keep going, Cam.”

I wondered if she was aware she’d called me Cam. She did before too, when we were kissing. I would have smiled if we were elsewhere.

“So you defended this boy against these shitheads. What happened next?”

I could see the bend now. A few more turns and we’d be there.

“He wanted to be friends. I kept avoiding him. I didn’t want a friend and told him I’d beat the crap out of him if he kept at it, but he wasn’t intimidated.”

“You did save him from those assholes. You were his savior, so that automatically made you his friend.” She smiled, encouraging me to keep going.

“Probably. In any case, he kept following me. Until one day we just started hanging out.”

“Sweet.”

I clenched my jaw. There was nothing damn sweet about it.

“He found out about the maze from me. I showed it to him. He was scared at first, like most kids, but I told him I’d been hanging out here almost every day for the past few months. I didn’t want to show him at first. I was selfish with it, but he wanted to hang out with me. I wasn’t going any place else. I was addicted to this place. I wanted to find out every secret door, every nook and cranny. I was going to memorize everything about this maze. I had a map.”

She didn’t say anything, just listened.

“But he was better at it, though.” I smiled a little, remembering, but it felt stiff. “He found more hidden spots than I did. He was smaller than me, thinner, almost malnourished, really. It was easier for him to squeeze through the bushes. I found out later on he was a foster kid and his foster parents didn’t feed him. Sometimes they’d kick him out and make him sleep outside.”

I heard her gasp of outrage. She was quiet for a while and then she asked, “You let him stay with you, didn’t you? You gave him food. You took care of him.”

“I shouldn’t have. I should’ve made him stay away from me. I shouldn’t have let him be my friend.”

“Why?”