Page 29 of Boys Who Hunt
“You’ve got more than just one?” I frown.
He nods and counts them out loud on his fingers. “There’s Elliot, my brother, then there’s Levi Torres, my older half brother, and Sunny Reed, my older half sister. My mom has three partners. They’re poly.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Interesting.”
Didn’t even know that was possible, but to each their own.
“What about your parents? What’s your family like?”
“My parents?” I nearly choke on my food. “Oh, uh … I don’t …” I take a deep breath. “They’re not around.”
I don’t like talking about it because it forces me to face the fact that the one person who always had my back is no longer here. And that fucking hurts.
Five yearsago
As I head home,I pass by the cemetary, glancing inside the fenced area before brushing off the wind that hits the bruise on my skin. Tears well up in my eyes, and I pull down my sleeve tostop the cold from entering. But another gust that blows through my hair and into my hearing aid makes me stop and stare.
I blow out a breath before I finally decide to head inside.
There is no stone, no marking. No pebbled path or expensive-looking ornament. Not where I’m going.
All that’s left for me to stare at is the grass where the soot was discarded and a life was forfeited.
And for what? What grand purpose did his death serve?
My fingers dig into my palm so deeply it begins to bleed.
It shouldn’t have to be this way. It was too soon. I’m too young to grieve. Too young to take care of a mother who would rather drown in the idea of romance with dangerous men than live without the love she craves so desperately.
How do we keep going?
My heart weeps, but my tears refuse to budge.
“Why …?” I say through gritted teeth, my knees slowly sinking to the grass. “Why do I have to do this without you?”
I lower my head and touch the grassy ground underneath me, wishing I could rip out this heart so it wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.
“I miss you, Dad…”
Fuck cancer.
Present
“Oh, I’m sorry.”Max puts down his food. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known.” I smile to ease the tension, but my throat feels dry. “Besides, I don’t need them. I can take care of myself.”
“I can tell,” he muses. “I mean, you go to this prestigious university and manage to hold your own.”
“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” I muse, taking another bite.
“But you’ve got your own place, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not much.”
“But you worked hard for it,” he says, taking a sip of his iced tea.
“Right …”