Page 53 of The Penalty

“Then... what is it? Please tell me. Maybe I can do something.”

“You can’t do anything. I’m fucked up. No one can do anything for me.”

“I’d like to try. Maybe you can tell me about it?” I’m pleading now. Seeing him like this slashes my heart to shreds.

“I’m going to sit in the car. You don’t need this right now. You’ve got your own worries and I’m dragging you down. Like I knew I would.” He jumps up from the seat, hurrying back toward the door.

I’m stunned for a minute, my butt glued to the seat. But no. He doesn’t get to do that. Take off without talking to me. That’s not the way this thing works.

A vicious wind kicked in while we were inside, almost knocking me on my ass, but I push through. His hands are braced on the hood of my brother’s car and his shoulders are shuddering. It’s cold, but I don’t think that’s the problem.

“Dev, let’s sit in the car. We can talk or be silent. Whatever you need. It’s too cold out here and you’ve only got that thin shirt on.”

His complete lack of movement is starting to worry me. “Come on, Dev. Just get in the car with me. I’m cold.”

A touch of guilt nags at me. I’m using my own comfort to push him, but it works. He finally stirs, arms flexing as he pushes off the hood. “Right.” He comes around my side of the car, opening the door for me, and then settling into the driver’s seat. His hands are gripping the wheel so had his knuckles havegone white.

“What is it, Dev?” I place an arm on his shoulder, giving him a soft squeeze and letting the heat from his body seep into my chilly fingers.

It takes everything in me to control all the thoughts and questions racing through my brain from bursting out. That’s not what he needs right now. He’s like a wild animal. I need to give him a moment to trust me. Then hopefully I’ll get something, anything, out of this stoic man.

A shiver ripples my skin as the cold sets in again. It’s better in here, away from the powerful bite of the wind, but it’s not warm.

“It’s stupid. The backpack thing.” His voice creaks out a little rusty.

I rub circles on his arm but hold my tongue. Waiting for him.

The harsh breath he blows up fogs the windshield. “My mother died when I was tiny. Don’t remember anything about her. Except the smell of the hospital room where we visited her in those last days.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Like I said. I don’t even remember her. How can you miss someone you never knew?”

“I think you can. You can be sad about the things you missed out on. The chance to get to know her.”

“I guess. My dad always drank. I’m pretty sure. He was a blue collar go to work, come home and crack a few beers everyday kind of guy, but after she died, he got out of control. He spiraled. He stopped looking after himself. He stopped lookingafter me. He lost the house, and we started moving around to a new apartment every few months.”

His words slam into me in a rush of pain. I’d gathered he didn’t grow up well off or have an amazing childhood. But this is worse than I thought. He was just a kid who had lost his mother, and then his father abandoned him too. I can’t even imagine. My parents are not great at being parents, but at least I had a stable home. I had Beau, and people who cared about me. I can’t imagine the pain he endured.

“Sometimes there was no food in the fridge. Sometimes there was no heat in the winter. Sometimes he left me alone for days at a time. Off on some bender, or God knows what. The apartments got worse and worse. The last one had rats, and I’d wake up to a creature skittering across my arm in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, Dev.” No wonder he’s scared of my pets. I thought it was... I don’t even know what I thought, but that is something I never could have guessed.

“Anyway. A teacher finally noticed, and they took me away. I didn’t want to go. No matter how bad it was, he was still my dad. He was all the family I had. I was already angry, and it got worse after that. I lashed out at every family that took me in. So, I bounced around a lot. Some of them were nice. They tried to help me. They tried to be nice. Others... not so much.”

The moonlight shining through the window bathes him in a pale glow as he tilts his head back, leaning in his seat.

“I probably would have ended up in jail if it wasn’t for the Neelands taking me in when I was ten. Wayne was a formercollege hockey player. He ran a local league and coached a couple of teams, including a group my age. I’d never even been on the ice when he brought me to the rink with him. He was nice, but he didn’t put up with any of my shit. And as soon as I hit the ice, I knew.”

“You knew you wanted to play hockey?” Wow, that’s incredible.

A bar of a laugh comes out. “God no. I hit the ice so hard I had bruises for a week that day. But a couple of the other kids laughed at me flailing about there and Wayne got super pissed at them. He gave them a lecture, and...” he pauses. “I think that was the first time anyone had stood up for me. It changed something in me. I felt like I needed to prove myself. To make him proud. I started showing up every day. I practiced until I had blisters up the backs of my heels. I’d skate until my legs were numb. And it didn’t take long for me to get the hang of it. A year in and I was playing better than the rest of the eleven-year-olds.”

“I’m glad you found someone.” I don’t think this is the end of it, though. His eyes have a distant look in them as he deliberates over his next words.

“By the time I was fourteen, I was playing with kids older than me, but then my foster mom Jenny’s mother got sick, and they moved back to Florida to look after her. They had a lot going on, and they couldn’t take me with them.”

“That’s terrible. I am so sorry.” To finally find stability and a home where people care about you, only to have it torn away again must have been heartbreaking for him.

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