Page 103 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
I startle at his words. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to upset you,” he says softer this time, his voice vulnerable, his body defeated.
“After everything I’ve been through, I assure you, you can’t upset me.” And I truly want to believe that, but I already know it’s an untruth. Grant Malone serves to be the one person capable of hurting me the most.
“I can’t? How is that—”
“Nope. Nothing does,” I lie, hoping he leaves it be and doesn’t call me on the fact that I just admitted differently moments ago.
He angles his head to the side and stares at me. His silent scrutiny unnerving.
“So, if I told you I think Keely’s dad is abusing her but I have no proof to go on, you’d be okay with that? What if I told you I used our rock secret? That I stop by there more often than I should to make sure there is no rock painted like a watermelon, which is her signal to tell me she needs help. You’re telling me none of that triggers anything for you?”
I stare at him with my head shaking and my mind rejecting everything he just said, even the stuff I don’t understand. All I can think of is that beautiful little girl with the tear-stained face and the haunted eyes and wonder if that was what I looked like to everyone who saw me.
“No.” I whisper the word, but my body burns with shame as I dig my nails deeper into my flesh.
“No?” he shouts, finally losing his cool. “How, Em? How is that possible?”
“Because it is, okay?” I yell back, itching for a fight to cover the emotions overwhelming me. “Screw it. Just take me home.”
“No.” The muscle pulses in his clenched jaw as his body visibly vibrates with anger.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he demands.
“Because you make me feel, damn it! You make me feel when I don’t want to feel, Grant. And being numb is how I deal, so please,” I say, my voice breaking and almost turning into a sob, “take me home.”
I see the minute my desperation hits him. His anger dissipates. His shoulders sag. His eyes fall vulnerable. And then he walks to the driver’s side of the truck and climbs in, doing as I asked without saying another word.
“Why are you out here?”
I shrug as I look over to Grant on his BMX, gloves on his hands and motorcycle helmet on, and know he’s pretending he’s competing in the X-Games. “Just cuz,” I say, not wanting to tell him it’s because my mom just got called into work for a patient and I’d rather be outside.
Outside is safe.
Outside is where I can hide.
“Whatcha doing?” He lays his bike down on the grass and begins to unbuckle his helmet as he walks over to me.
I look at the rocks in front of me, and my cheeks burn because they didn’t turn out as pretty as I thought I could make them. The dog I painted on one looks like a big blob of brown. The smiley face I painted on the other is yellow, but the eyes are weird, and I couldn’t fix them. Embarrassed, I take what’s left on the paintbrush and just draw lines on the rock in front of me.
“Nothing. Just being stupid.”
“Oh, those are kinda cool.”
“You don’t have to say that to be nice.”
“No. Really.” He drops his helmet onto the sidewalk with a clunk, and I know Chief Malone would get that line in his forehead like he does if he saw Grant treat his things like that. But I don’t say a word because I’m too busy chewing the inside of my cheek and waiting for Grant to make fun of me.
He picks up each rock and looks at it like he does his Matchbox cars, and I fidget, worried about what he thinks.
“I think we should make a zombie one, too.” I roll my eyes and begin to argue. “No, seriously. We can add stitches to the forehead and . . .” He takes the paintbrush from me and starts adding things to my smiley face rock.
I don’t know how long we do this, but by the time we’re done, my cheeks hurt from laughing so hard. We have about fifteen rocks in front of us that have all been boy-ified, and I’m okay with that.
“So, why are you really out here, Em?” he asks as we lean against the side of the house where the shade has fallen.
