"Take care of them," I pressed, dropping my gaze to the table. "They're not your responsibility—I get that—but I don't know what he'll do—"
"Max, dude, I got your back," he interrupted, dipping his head to find my eyes once again. "I'll watch out for them. And if I feel like there's anything going on, I'll kick his ass."
I laughed. "Yeah, sure. Just … I don't know. Send me a letter or—"
"You think I'm kidding? If I think he's hurting your little sisters, I swear I will kick his ass."
I allowed a moment to pass to stare into his eyes and gauge his sincerity. Ricky stared back, his resolve unmoving. My happy-go-lucky friend—the one quick to drop a joke, the one who thought fun was more of a priority than anything else—now looked like he could easily kill a man if the opportunity came up.
"Thanks, Ricky," I said quietly, unable to bring my voice above a whisper.
"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You got it."
I glanced out the window adjacent to our table. I looked out at the bustling main street area of our little Massachusetts town I never had the chance to enjoy in all of my eighteen years. I should've been allowed to roam these streets with my friends, like every other teenager. I should've been able to get a job here with Ricky, flipping cheap, delicious burgers for a few bucks an hour. I should've been given the chance to call Laura my girlfriend for even just a few months.
Oh God, Laura …
My heart sank as I dropped my elbow to the table, raking my hand through my hair.
"Your dad's a real piece of shit," Ricky muttered, apparently reading my mind.
"Yeah, he is."
He huffed an unamused laugh. "And here, I always thought people with money had it made."
I tried to mimic his chuckle but fell short. "It's not all it’s cracked up to be."
"But, hey, once you're done with the military, you're afreeman, right? You don't have to do what your dad says. You can get a place of your own. You can … I dunno … do whatever the hell you want, right?”
There was an air of hopefulness in his tone that I immediately resented. What he was saying sounded like a dream, the sweetest one, but I knew better than anyone, that was exactly what it was. A dream. And I knew that, as long as my father was alive, it was unlikely I'd ever find a lifefreeof his wrath.
And still, I smiled and nodded.
"Right," I replied.
Because dreams couldn’t ever come true if you didn't allow them to take life, even if it was all in your mind.
***
"Let's go, Maxwell."
There was a cruel irony in having my father see me off, but there was no one else.
He hurried down the porch steps and into his car. I would've thought there'd be an extra spring in his step today, knowing he was about to be rid of me for at least the next couple of months, but he was just as angry as usual for having to do anything to help me leave.
Lucy and Grace stood at the bottom of the stairs, their hands wringing in the hems of their identical shirts. They were trying their best not to cry, biting their wriggling lips and keeping their eyes forward and not on me.
"It's ten weeks," I reminded them. "Ten weeks, and then I'll be back."
Grace's bottom lip trembled fiercely, and she swallowed as Lucy's mouth opened with a shuddering sob.
"It'll be okay," I promised.
Grace blinked rapidly. "N-no, it won't," she croaked. "You'releaving."
"But not forever," I reminded her.
The back of my eyes pricked with tears, and the bridge of my nose stung. I wanted to lose it, to completely break down in the middle of the living room, but wanting to do something was different than actually doing it. And there was no way in hell I was going to cry. Not in front of them.Not when I had to face our father outside.
