Wild Man (Wild Men Book 1), page 3
But I still need to help my mother.
Together, with her pushing and me pulling, we roll him off of her. She stumbles to her feet, and I pull her into a hug. Her blond hair looks like it’s been yanked, and her throat area is red and swelling. She’s got a bruise forming under her eye, but she’s alive.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“No time,” she says as she hugs me quickly but then steps back. “We need to pack.”
“What? Where?”
Rather than answer me, she picks up the bat. “And we’re taking this with us. I don’t want to leave anything for him to try to use against us as some sort of sick and twisted evidence.”
“Mom.” I hustle after her as she heads for the bedrooms. “What are we doing?”
She turns back to face me. And I’ll always remember her eyes—they hold a spark I haven’t seen in years.
“We’re leaving, honey. It’s time.”
We fill a couple suitcases, grab our phones and laptops, and head for Mom’s car. My father’s still out cold when we leave, but he’ll wake up soon enough, and Mom wants to be long gone by then.
I’ve already texted Nick and Ben not to come home and to wait for us in the school parking lot.
Once we get into the car and are safely driving away from the house, Mom speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me he was hitting you?”
I snap my head toward her. Her eyes are on the road, but she brings a hand to her cheek. “I saw the bruise last night, Sky.”
“How?”
“When I got home, Nick told me you’d fallen asleep out in the cold. I went into your room to check on you, but you were already asleep. Your bedside lamp was on, and when I leaned over to turn it off, I got a close look at your face.”
I turn to look out the windshield. “Is that why he was choking you? Because you confronted him about me?”
“Sky, stop changing the subject.” Her voice is hoarse like she’s in pain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why do you think, Mom? Because I knew he’d do this!” I point at her throat.
“Your father didn’t do this because of you. He attacked me because he’s an angry man who uses his temper as a weapon.”
Her voice is so scratchy it pains me to hear her talk. “Don’t strain your throat, Mom. We’ll talk later.”
“I’ve been figuring a way out for months,” she admits. “Opening up a separate account; stashing as much of my paychecks as I can into it. But if I’d known about you, I would have tried to move even faster.”
When we arrive at the high school, Nick and Ben are waiting.
“This feels like an illegal drug deal,” Ben mutters as we toss their things into the car. “You going to tell us what the fuck happened?”
“Mom needs to see a doctor,” I tell him. “But she won’t.”
“We can take her to a clinic in one of the neighboring towns,” he says. “But where the hell are we going from there?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, and my breath gets shorter. “Mom said she has a place picked out.”
He says something in response, but I’m starting to lose focus on his words.
“Are you okay?” he asks me.
I manage a nod.
“You’re gasping for breath,” he says with concern. “What’s wrong?”
I push him toward the car. “Let’s just get going.”
Nick insists on driving. He has Mom settle into the shotgun seat, and Ben and I take the back.
“Sky’s having a panic attack,” Ben announces to the car.
Nick and Mom immediately turn around.
“It’s just something that…” I suck in air. “Happens sometimes.”
“We’ll get you some help,” Mom promises.
But as we merge onto the highway, my anxiety lessens. My pulse is normal, and I can take a normal breath again.
A few towns over, we stop at a twenty-four hour health clinic. Nick takes Mom inside, and Ben and I sit in the car.
“Scared?” he asks me, his blond hair shining in the moonlight.
My brothers are both blond like Mom; I’m the only one who looks like my father.
I shrug. “Less so than I was in the house.”
“Me too.”
Mom and Nick return after a long while, and Mom’s got a bandage on her throat. She says she’ll be okay.
She makes a call to Ivan, the detective in town.
He promises to keep her updated on our father.
We keep driving, and eventually, I fall asleep.
When I wake up, we’re pulling into a gated complex. We pass rows upon rows of attached townhouse condos.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Ivan helped me set this rental up,” Mom says. “It’s furnished already and under his name. We’ll live here for now.”
For now.
“Will we go to school here?”
“Yes, starting tomorrow. I have all three of you registered.”
“What about football?” Ben says. “I’m assuming we won’t be playing for our old team anymore.”
“No, but once we get settled in one place permanently, you can try out for the team there,” Mom says.
“Eh, football versus making sure my mom and sister are safe?” Nick says. “That’s an easy choice.”
We carry our few bags into the townhouse. It’s a three bedroom with a dated but functional kitchen and an attached living room. The whole place is small, but it’s quiet and calm.
“This place is alarmed,” Mom says. “And the community is gated. You can’t get inside without a keycard or passcode.”
“Are you going to report him?” I ask her.
“It won’t be enough to put him away,” she says. “It will be his word against ours. The law will catch up to him, though. Ivan’s working on several ways to put him behind bars.”
My father has a history of petty theft, all when he was under the influence.
“Ivan’s building a case against him?” Nick says.
“Yes, but he says he needs more time to make sure it sticks,” Mom says.
She puts her arm around me. “Let’s get you into your bedrooms.”
My bed is twin-sized with pink sheets and a white comforter. I unpack my few belongings. My laptop goes on top of the built-in desk and my phone next to it.
Other than that, I don’t have anything to my name. Not anymore.
I have a momentary twinge of sadness when I realize I won’t be able to interview for the editor position for next year. Or say goodbye to Mr. Colby. Or think about the Winter Formal. Even if I wasn’t planning to attend, just knowing it was out there was a touchstone.
Tonight, in the span of ten minutes, nearly all of my touchstones disappeared.
Then, I hear Nick and Ben in the bedroom next door. They’re joking over who gets the window bed.
I smile. I still have three touchstones, and they’re all in this house with me. I have so much to be grateful for, and I’m going to focus on that tonight. Plus, tomorrow’s my first day at a new school, and I need to be ready.
I climb into bed and drift into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Seven
Eighteen Months Later
Skylar
Just before my fifteenth birthday, we fled Indiana for Connecticut.
Ivan was keeping tabs on my father, and he would occasionally show up at the town poker games to try to get information. One of those times, he learned that my father was catching wind of where we were. And so, Ivan made sure to keep the poker game going later than usual so Mom, Nick, Ben, and I could drive out of state in a different car with Connecticut plates that Ivan had delivered to our door that night. We left our old car behind, and hopefully any trace of us as well.
I like Connecticut. The kids at the school are friendly, and I just wrote my first piece for the school paper. Nick and Ben are settling in also, and we’re slowly finding our footing as a family of four. When I turned sixteen, we had a small party with just our family and our neighbor over for a quiet evening of cake and Thai food. It was the best birthday I’ve had in years because I wasn’t living in fear in my own home.
A year and a half has gone by quickly. I’m always on alert, but without my father living with us, life is amazingly calm. And I’ve actually felt safe.
The school bell rings, signaling the end of English Lit. I pack up my bag and walk out of the room. As I leave the school grounds, I get the distressing sensation that I’m being watched. Ivan had warned us all to stay vigilant; the case he’s building against my father is still ongoing, and as a result, he’s still free.
I whip around in a circle, looking for any sign of movement. Nothing. No one overtly staring at me or following me. I send Nick a quick text that I’m getting on the first bus and that I’ll see him at home.
The ride home is uneventful. I chat with a girl in my class who hangs over the back of her seat to tell me about a crush she has on the quarterback of the football team.
“Don’t you just love football players?” she asks me, her eyes shining with innocence.
I visibly flinch. “Not so much. I’m not a big fan.”
“How come?” she asks in genuine surprise. “I thought most people love athletes.”
“I guess I’m not most people.” I pass it off with a smile.
When the bus stops outside the gates of our complex, I wave goodbye to her and climb down the steps to the sidewalk.
I use my keycard to enter the community and then walk through the tree-lined path to enter our townhome the back way. When I reach the front door, I barely suppress my scream.
The lock is broken on the door.
Which means that someone broke into our home.
I know better than to walk in alone. I back away from the door, calling Ben as I reach the driveway.
He tells me to call the police and says he’s on his way.
Twenty minutes later, my brothers and I stand next to two police officers in our living room, which has been ransacked.
Mom’s on the phone with Ivan, who has the next two days off and says he’ll be here in the morning to see us.
“He says not to worry,” she says. “I know he’ll help.”
But that safe feeling I’ve had for the last year plus…it’s over.
Bang!
I jump at the knock on the door.
But it’s just our neighbor, who wants to know why the police are parked outside.
When she hears we had a break-in, she invites us to stay with her for the night.
Mom and I bring a bag with our essentials in it, and Nick and Ben wait for Ivan to arrive. They swear to me that they’ll kill our father if he comes back.
I think we all know he’s going to be back. He wouldn’t have come this far to give up now.
Mom and I take the guest bedroom, and eventually I doze off.
When I wake up, it’s still dark, but Mom’s gone.
I creep out to the main room. Our neighbor must be in her bedroom sleeping, and I slip out the door and over to our townhome.
Mom greets me at the door and says we have to go.
We slip out into the night like we were never here. Thanks to my brothers, the few belongings we had are already packed in the car.
As she drives, my mom tells us how she forgot to dispose of a joint credit card she had with my father, and she used it last week in a pinch. My father was able to trace us.
So, we’ll have to leave the state for now. First, we’re going to drive west to throw my father off our trail. My uncle just got a job at a campground resort in Boulder, Colorado, and Ivan thinks that’s the perfect place for us to go under cover for a while.
“Because he just got hired, my brother’s unlisted on the company website,” Mom explains. “Ivan said he can make sure it stays that way. We’ll be safe there for the summer. School’s getting out in a week, so it’s the perfect time to do this. And when Ivan gives us the signal, we’ll move to our new home. He’ll have it ready.”
She says we’ll be moving to—
“Western Connecticut?” Ben says from next to me. “Why there?”
“Exactly,” Mom says. “Your father will think we’re headed back to Indiana. Ivan’s already put out clues to that effect. And Ivan says he’s going to make it impossible for us to be traced this time. He said to trust him.”
We do. We trust him. He’s always been on our side.
“There’s one more thing.” She pauses.
“Mom?” I ask in confusion.
“We’re not going by MacDonald anymore,” she says in too calm of a voice.
Ben shifts next to me. “What are we going by?”
“Rosewood.” Mom puts on her signal and pulls into a non-descript strip mall. “Remember we used that name now and again at the motels we stayed at on our drive to New England? Well, we’re going to use it formally now.”
“But that’s just a random name we came up with for kicks one night when we needed to stay anonymous,” Ben says. “That’s not our name.”
“We need to be anonymous again,” Mom says in a flat tone.
“Forever?” I say.
“It will be okay,” is her only answer.
She drives around back and parks next to a black van. On the other side of the black van is a non-descript silver SUV.
Ivan steps out of the driver’s side of the van.
He gives us a nod in greeting and then proceeds to hand us our chance at a new life.
New IDs with our new last name, burner phones for the summer until “he’s sure my father’s sufficiently off our trail,” and four individual credit cards with our new names. The works. He has it all set up.
“And this here is your new car.”
“Oh, Ivan,” Mom says, wringing her hands nervously. “How can we possibly repay you for all of this? I can’t afford this car…”
“It’s yours, and I won’t hear another word about it.” His tone is gentle but offers no room for argument. “It will keep you safe.”
And he has a pep talk for us as well.
“Don’t get too close to anyone on this getaway,” he says to me and my brothers. His expression is deadly serious. “Hang out, and have a good time. But keep your distance. This isn’t a good time to make any lifelong friendships, you hear me? That will come later when you’re safe and settled. But not on this trip. Colorado is for shaking the devil and starting fresh. Deal?”
“Deal,” we all say.
Ivan points at the cards that provide us with our new identities. “This will keep you safe. Memorize the details. Your fake address, new last name—all of it. Make sure it all rolls off your tongue. That address isn’t real anyway—your actual new home has yet to be determined. But get used to saying western Connecticut.”
“You must have been up all night getting this done,” Mom says to him, shaking her head in wonder.
“It’s worth it.” Ivan looks at all four of us, his dark eyes filled with anger and his gray beard nearly covering his mouth. “You’re worth it.”
I step forward and hug him. “Thank you,” I whisper into his chest. “I’ll never forget this.”
Ivan pats my head gently like a father would. Like a father should.
I step back from him and notice Nick glancing around the parking lot.
“He’s still lurking around here, isn’t he?” Nick says in a pissed-off tone.
Ivan nods. “He’s waiting. He’s planning to return to your townhome shortly when he’s ‘more prepared.’” Ivan’s eyes turn to chips of ice. “I won’t let him. Not until you’re long gone.”
“How can you stop him?” I ask him.
He reaches into his pocket and holds out Dad’s weakness.
A poker chip.
“I’m checking in on him now.” Ivan glances at his watch. “I’ve set him up at an all-day game with a group of guys who know enough to keep him there. And someday soon…” he looks to me. “Your father will be behind bars. That’s a promise.”
But until then, we run.
Chapter Eight
Colton
I stand nearly waist-deep in the river on Brayden’s family property, fishing pole in hand.
Wild Ranch has always been a second home to me, but this weekend, I’ve felt homesick.
My cousins, Jenson, and I are here for our annual summer get-together.
But my dad’s home on the couch. The brutal treatments have ended, but the scans are Monday to see where he stands.
I’ve been with him non-stop since we found out the news that he was sick again. Including my seventeenth birthday when I celebrated at home with my parents instead of going out. This weekend, Mom insisted I take a few days off to hang out with my five best friends.
“Hey.” I turn as Ayden joins me in the water.
“Hey, Ayd.”
His blue-green eyes assess me before he focuses on his line.
He’s growing up, and even though I still think of him as a kid, he’s nearly as tall as I am already. And, possibly due to the loss he suffered, he looks older than his age.
Ayden may be younger than I am by a couple years, but he’s the first one of us to have experienced real loss.
His father’s tragic accident changed him, and of anyone, he would understand what I’m going through.
“How did you just…enjoy life again?” I ask without looking at him.
His sharp inhale of breath is my only indication that he’s heard me. “Bella,” he says simply.
Bella’s been his best friend his whole life. Her blond hair and porcelain skin are opposite to Ayden’s dark, brooding looks, but he and she fit together.
“Did you two ever…”
“No.” He hesitates when he says it, though, and I want to push him on the topic.
But I don’t. I don’t know the first thing about love, and I envy what Ayden has with Bella. Even if I can’t understand it, I can tell it’s meaningful in a way I’ve never come close to feeling with any girl.
“You’re lucky to have her,” I say instead.
“Don’t I know it.”
We go silent, lost in our own thoughts.
