Page 56 of The Way Back Home

“But you didn’t.”

He shrugs. “August showed up.”

I laugh. “That’s it, huh?”

“He’s one scary-ass motherfucker.”

“Language,” I warn with my best impersonation of an angry mamma.

He smiles, his white teeth so stark against that handsome, dark face. Josiah seems oblivious to the way girls look at him, but he’ll be breaking hearts soon enough. I’m sure of it. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“You know, if you don’t wanna be stuck here like the rest of your family, then you need to work your ass off to get out,” I tell him honestly.

He shakes his head and makes a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “I ain’t ever getting outta here.”

“Josiah Webb,” I say sternly. “You quit talkin’ like that. A couple of months and you’ll be an adult. You’ll be free of this place, and you never have to look back.”

“Well, you gonna get outta that car, boy?” Cole Webb shouts from his front porch stoop, and Josiah stiffens beside me. His window is down, and there’s every chance his father heard what we were saying. “Or are you just gonna sit there yacking all fuckin’ night with some pretty piece of ass?”

He sighs. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“Hey,” I say, grabbing his forearm. “You do not have to apologize for him.”

“I better go.”

“Okay,” I say, against my better judgment. All I want to do right now is just drive away with this kid, but though he may be incompetent as a parent, Mr. Webb is Josiah’s father, and running away with Josiah in tow would be kidnapping. “It gets better than this.”

For a beat, Josiah just looks at me, then he shakes his head, opens the door, and climbs out of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” I set Betty down on the passenger seat and start the engine as Josiah trudges up the overgrown path. I don’t peel away from the curb because everything in me tells me to wait, to stay, to take him away from here.

Cole doesn’t move from the stoop as Josiah tries to pass. Instead, he leans his arm against the porch railing to stop Josiah from climbing the stairs. “Where you been, boy?”

“Workin’, Pop.”

“Workin’ huh? Well, where the hell is your pay? You workin’ for that white bitch for free, or is she showing you her sweet pink pussy as payment?”

My blood boils. I grind my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. I unfasten my belt and grab the handle, but before I can get outside, Josiah shocks the hell outta me by snapping, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“What’d you say?” Cole stands, shoving his son back a step, and then I’m out of the car, stalking up the path as he grabs Josiah’s collar and swings his arm back, his hand balled into a fist. “You don’t talk back to me, you hear? You don’t ever talk back.”

His fist slams into the side of Josiah’s face, and the kid is knocked on his ass on the front porch. I don’t think about my feet moving toward them, or the vehemence spewing from my mouth as I stand between Josiah and this mean old bastard. “Touch him again and I will end you.”

All I can think about is protecting Josiah. All I care about is standing up for him the way I wish someone had stood up for me when I was a kid and a man twice my age took everything from me.

I am tired of bullies; I am tired of assholes who think they can demand respect with their fists. I shove Cole, and his eyes go wide as he stumbles back a step. I’m probably the only person in his life who ever has. He doesn't look like he’s taking it well because his gaze burns into me with hatred. Fear twists my gut, and before I can even anticipate how he will respond, he swings his arm back and it connects with my cheek. Pain explodes through my jaw and eye socket, and I land on my ass on the porch just like Josiah. From the car, Xena’s barking pierces through the ringing in my ears. Josiah’s father lunges for me, and I close my eyes, but the blow doesn’t come. Josiah is on his feet, a blur of shadow in the evening light as he and Cole wrestle across the porch. With a guttural roar, he slams the older man back into the coffee table. It breaks beneath their combined weight.

I scream and scramble to my feet, attempting to pull the boy off his dad before he beats him bloody. He’s stronger than me, and probably outweighs me by at least forty pounds. “You don’t,” he says, punching his father in the face, “talk to her.”Punch.“Like that.”Punch. Punch. Punch.

“Josiah, stop!” I yank at his shoulder, his shirt, anything I can get purchase on. My head is spinning, my vision is fuzzy, and my stomach roils with nausea. He won’t let up. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

The kid’s panting heavily, breath see-sawing out of his lungs when he finally gets to his feet. His dad splutters and rolls onto his side, letting out a choked laugh. “That all you got, you little pussy?”

Josiah takes a step forward, and I throw myself on his back, yanking him away by wrapping both arms around his chest. Even then he drags me a few paces before I can stop him. “You wanna get outta here? You walk away now. Keep going, and you’ll wind up in prison. You’re better than that, Josiah. You're better than him.”

He staggers backward and shrugs off my hold. I reach for his arm again, but he shakes his head and holds up a hand to ward me away as he glares down at his father. He’s shaking like a leaf; we both are.

“Get in the car,” I snap.

---