Page 94 of Sterling Touch
Insufferable ass.
When Stone did get home, late Sunday morning, we hosted our weekly family gathering and didn’t have time to speak about the incident until later that evening.
Entering his office on the first floor of our home, I feel like the angsty teen I once was, needing to ask my older brother for some necessity, or money, or help. In this case, I don’t need his help as much as his compassion.
Atticus and Amelia Stanton need help.
Of course, in my explanation about Hudson calling me, I can’t leave out Cort’s presence. I don’t want to tell Stoneabout Cort and me like this, but I can’t avoid Cort’s involvement.
“I called Cort,” I lie, bold-faced and straight to the face of my hero, because whether Cort was in the house or not isn’t the issue right now. Henry is.
If Stone questions why I didn’t call any of my brothers instead, he doesn’t ask.
Instead, he sits back in his swiveling chair and stares at me from across his desk, listening while I explain how Cort drove to the Stanton home, what we saw, what Cort saw of Henry’s condition, and then how I brought the kids back to the house, glossing over how Cort stayed here.
As Cort made the call to the sheriff’s department there was no way to skip over his involvement, plus considering his position as a coach, Cort was obligated to report what he’d seen.
Eventually, Stone leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. Ones that mirror our momma’s, or so I’m told. All of us Sylvers have blue eyes in some shade or other, and it’s been repeatedly mentioned how they were one of her best features. Kind and sweet, loving and honest.
Stone’s eyes are a combination of those characteristics mingled with other traits, original to him. No-nonsense. Steadfast. Protective.
If he has further questions about Cort’s involvement, he doesn’t ask. He simply states, “I’ll have to corroborate Cort’s story with yours.”
“Of course,” I swallow hard, knowing I’ve put all of us in a difficult position. Cort and me. Me and Stone. Stone and Cort.
This isn’t going to end well for anyone, but the people I’m most concerned about are the Stanton kids.
“What will happen to Atticus and Amelia?” I stare at my brother, certain he reads the fear in my eyes. “They can’t stay with Henry.”
Stone sighs. “They can, unfortunately. And they will, fornow. But we’re keeping an eye on the situation.” Stone leans forward. “I’mkeeping an eye on things.”
His words bring me little comfort. The current situation is the voice of three children against an adult, and the adult won this round. I don’t want Atticus and Amelia to eventually be the losers, though.
When I was a kid, any adult I turned to for help was eventually chased off our property by our drunk father. I don’t want that kind of lifestyle for the Stanton children. Or any child.
But as Stone continues to stare at me, leaning forward with his hands clasped on his desk, I sense he’s trying to impart some deeper meaning to his words.
Like he isn’t only keeping an eye on the Stanton kids, but me as well.
35
[Cort]
Henry Stanton was a motherfucking motherfucker, and I couldn’t believe Andy Whitehall bought that shit about boys being boys, and Hudson tossing a ball at Atticus, that Atticus caught with his cheek.
Unfortunately, Henry withdrew Atticus from Haven Hitters, and I had to remind Hudson that he did nothing wrong.
“Not one thing, bud,” I tell him when I pull him aside during our first practice after the weekend. Hudson is standing, but I kneel on one knee so I’m closer to his eye level.
“We know the truth.” I point at my head and then my chest. “And you did not lie.”
I doubt the boys were horsing around that late at night. Sneaking in late night video games? Having the volume too loud? Yelling into headsets forgetting others can hear you? Absolutely guilty. Maybe. But I don’t believe Hudson threw aball at his friend, that pegged him in the face because Atticus was a lousy catcher.
Fucking Henry.
“Other kids are talking,” Hudson reminds me of the chatter among the parents and the kids before practice began.
I nod once, glancing down at the ground to collect my thoughts before looking at him again. “Hudson, I get that you’re walking a fine line. You should always tell the truth, but sometimes that truth does not belong to others. It’s no one’s business what you witnessed, except for your mom, and me, because I was there. And the people who can make it better for Atticus and Amelia, like your uncle.” I leave off Andy because he’s another motherfucking motherfucker who is clearly on some power trip with some backward-ass sympathy for Henry.
