Evan

 

I watched her walk across the courtyard, her arm hanging protectively by her side. Was she hurt? Had someone hurt her? My blood boiled as I clenched my fists at my sides. I’d noticed it this morning as I watched her in the hallway, but I’d hoped it was my imagination.

It didn’t look like I imagined it.

Becca balanced her tray on the edge of the table and pushed it into place with one hand before she sat down. Alone. I fucking hated this—hated that she felt the only way to protect herself was to shut everyone out. Before I could stop myself, I’d started in her direction. This shit had to end.

“Whoa, there, lover boy.” Peters stepped in front of me, and I glowered down at her. “You need to give her space.”

“No, I need to go over there and make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s a big girl; she can take care of herself.”

Was she for real? Peters knew firsthand just how crazy Kendall could get. Even if Kendall didn’t go near Becca herself, she had the ways and means; we’d found that out at Bannam’s party when someone roofied her. A shudder worked its way through my spine.

“Calm down; I’m not saying you have to stop looking out for her. I’m just saying she needs time. Becca isn’t Ami, Porter. Ami needed us, she needed people to step up for her, but that one”—she glanced over at Becca—“that one can hold her own.”

Guilt swamped me. Ami needed us. Yeah, and I hadn’t stepped in soon enough. Kendall destroyed an innocent girl because I didn’t want to get in the middle of my family’s bullshit. But this time was different. I didn’t want Becca to have to hold her own. I wanted to be the one to stand up for her, to protect her.

I would protect her.

Even if she didn’t want me to.

My eyes flickered back to Becca. She was eating a packet of chips, wincing in pain. “She’s hurt.” I stepped around Peters, but her arm shot out and stopped me. “She’s fine. If you push her too hard, you will lose her for good. Trust me, Porter. I know people, and that girl will run; she’ll run so far you’ll never catch her.”

I glared down at her, hating that she was right. Becca would run. Maybe not literally, not like Ami, but she would build up her walls so high there would be no hope of me ever breaking through. My shoulders sagged as I stepped back. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I am. Look, she’ll come around eventually. She has to.” A flash of pain crossed Peters' face, and guilt constricted my chest. She didn’t let people in often, but she had genuinely taken to Becca, and because of me, Becca had shut her out completely.

I nodded, my throat too dry to reply. Peters left to go and sit with Lilly and the others while I stole one last glance at Becca before heading inside.

~

“Porter, thought you’d upped and died on us,” Dave grumbled, jeans hanging down around his ass, his beer belly protruding out of the oil-stained wife beater he wore.

“Family stuff,” I grunted.

“Ain’t it always, kid.” He leaned farther into the engine. “Well, don’t just stand there; go ask Patricia what needs fixin’ up.”

“Got it.” I had three hours, four if I was lucky. Dave let me work whenever I could to earn some extra cash. Thanks to Dad, I knew my way around an engine, and despite his demeanor, Dave was always willing to teach me. But lately, between Mom and Eli, I didn’t get out here often.

I knocked on the office door, and Patricia, Dave’s girlfriend and business manager, ran through the list of outstanding jobs. She gave me my pick of the bunch, and opting for the easier of the lot, I pulled on a pair of coveralls and located the correct vehicle, gathering the tools I needed from the toolbox pushed against the wall. Dave and his lackey were still hovering over the Ford. You had to admire their dedication to the job, though. Six o’clock on a Friday night and they were still going strong. It was one of the things I liked about Dave’s Autos; they went above and beyond. When I first started helping out, I wondered if they lived out here, but Dave had given me a ride home once and pointed out his house.

Dropping down onto the creeper, I rolled underneath the car. There wasn’t time to think when you had one and a half tons of steel above you. It was exactly what I needed to push out thoughts of Becca and Kendall and Mom and Eli. In the small space, there was just me, the axel, and the smell of grease. I worked meticulously for the next couple of hours, only coming up for air when I needed to switch tools. But as soon as I was finished, the temporary dam in my mind burst and everything flooded back.

“You all done, son?” Dave came over to where I was washing up, and I wiped my head with the back of my hand, nodding.

“It’s good to go. Thanks for letting me come by.”

“Anytime, kid, anytime. Listen, you know there’s always something more permanent here for you when you graduate. I don’t know what your plans are, but you come talk to me if you need a job, okay?”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” I hadn’t given much thought to my future, not with Mom barely in control of her life and Eli still being so young. I couldn’t go off to college, that was for sure, and while there were worse ways to spend your days than fixing up cars, I didn’t know if that was what I wanted forever. At least it would bring in a wage, maybe let me break free from Darryl’s grasp once and for all, but who was I kidding? The only way I’d be free of him was if he was six feet under or locked up behind bars for the rest of his life.

~

Thirty minutes after leaving Dave’s, I was home. I nudged the door open with my shoulder and went inside. It was past ten, and the house should have been quiet, but Mom was waiting for me. “You’re late,” she said.

“I said I might be late. Dave needed me to stay to get a job finished.” He hadn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. I just didn’t want to be home with her.

“You don’t need to work, I’ve told you that. Your aunt and uncle are more than happy to—”

“It’s only now and again.” I dropped the paper bag on the counter and helped myself to a soda from the refrigerator. Then I did a double take, studying Mom’s appearance. “Why are you dressed like that?” It wasn’t as bad as some of her outfits, but the skirt was far too tight and the blouse too see-through.

“I’m going out.”

“Like hell, you are,” I ground out. “It’s almost ten thirty.”

“Evan, I appreciate your concern, but I am a grown woman. If I want to go out—”

“And what should I tell Eli if he wakes and wants his mom.”

Something flashed over her heavily made up face. “He has you. You’ll be fine. I won’t be late.” She hung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Lock the door behind me.”

Like she needed to tell me that. I knew the drill; we’d been through this enough over the past three years. Before she reached the door, I said, “This has to stop, Mom. The dates, the parties. Dad is gone. It’s been four years. Eli needs you.”

Even after everything, part of me hoped that she would turn around, take off that shit she was wearing, and watch some TV with me like a normal mom. But in true Ellen Porter style, she said, “Don’t wait up.”

Minutes passed, and I remained. Clutching the edge of the counter, I trained my eyes on the door as my pulse throbbed against my skull. Since Dad left, I’d gone through every emotion possible. Hurt. Anger. Hatred. Dejection. Confusion. And when Mom first turned to the bottle, I’d blamed him. But deep down, I knew he hadn’t unscrewed the lid and handed it to her. He wasn’t the one making her drink until she couldn’t stand straight or passed out on the couch. A storm swept through me, roiling my stomach and building in me until tears pricked my eyes. But I wouldn’t cry because crying wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t help take care of Eli or get Mom sober. I dragged deep breaths into my lungs, forcing out the thoughts until the storm settled.

No longer hungry, I threw the burger and fries into the trashcan, checked in on Eli, and went to my room. At least in sleep, I could pretend that everything wasn’t falling apart around me.

~

Light streamed into the room as I peeked an eye open, rubbing a hand over my face. Something felt wrong. I threw back the covers and raced to Eli’s room. A head full of dark hair poked out of the top of his comforter, so I closed his door. The house was quiet as I entered the living area, scanning for any signs of life. I doubled back and turned down the hallway leading to Mom’s room. The door was open, light pouring out.

“Mom?”

Nothing.

I braced myself to find her passed out on the bed … or worse, but when I peered around her door, I was met with a freshly made bed. It could only mean one thing. I jogged back to my room and found my cell phone and dialed her number. She answered on the fifth ring. “Evan? Baby? What’s wrong?” her voice was raspy.

“Where are you?”

“I’m …” Silence filled the line. “Shit, baby, I must have fallen asleep.”

My heart sank. “Can you get home?”

Something rustled over the line, and then a quiet voice said, “I … hmm, I’m going to need you to come and get me.”

I dragged a hand over my face. If it wasn’t for the sleeping boy down the hall, I would have told her to find her own way home, but I couldn’t do that to Eli.

“You’ll have to wait while I figure something out with Eli. He’s sleeping.”

Mom made a sound that sounded a lot like a whimper, and for a second, I was relieved she felt disgusted with herself, but then I remembered how often this shit was happening and my empathy ebbed away.

“I’m at the Sunny Days Motel on Brookfield.”

A shudder worked its way through me as I imagined my mother—the woman who raised me—at a seedy place like that, known more for its after-dark activities than its sunny days.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

She mumbled something, but I was already hanging up. There was no way I could take Eli with me. He didn’t need to see his mom like that. Ever. And with Mellie out of town, my options were limited.

Scrolling through my contacts, I picked the lesser of two evils.