Derek’s lip trembled but he answered bravely. “I count to one hundred, then come out to help. The Band-Aids and cream are in your nightstand.”
“That’s right.” He forced a smile while his stomach twisted in a knot. “Remember, it’s not a big deal and I won’t let him hurt you. What song are you going to sing in your head?”
A crash on the stairwell. “I’m coming!”
“’I like Dynamite by Taio Cruz,” Derek said.
“I like that too. Start hearing it now.”
“’kay.”
Kane closed the closet door. Stark fear threatened, but he’d learned to be friends with it because at least if it was him, Derek was safe.
His father stumbled through the door. Eyes red. Empty bottle in one hand. Belt in the other. Swaying back and forth, his gaze blurred with rage and need for the liquid in the empty bottle. And they’d all pay for that loss.
“Where is it?”
“You drank it, Dad. Remember?”
He threw the bottle. Kane ducked just in time. “Smart ass shit. I’ll teach you to back talk.”
Kane glanced at the clock. The beatings never lasted long. His father didn’t have the endurance—he just liked to empty his poison on his son quickly and then go to bed.
The belt lifted and it began.
He started the countdown in his head while he sang Dynamite.
The horrific images faded slowly; too slowly. It took him a while to move. Each memory of the past flickered before him, taunting like a deranged jester. His hands shook with the effort to remind himself he was safe. And so was Derek.
Kane turned, catching his reflection in the far wall mirror. The image he presented was polished and confident. A man who owned the room. A man able to charm anyone to get what he wanted.
Underneath, he still felt the stain of poverty and shame. The taint of tattered, borrowed clothes that hung big on his too-small frame. The scent of grease and garbage as they scrounged for food after his father had drunk away all the money for groceries. The creak of the dirty mattress he shared with his brother on sleepless nights where he waited to see if his father would bust through the door and use his fists to take away his demons.
He'd done his best to protect Derek. For Kane, the answer was money. Money was his savior. If he made enough, he’d be safe. Power and money were the thing that kept the monsters away. Monsters like poverty and sickness. Humiliation and helplessness. Hunger and fear.
But maybe that wasn’t what his brother ever needed. He had his own path to figure out. Derek had a chance to find the peace that eluded him.
Maybe it was time Kane found the same.
Sierra seemed to be the key. His new job may provide a new opportunity without the stink of his past.
He’d dig in and fight like he was taught.
And maybe this time, he’d win.
Chapter Eight
“Shoes are the quickest way for women to achieve instant metamorphosis.” – Manolo Blahnik
“Brick and I are getting married.”
Sierra stared at her sister for one frozen moment.
Then she lost her shit.
“Oh, my God! I’m so happy for you!” she shrieked, allowing herself to express every single joyous, weepy, sappy emotion the announcement gave her. They yelled and jumped up and down together like they were teenagers. Sierra hugged her hard, tears blurring her eyes at the familiar comfort in her sister’s arms.
Aspen laughed and swiped at her own eyes. “He surprised me at the place on the beach where the sea turtles hatched. Look!”
