Page 36 of My Fiancé's Brother
“So, Matt told me about a fight you were in during elementary school.”
He glanced over at me and then focused his attention back to the salad he was making. “Sounds like me.”
“You don’t remember? Matt said you took on all these older boys, and you didn’t back down, and you ended up in the hospital with a bruised kidney.”
He momentarily stopped chopping. “Not sure.”
“How can you not remember this?”
“Ted and I shared many visits to the hospital, so it doesn’t stand out.”
“Matt said there were half a dozen boys and they were all bigger than you, but you refused to back down.”
A smile traced on his mouth. “Yup, then that was me.”
I turned to face him and crossed my arms. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Not back down. Matt said he ran to the lunch lady, but even though you were outnumbered, you stayed to fight.”
He glanced at me, his expression one of curiosity. His question was genuine. “Why would I back down?”
“Because you could get hurt!”
“That isn’t a reason to back down from a fight.”
“Why fight at all?”
“I never start fights. I just finish them.”
I stood there thinking for a long moment. “Why did you have so many visits to the hospital?”
He continued to chop his tomato without speaking. I waited. Finally, he rewarded me with an answer. “Ted was a drunk. Either he was getting hurt, or he was hurting me. Hospitals were avoided, but sometimes they were necessary.”
I tried to hide my dismay at his words. Ted had hurt Jackson. This was the reason that Jackson had spent time with Matt’s family. The man he lived with had beaten him. And Matt’s parents had saved him.
“How were you hurt?”
His face concentrated as he remembered. “Broken leg, broken sternum, broken arms, broken collarbone…but only when he could catch me.”
I froze. “And when he did?”
“He just punched, but when he kicked, that’s when my bones got broken.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. “Jackson.”
How did a person’s soul survive such a travesty? Is this where his will to fight back came from? His determination to protect others? My heart ached for the little boy who was alone with an abusive alcoholic man who rained down on him with his fists and kicks, hurting him to the point that his bones broke. The images I conjured in my mind were almost bringing me to tears. How alone he must have felt. The fear and pain he must have endured ripped at my heart.
He moved to put the salad in the fridge. “Did Matt say he was coming home tonight?”
“How did the doctors not know about this?”
He started to walk out of the kitchen. “They knew. They called the cops.”
I followed. “Matt’s dad.”
“Yup.” His voice remained even. “I’m going to go work on the car.”
