Page 65 of Those Heartless Boys

Instead of focusing on school, I read through Stone’s contract. With each clause I decipher, I know he’s trying. Actually, this is probably the best gift he could give me.

When we returned home from my dad’s house a couple of days ago, I hid the key to the safe behind the nightstand in my room, taping it to the back where no one could easily find it. It’s been years since I’ve even seen the safe, but I know what’s in it. Dad used to say, “Everything you might forget, it’s in there.” Maybe he was preparing me for the time he wouldn’t be here all along.

The last class I have for the day ends, and I don’t even realize. Wyatt saunters up to me while everyone quietly shuffles out of the room. I try to hide the contract quickly, but it’s no use. “He surprised you, didn’t he?”

I nod. There’s no use hiding anything from these guys anymore. It’s sad, but I know these guys more than anyone else. My dad’s gone and Dickie’s a friend, but he could never be a friend I could lean on.

“He has a tendency to do that, by the way. You’ll see,” Wyatt says. “You’re a part of us now, whether you sign that contract or not. That’s just a formality to make you feel safe, but I know my best friends. There’s no way they would let anything you know slip out. I can promise you that.”

His words reaffirm everything for me, but I can’t let him get away with that. “You going soft on me, cowboy?”

A hint of a smile teases his lips. “Don’t be calling me out like that, Tits. I have a reputation to uphold.”

I smirk and shake my head, peeking at the contract again. “I guess sometimes I just wish my dad were around, you know?”

He doesn’t say anything for several seconds, but when he does talk, his voice is cold. “Actually, I don’t know,” Wyatt says. “Don’t go getting all pissy, but I’m about to lay down a truth you may not be ready to hear.”

My stomach drops. I switch my gaze to his, already bracing myself for impact. It’s as if I’m sitting in the front seat of a rollercoaster and I know I’m about to go downhill, but it’s not as if I can stop it.

“Your dad didn’t do right by you, Dakota. From what I’ve seen and heard, he was a hermit who dressed you like him, kept you to himself, and made you his little assistant from birth. That was no way to grow up.”

I glare at him, sending him the iciest, piercing gaze I can muster before I get out of my chair and march away. “You ever heard the word poor before, Wyatt? It might be foreign to you.”

He growls behind me, pulling me back into the classroom where it’s just the two of us instead of the hallway where people are still lingering. “I get poor. What I don’t get is him spending every last penny on finding the fucking treasure when he couldn’t even buy you a decent pair of sneakers. You slum it in clothes that don’t even fit you, and yet you just stand here, acting like he’s the best father in the world.”

“Stop,” I say.

He slams the door to the classroom, caging me in on the other side. “Or what?” he asks, his eyebrow hitched practically into his hairline. “Or else you might have to think some hard truths yourself? There was money to search for the treasure, but no money for you. Did you ever go hungry, Dakota? From the way you maneuvered around the cafeteria before you moved in with us, I think you have. I saw the scheme in your eyes. What else did he deprive you of, huh? I saw that fucking house you grew up in. Fuck,” Wyatt says, slamming his fist on the other side of the door. “My heart fucking broke. Why do you think Stone could barely stay in it?”

I swallow, my heart jumping out of my chest. “My dad did what he could.”

“Bullshit,” Wyatt grinds out. The force of his words hit me full on in the face. I’m at the point in the ride where my stomach is in my throat and I can hardly breathe from screaming so much. “He abused you, and you don’t even get it.”

“He never touched me,” I growl.

“There are different ways to be abused. How about neglect? How about emotional abuse? How many times did you stay alone in that house while your dad went out, huh?”

My mind reels. His words take me back in time, but I refuse to believe anything he’s saying. I can’t. I just can’t. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t. I wasn’t always there. But I saw the scared girl in the mountains sometimes. The one that jumped as soon as her dad said something. The one that ate his words up like they were the gold we were all searching for.”

I close my eyes. I wish Wyatt away, but he keeps moving closer. He’s in my space, his chest only a hair’s breadth away from my own.

“You’re twenty, and you’ve never even been outside of Clary, Dakota.” His voice shakes. “Your dad’s lucky he’s gone because if he ever comes back, I’m going to kick his ass.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, shoving him off me finally.

He doesn’t relent though. He gets right back in my face. “Get mad. You should be. He stole your life from you.”

“No,” I scream through clenched teeth.

“He did,” Wyatt says much more calmly now, backing me right into the door again. He cups my face. “I saw you when you tried on those boots. A girl who never had not only new shoes, but shoes that actually fit. Ask me how that happened, Dakota?”

“He got them second-hand,” I say, voice shaking. It wasn’t his fault.

“And there were never shoesyoursize? I’m calling bullshit again. I don’t believe it. There’s a difference between being poor and neglect, and I don’t think your dad ever cared whether you had shoes that fit, and I think somehow in your head, you just went with it. You made up excuses because it was easier to think there weren’t shoes your size instead of realizing your daddy just didn’t care enough to buy you ones that fit. That’s what I think.”

He drops his head to mine, and I suck in a breath. My body is vibrating. I’m at war with myself. “Why do you care?”

---