Page 47 of Avery's Hero

I don’t even give him a response to using my name like a curse. We’ve already had this conversation.

Sounding surprisingly young, he asks, “Can we get some food? I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

After I steam for a few miles, I finally look over. He’s got his head back, his eyes closed. That’s when I see how dark the circles are under his eyes. His cheeks are sunken and his pale lips are pressed tight. Looks like he’s in hell inside his own head.

It punches me in the chest. Shit. I suddenly feel really bad for the kid.

It’s hard being a teenager. Ask me how I know…

I’ve done all the same shit. Well, not exactly the same shit. But I’ve run the roads, had plenty of fistfights, skipped school, been suspended, lost my head over girls, wrecked cars. You name it. I’ve done it.

No wonder my parents were in a rage all the time.

Sighing, I soften my voice and say, “Yeah. I can do that. I know a good place that’s not too far away.”

There’s a diner right by the highway that has goodbreakfast food. I pick the booth in the back, where no one else can hear our conversation… in case he decides to talk. Or in case I decide to tell him about the school I’ve been looking at.

Which I won’t do, because he’s going to have a fit of rage.

I can feel it coming like a storm.

As I sit across from him, I watch as he orders two full breakfasts plus a side of toast with butter and jelly. He’s grown so fucking much. I can’t believe it. Another few inches and he’ll be past where I was at his age.

He’s gonna be a big man when he reaches his full height. Probably in his early twenties if he’s like me. That’s when I hit six foot three.

His muscles have really started to fill out. For years, I’d wondered if he’d be lanky like his mother or built like me. Looking at him is like looking in the mirror at a younger version of myself. Right down to the dark, dark green eyes. It’s a trait we got from my grandfather. To this day, I’ve never seen eyes like ours, so dark green they are nearly black.

When I’ve had enough of the awkward silence, I say, “You’re probably going to get community service.”

He glares at me, says flatly, “I know. I know all about it. My friend Mick just got busted for the same thing.”

“So, he hitchhiked to San Diego and got caught trespassing?”

“Nah, he just got caught skateboarding at the library at two AM in Lynn’s Cove. Trespassing, though.”

“That’s a little different than scaling the wall into a gated community in a city where you don’t live. What were you doing?”

He shrugs. “I needed to talk to someone.”

My brows drop. “Who do you know in San Diego?”

He flips his phone around in his hands and purposefully won’t look at me. “It’s not important.”

“I disagree.”

I’ll be getting a copy of the phone records detailing every damned call and text the kid’s made. I’ve never had to go that far before, but he’s never gone this far before either.

The waitress shows up and slides his plate of toast in front of him. She promises to bring my meal right away. Linc proceeds to dive in and eat like a farm animal.

“I’m taking your phone and you’ll be on lockdown at the house.”

He glances up as he chews. “I figured.”

“Whatever you did was worth all of this?”

He nods.

“That’s it?”

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