Carter was on me in a second, rubbing his hands over my head and neck. “Are you okay?” he said, his voice deep. “Why are you so scared? What happened?”
It was then I realized I was scared. Because I had let down my friend.
“No one followed him,” Thomas said, stepping beside his son. I could feel the heat off both of them.
“He’s not injured,” Carter said. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “Did someone hurt you?”
I shook my head. “Joe,” I said. “Joe. I forgot. He—”
“Ah,” Thomas said. “That explains it.”
Carter dropped his hands and took a step back. Now he only looked annoyed. “You’re an asshole, Ox.”
“Carter,” his father snapped as I recoiled. “That’s enough.”
“But he’s—”
“Enough.”
With that one word, all I wanted to do was make everything better. To do whatever Thomas told me to do. And I couldn’t figure out why.
Carter sighed. “Sorry, Ox. It’s just…. Joe, man. He’s Joe.”
I hung my head.
“Dad,” Carter said quietly. “Don’t you think he should know already? He’s pack.”
“Inside,” Thomas said.
Carter didn’t say another word. He was back up the porch and inside, shutting the door to the Bennett house.
“Is he okay?” I asked Thomas, unable to look at him.
“He will be,” Thomas said.
“I didn’t mean….”
“I know, Ox.”
I looked up at Thomas. He wasn’t angry. He was just sad. “I’ll walk you home.”
I thought to argue. To tell him I just wanted to see Joe for a minute, to tell him I was sorry. But his tone left no room for argument, so I just nodded and followed him, feet dragging in the dirt.
“Is she nice?” Thomas asked.
“Who?”
“The girl.”
I shrugged. “She’s okay. She seems like a good person.”
“And you haven’t had many of those,” Thomas asked. It was not a question.
“I do now,” I said honestly. Because I did.
“You do,” he said. “Sometimes I forget you’re only sixteen. You’ve got an old soul, Oxnard.”
I didn’t know if that was good or bad, so I said nothing.