Page 16 of Fourteen Years

“Shhhhh.” I said, going over and drawing her into my arms.

“Lacey,” I whispered, “You could’ve been killed.”

I broke off, my voice cracking.

She cried harder.

“Who is this boy? You’ve never mentioned a Jackson? He doesn’t even sound like he’s in your usual group of friends. Nineteen?” I drew back staring at her.

She avoided my eyes, picking at her fingernails.

“Jackson Flinton.” she said. “I met him at the pool a couple of weeks ago. He graduated when I was a freshman. I knew of him in school-”

“Flinton?” Trevor interrupted. Turning my head I stared at him. His eyes were narrowed on our daughter. “As in Richard Flinton’s son?”

Now Trevor’s voice was rising, almost like he was panicking. My own eyes narrowed on him in concern at what this meant, head turning back towards my daughter questioningly.

“Yes?” she answered. Seeming to not understand whatever had her father on edge.

“WHERE’S MY BOY!” came bellowed from the hallway, right before a large hand yanked the curtain back from the room entrance.

A huge lumbering man stood there, breathing heavily. Dark eyes, wild and oily shoulder-length brown hair hung limply around his shoulders. He was wearing a stained white tank top and ratty jeans that had seen better days. They sagged around his waist, the belt not doing its job. A beer belly stood out and his arms were covered in tattoos. Not the artwork Trevor, Lucas, and all the guys had. These looked like poorly hashed out random ideas that were permanent mistakes. He reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Lacey cowered behind me at the intrusion and my body instinctively moved in front of her.

The man's eyes swung over us before landing on Trevor standing at the foot of the hospital bed.

“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here, old friend.” he smirked, the nurse that had been attempting to stop him from entering our room, wringing her hands nervously.

“Is it?” Trevor’s voice was hard and cold. I’d never heard it like this.

“Considering it was your fucking kid that had my underage daughter out past curfew?” Trevor’s voice was clipped, shaking in rage, and I stood suddenly feeling the urge to restrain him.

The man laughed rudely, crossing his arms.

“My boys got good taste. It's a small world, Connor. Think you could move on and do better than all of us and just leave everything behind?”

“What is going on?” I interrupted, moving in front of Trevor, holding both hands out like I could hold these giant men back from each other. There was a volatile tension in the room and I was feeling slightly nauseous. I didn’t need this happening in front of my child either, even if she was almost a grown woman.

“Must be the missus.” The man spoke condescendingly to me. “Introduce us, Connor. We’re old friends. We go way back.”

“We’re not friends, Richard.” snapped Trevor, stepping forward, his flat, muscled stomach pressing into my hand. “Never were.”

“Okay.” I said. “I think you should leave, Mr. Flinton.” My voice was coming out stronger than I felt at the moment.

Looking at this man’s hard eyes, I sensed a danger. All my nerves were on high alert and I could feel myself about to lose it again.

“I’ll leave.” Richard smirked again. “But, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

He left, the room reeking of his odor, and Lacey spoke first.

“Who was that?” her voice was small and timid.

Trevor shrugged out of his fireman’s coat angrily and threw it in the hospital chair.

“That was your new boyfriend’s father.” he said, running both hands through his hair. “And someone from my past that I never wanted to see again. Let alone have involved with you two. Dammit, Lacey!”

He began pacing, and my dread grew. I felt like I may be sick.

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