Olivia
When we pull into the drive at Tanglewood, I take my hair out of the messy bun, and I muss it up so that it covers my face. I know it won’t hide the wounds, but as desperate as I’d been to get to August, I’m terrified of going inside. I’m afraid of his reaction, and what he’ll do once he figures out who did this.
Xena has calmed some. I’m not sure Betty knows that anything was amiss, but Josiah and I are both shaking like leaves in a windstorm. I slowly climb out of the car while he sits there. He’s in shock. He didn’t say a word after we left his street. Not that there was much to say—we’re both pretty shaken up.
I stiffly walk to the back door of the SUV and open it. Xena jumps out. She sniffs the ground, no doubt scenting Zora on the air, but she doesn’t follow the trail far, preferring instead to keep close. I reach in and take Betty from Josiah who sits in the front seat, panting as if he’s just run a marathon. Poor kid. While I’m betting he’s no stranger to a beating—how could he be with a father like that?—I think that maybe this is the first time he’s ever fought back, and it takes some getting your head around. Finally standing up for yourself can make you feel vulnerable in ways you never imagined.
“Are you gonna sit here all night, or are you coming inside?”
He turns to me with a shell-shocked expression. “You defended me.”
“Couldn’t let you take all the glory,” I say with a humorless laugh. No part of this is funny, but if I don’t laugh, I will crumple under the weight of this fear and sadness.
“No one has ever done that for me before.”
“That’s what you do for friends, Josiah,” I say quietly. “It’s what you do for family.”
“But we’re not family. You barely even know me.”
“Honey, I’ve been putting up with your bullshit all summer,” I say, setting Betty on the ground. I lean against the car, not just so I can see him better, but because the lightheadedness is back in spades. “I know you, just like you know me.”
“Yeah.” He nods.
“Good, now get out of my goddamn car and get your ass cleaned up. You’re dripping all over my upholstery.”
Josiah looks down at his lap. He seems surprised by so much blood. “Shit.”
“Come on. I need a stiff drink, and you need to ice that nose and clean yourself up so I can see if you need to go to the hospital or not.”
Josiah opens his door and steps out of the car. I call Xena to my side, bend and scoop Betty up in my arms, but I almost topple when I stand up straight. Shit. I think I have a concussion. Josiah grabs my elbow and helps to keep me upright. I lean my head against his shoulder as we walk up the stairs and through the front door. Inside, August meets us in the foyer, and I’m certain we’re a sight to behold.
“Hi,” I mutter pathetically when I see his face and his concerned expression. I try not to cry, but the tears spill over anyway. “You’re okay with extra guests, right?”
My lips tremble, my legs shake, and I fall into his big chest as he carefully holds my bruised face between his hands. “What the hell happened to you?”
I shake my head. “It doesn't matter.”
“Like hell, it doesn’t. Who did this? Who hit you?” August demands, looking at Josiah for an explanation. “Both of you?”
“I think I need to sit down,” I say breathlessly, but before I can even finish the words, I collapse against him, my body going limp as a wet noodle. His hands tighten on my face, and I cry out. August takes me by the shoulders and leads me over to the couch where he lays me down. “I think I might be concussed.”
“And you drove?”
“No, I’m pretty sure the adrenaline drove. I don’t even really remember the trip.”
“Stay here. I’ll get some ice,” he says, and turns to Josiah. “Watch her, and then you and I are gonna have a little chat.”
“Yes, sir,” Josiah says, glancing down at his bloodied fists.
August turns and heads for the kitchen. “We need to go the Sheriff’s office and report this.”
“No,” Josiah says. August turns to face him with a curious expression and the boy wets his lips, and glances at the floor. “I mean, please don’t call her, sir. She’ll make me go back. Please?”
August looks to me and I shake my head. He lets out an exasperated breath and stalks away.
“Don’t tell him anything,” I warn Josiah, once August is out of earshot. The kid just looks at me. Maybe it’s my addled brain speaking, but I know August. He won’t let this slide. “You can’t tell him. If you tell him, he will go over there, and it won’t end well.”
“He’s gonna know. He already knows—you can see it. I ain’t lying to him. He scares the shit outta me, way more than my daddy ever could,” Josiah says, and I slump down in the couch some more. I like this couch. It’s old and smells like Tanglewood, like August, because this is where he sits after Bett has gone to bed. He doesn’t watch TV or read a paper, work on a puzzle or anything. He just sits and stares at the wall opposite, and I know he isn’t here at Tanglewood but is somewhere fifty thousand miles away in the Afghani desert.
The dense weight of sleep tries to pull me under and I fight against it but I must fail miserably because when I open my eyes again, August is there, holding something cold to my face—a pack of frozen peas, I think. His dark blue eyes bore into mine, and I smile sweetly, though it probably looks more like a grimace because my head hurts when I do it. “Ow.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” August says through gritted teeth.
“Shh,” I say and reach out a finger, pressing it against his lips. I end up tugging his bottom lip down in a clumsy gesture, and his whole face softens. I reach up and attempt to take the peas from him because the cold and pressure are too much, but he shakes his head and holds them in place. I rest my hand on top of his and sigh, my cheek and eye socket throbbing.
Fucking men. They sure know how to hit you where it hurts. My shelter is due to open in two days. I’m going to be wearing a pound of makeup and dark glasses for a month. My face will make me look like I belong in a Dixie Chicks song about a woman who gets beat up by her husband. I don’t even have a husband. I have one giant pain-in-the-ass Marine, a house full of dogs that aren’t mine, two teenage boys who behave like dogs, a piglet, and a four-year-old who’s stolen my heart completely. And now I have a black eye, and a possible brain trauma. It was worth it, though. Josiah is worth it.
I open my eyes again. “Where’s Josiah? He didn’t leave, did he? You have to stop him; he’ll go back.”
“Shh, princess,” August soothes. “He went upstairs to clean up. Bett’s probably up there talking his ear off. Everyone’s okay.”
“I’m sorry I brought home a kid, a pig, and another dog.”
He chuckles, gently stroking my hair back from my face. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Liv, it’s to expect the unexpected.”
“I couldn’t let him beat on that kid right in front of me,” I say with a trembling voice, and the tears flow thick and fat down my face. “Josiah came to my defense, and his daddy just … he beat the shit outta him, August. And I knew it wasn’t the first time. I don’t know how I missed it before. How did I miss it?”
“You did the right thing, darlin’, and you couldn’t have known. None of us knew.”
“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it. He can stay here, right? As long as he needs? I’ll pay his way . . . Of course, I might go to jail for kidnapping.” I laugh, but it hurts my whole damn face. “Then I’d have to submit to an overly large cranky lesbian and become her bitch, ’cause I can’t throw a punch to save my life.”
He leans forward and kisses my hair. I close my eyes. Who’d have thought my angry Marine could be so careful, so sweet, and capable of so much tenderness? “I’ll protect you from the big scary lesbians. No one’s taking you away from me, princess.”
Despite the pain, I smile.
No one’s taking you away from me. I like the sound of that.