Grandpa doesn’t tolerate what he calls nonsense. Video games and television qualify, so he tells me to store my console in the closet.

He wakes early and takes me with him to feed his horses. It’s not a hard job for me, but he’s old. Veronica cooks breakfast before we both go to school. Even though Grandpa complains that she’s making him fat, he eats everything on his plate. After we eat, he lets me drive his old farm truck to school and he goes to the convenience store he owns called Gimme Gas, the world’s stupidest name for a business.

On the fourteenth day of living with Grandpa, Jerry and Jodie show up at the door.

Thirteen days without so much as a phone call.

Both Dad and Jodie stand on the front porch. “I need my girl back,” Jodie says as if I don’t exist. “She needs to get her things. Gunner can stay with you.”

I never expected her to treat me like a son, but I’m still surprised that they only came for Veronica. It shouldn’t be a shock.

Veronica doesn’t argue. She walks into the bedroom and picks up the bag she brought. She’s ready so fast I wonder if she even unpacked it.

A knife twists in my gut to see her go. I’ve gotten used to her presence in the house. She’s been talking to me, even if I rarely answer.

I look at Grandpa’s face, wondering if he feels the same way I do.

“Why can’t she stay with us?” The words spill from me. I don’t know what makes me say it.

“Because I need her. She’s my daughter. She has no business here.” Jodie walks across the threshold of the house and grabs Veronica’s bag.

Veronica holds onto it. But her mom is stronger and certainly more determined, if the rigid unsmiling set of her mouth is anything to go by.

When the car leaves the driveway, I go to my room without a word. Grandpa knocks on the closed door. He opens it without waiting for me to ask him inside. “You’re lucky they didn’t take you.”

There’s a knot in my throat that pisses me off. “Yeah. Sure.”

“She’ll be OK.”

I lie on my bed, lift my body on one elbow, and shake my head. “Why do you care?” The knot is too big.

He pulls the door closed with a hard thump.

Five days pass without any words between us. On the sixth day, the phone rings, an alien noise in the house. It’s seven o’clock. Grandpa turns down the volume on the television and answers it with his gruff voice. Maybe it’s a telemarketer. They’ll be sorry they picked Grandpa’s number.

I strain to hear his side of the conversation, because I’m so curious. He never talks on the phone.

“Yes,” he says. Pause. “Stay put. Veronica? Lock yourself in the bathroom.” He shuffles around in the kitchen. “Gunner, I’ll be back,” he yells.

“Wait.” I jump from my bed and scramble to stop him before he leaves. “Where are you going?”

He stands with his hands on his hips. “You always eavesdrop?”

“Yeah. Here I do.”

“I’m going to your dad’s.”

“What’s happened?” I run back to my bedroom and grab my tennis shoes.

Grandpa gives me a steely look. A look meant to freeze the ballsiest man. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Why not?” I tug one shoe on and then the other.

“Because I said so.”

“That’s a reason to give a kid.” I walk outside to the truck and hop in.

He slides into the driver’s side. “You’re as stubborn as your dad.”

“I’m nothing like my dad.”

“Small miracles happen.”

The drive across town tortures me with a constant replay of the one-sided conversation I heard.

When we pull into the apartment parking lot, he turns to me. “Stay in the truck. I’ll be back in a minute.” He studies my face. “Don’t test me. There’s going to be enough trouble in there without you getting into the middle of it.”

He slams the door and runs up the outside stairs to the second floor apartment. He’s pretty spry for an old man, his shock of white hair bouncing with each step.

The minutes tick like hours as I wait for him to return. I waver on whether to push my luck on his order.

I push open the truck door and close it quietly, so I stand beside it. Better. I can breathe now and maybe hear something from the apartment. The closed blinds hide whatever happens inside.

What’s taking so long and why did Veronica call?

I’m moving toward the building without conscious thought of how mad Grandpa will be or what it will be like to look my dad in the face after he’s discarded me so easily.

A loud crash sounds from the apartment. I run up the metal steps and fling open the door. A broken lamp lays in the center the floor. Dad pushes Grandpa against the wall with one hand and then presses a hand against his throat.

Fuck.

I don’t even notice where Veronica and her mom might be. I can’t hear the yelling or interpret the words. All I see is the war happening in front of me.

“Let go!” I bark out the plea, scared and pissed at my dad. Grandpa’s an old man. What the hell.

I bolt forward and grasp Dad by the shoulders. He whips around with bloodshot, wild eyes.

“Gun, this is between me and him. Go to your room,” Dad says.

“I don’t live here. Remember?” I stand glaring at him, our bodies almost touching we’re so close.

His eyes widen. “You always think you’re so smart. Of course you don’t live here. I can’t stand the sight of you.”

A hurt slices soul-deep, and I’m surprised. I didn’t think I cared anymore. “What is wrong with you? Have you gone crazy?”

He’s unshaven and smelly, his hair a whirl of bedhead like I’ve never seen. Then it hits me. This isn’t drunk-Dad. He’s hopped up on something else.

Something really bad.

Grandpa moves away from the wall. “Veronica? Come on. We’re leaving.”

The bedroom door opens and she comes out. She looks like hell with her tear-stained face. She’s carrying the same bag she’d packed the other time she came to Grandpa’s.

A movement from the kitchen catches my attention. Jodie stands with a fucking butcher knife in her hand. “You’re not taking my baby.”

“Go,” Grandpa says to me. “Take Veronica to the truck.” He puts a soothing hand up to Jodie. “We’re leaving with the girl. You don’t want her to be unhappy. She’s scared here. Be a good mother.”

Jodie leans against the threshold and slides to the floor wailing. “No, no, no, no…” she blubbers.

I open the apartment door and Veronica stares at her mom, but only for a second. Then she runs for the truck. Her feet pound down the stairs so quickly, I’m afraid she’s going to fall.

Dad makes a grab for Grandpa again, but I’m faster and more alert than he is. I twirl him around and punch him in the nose.

He screams like a wild thing and tackles me. His knee rams into my balls and piercing pain shoots through my entire body. Hot blood from his nose drips onto my face.

And then he’s lifted from me. Grandpa pulls him up and drags him across the floor by one arm.

“You ever touch Gunner again, and I’ll break both your arms.” Grandpa reaches down to give me a hand.

I get to my feet and Grandpa looks me over for a second. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I answer through gritted teeth. We walk out together. I shove my hands into my pockets so they’ll stop shaking.

Inside the cab of the old truck, Veronica sits in the middle of the bench seat with her face in her hands while she sobs. Each sound thumps against my heart. I’ve never seen anyone look more broken and alone.

Grandpa peels out of the parking lot as if making a statement. The squealing tires grate on my already frazzled nerves. I glance around for cops.

“Next time I tell you to stay somewhere, you stay,” he says.

I sit quietly for several seconds, not knowing what to do about Veronica. Garbled, gulping sounds from deep in her throat make me want to open the windows for fresh air.

I throw an arm over her shoulders and hug her to me. Stop crying. Please stop because I can’t listen.

She’s stiff and unresponsive at first. She didn’t expect me to do that and I sure didn’t plan on it. She says something low and muffled by her hands that are still over her face.

“What?” I ask.

“I tried to stay. I tried.”

She begins rocking and puts fingers over her lips in a rubbing motion. I grab her hand with my free one and hold it lightly. “Yeah. I know.”

I realize I’m rocking with her. Leaning to her side, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Blood smears across my cheeks. Dad’s blood.

Grandpa gives us both a side-glance in the dark truck interior. “You’re supposed to be with us,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Gunner and I need you.”

She lifts her head from her hands and turns to him. “Thank you.”

He nods and returns his attention to the road.

“Do you think Mama will be OK?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Grandpa doesn’t answer and I don’t either.

How can she even be worried about Jodie? Dad and Jodie proved to me way before tonight that they’re losers.

She nods as if we’ve answered her question with our silence. I take my arm back from her shoulder and release the hold on her hand. I don’t move completely away and she leans against me.

Veronica falls asleep within minutes. I wonder how long she’s been awake.

Her head falls against my shoulder, long blonde hair trailing onto my arm. I’ll let it stay until it’s time to wake her at the house.

“This will be your last shitty day. I promise.” I don’t care that Grandpa hears me say it or that I’m not sure what I’m promising.

Grandpa shakes his head. Maybe he’s thinking about what happened at the apartment or about what I’ve said to the girl sleeping by my side.

For the first time since Mom died, I don’t feel absolutely alone.