Page 13 of Hero: Claimed

My brain shuts down. Seeing Brinley cry kickstarts some primal man urge and I stomp over, grab her belt loops to spin her around and shove her, forcing her to take steps backward.

“Hero, what are you doing?”

I keep shoving.

“Hero?”

Her back hits the wall and I position my body to block her from everyone, then use my bent finger to tip her chin up to look at me. “First. You call me ‘Levi.’ Not Hero. Second. You are worth more than cooking and cleaning. Third.” I make sure she’s looking in my eyes. “You look beautiful today, okay? It’s not me saying this to make you feel better. You simply look beautiful. So get that shit Destini said out of your head.”

“I can’t… because I don’t believe you. I’ve got a lifetime of people telling me the opposite. A lifetime telling me your words simply aren’t true.”

“Go on back to our room, Brin.”

“Why?”

“I think you know why. We need to talk and the kitchen isn’t the place for it. Now go.”

Tears roll down her cheeks and she pushes past me. This time I let her go, not following. What can I do? She’s not going to believe anything I tell her and it’s not right of me to pretend like I want more from her than to help. I’m not even sure what I’m going to say. I knock my head against the drywall hoping to knock some sense into myself.

I’m always going to take care of her. For however long she needs, she’s got that. But maybe… maybe we could work at the rest. We’ve got time, right?

5.

Brinley

I walk back to the room, shut the door behind me, and moved to sit on the bed. My mind is fraught with what he might want to talk to me about.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

The alarm clock on his bedside table says I’ve been sitting here for nearly fifteen minutes when the doorknob twists, the door opens, and Hero finally graces me with his presence. I sit up straighter, irritated that he’s left me sitting here so long.

Before he has the chance to speak, I beat him to the punch. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“Brin—”

“I don’t think whatever you’re about to say is what you really want to talk about. You won’t go, I’ll go. And I mean that in the literal sense. You had good intensions; I believe that. But I embarrass you. What the hell must Destini think, you coming to my defense?” Hero looks like he wants to interject something, opening his mouth, but I hold my hand up to stop him. “I hoped that Hannah would help me, but she left me once before, so I shouldn’t be surprised she’s not helping now. I’ve been alone most of my life.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says and it sounds like a command. As if I’ll listen to any command he gives? I might have before, but not now.

“I am. I’m heading up to Canada. I’ll have to get my car a legal plate, which I’m not looking forward to. It puts me here in Thornbriar for anyone looking—especially when I have to update my driver’s license to get that. But none of that matters. If I can cross the border into Canada, I can put everyone behind me.”

“Listen to yourself. How’re you gonna cross into Canada without a passport?”

“Canada has the longest border with the US, the majority of which is unmanned. I didn’t say it wouldn’t take planning. But once I get north enough, I can figure things out. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Know you’re not stupid, Brin. But you stole a truck and cash from a Devil’s Riot. You bashed his face against a truck to knock him out.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?”

“That man has your face plastered everywhere by now, lowlife scum willing to turn you in for a payday. I said I’d take care of you, and I will,” he yells at me, all condescending like he thinks I really am stupid even though I just told him I’m not. I’m not stupid. I might be disgusting to look at, but I have a brain and I know how to use it.

“I don’t want you to take care of me. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved, Hero. And I’ll never be loved.” The goddamn tears rim my eyes again. I hate tears. I hate crying. I hate being so stinking vulnerable.

His voice softens when he asks, “Why won’t you ever be loved?”

I laugh humorlessly at the sheer audacity of his question. Then I run my hand from my head down the length of my body. “I’m fat.”

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