This isn’t the first time Wesley has come over after he’s been knocked around. The first time, I tried to tell my mom, but Wesley said it wouldn’t do him any good because the cops wouldn’t do shit. I begged him to let me tell anyway, but he said no, that if I did, I would be breaking his trust. That was the last thing I wanted, so I’ve been keeping his secret. But it’s so fucking hard, especially because I don’t like to see him hurt.
Tentatively, I reach out and push his bangs from his forehead. The previous times he’s laid in my lap, I’ve remained still, hoping he wouldn’t move. But tonight, my hands have a mind of their own and wanted to touch the soft hair that always flops into his eyes.
He starts, and I move my hand back, my face burning with embarrassment, but he catches it quickly, looking up at me with his fathomless brown eyes. “No…it’s cool. You…go ahead. You can touch me.”
I give him a small smile and thread my fingers through his hair. Wesley releases a shaky breath and crosses his arms over his chest.
In a quiet voice, he says, “I hate him so fucking much.”
“I know you do,” I murmur, at a loss for what else to say. I’m a sixteen-year-old kid. I’ve never been in a situation where someone I knew was being abused by an adult. My parents never hit me, and my cousins have never been struck either. I’m in uncharted territory. “Please, Wes. Can I?—”
“No, Jax. No adults. I can handle Perry. I just need to keep out of his way. One day, I’ll get him back.”
I think Wesley could if he wanted to. He’s not huge, but he’s fairly stocky with thick arms. So why isn’t he knocking his mom’s boyfriend the fuck out? The guy isn’t that big, maybe two or three inches taller than Wes and around the same size.
Since I’ve known him, Wesley has been no stranger to fights, getting suspended three times this year alone. I wonder why he doesn’t just kick his ass. But I don’t ask. I don’t want to upset him.
Wesley blows on a long breath. “I can’t wait to leave that house. As soon as I graduate, I’ll take off. Even if it’s just with the clothes on my back. I can’t stay there even a day longer.”
“I’ll help you any way I can. You know that.”
“I know. You always?—”
“Jaxon, Wesley,” my mom says from the top of the stairs, making us both jump. Wesley rolls off my lap and onto the floor with a thump. “Get up here, please.”
I look down at Wesley, wide-eyed. He shrugs, curling his shoulders in on himself as he walks ahead of me upstairs.
When we step into the kitchen, my mom is standing at the counter with a glass of water in hand. “It’s four in the morning. When did you get here, Wesley?”
He shrugs again, ducking his head and turning his face away so she doesn’t see his swollen and bruised eye.
Mom sighs. “If you’re going to sneak out, please call me. I’d rather be woken up in the middle of the night to come pick you up than something happen to you on the walk over.” Wesley’s head snaps up, his eyes round and disbelieving as he looks at her. Then he lowers his head quickly, probably remembering his discolored face.
I’m sure he’s not used to a parent caring. When we started hanging out and he began to trust me, he opened up about his parents. He has no idea where his dad is. His mom told Wesley he kicked them out in the middle of the night. Wesley hasn’t heard from him since he was ten. After they moved from California to Washington, his mom got into drugs. She had men in and out of the home, each treating him like shit for no other reason than they could. He’s come from a fucked-up home, so I’m sure someone being concerned about him is not something he’s used to, even years into our friendship.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say for him. “Sorry to wake you.”
She waves me off. “It’s okay. I don’t have to work tomorrow.” Mom is a hair stylist and makes her own schedule.
After she finishes her water, she says, “Get some sleep, you two. You might be up late, but you’re still going to school.” I groan but don’t complain, even though I’m going to be exhausted for the rest of the day.
“Night, Mom,” I say, grabbing Wesley’s sleeve and pulling him to my room.
“Night, Mrs. Collins.”
“Good night, boys.” We’re a few feet down the hall when Mom says, “Oh, Wesley?” He turns around to look at her, the bruise on his face hidden by the darkness of the hallway. “That’s a beautiful song. You have a beautiful voice. I’m willing to bet it’ll take you far. I have faith that one day the whole world will know your name.”
He mumbles a quick thanks and walks ahead of me to my room. Mom smiles at me and blows a quick kiss before I turn away and follow Wesley, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before a long school day.
I climb into bed beside Wesley, and we both look up at the ceiling, not saying a word. I want to ask if he’s okay, if he wants ice for his face, or if he wants me to just ask my mom if he can come live with us so he can be safe.
But I don’t. I don’t want him to be mad at me by bringing up his home life. He said he came here to forget. I would hate if he stopped coming because I keep pushing.
Pulling in a deep breath, I say in a low voice, “You can have the guitar. If you want it. I’m not playing it.”
“Won’t your dad be pissed?” he asked, though I hear the eagerness in his tone.
I shrug, hoping I sound cool, though I’m sure he would. We’re well-off, but Dad will be pissed I’m giving away a gift I begged him weeks for. “I don’t care if he does. It’s mine. I can do what I want.”
