Page 12 of Wolf Cursed
My stomach sank. I shook my head.
He uncapped it and held it out anyway. “You look like you need it as much as I do,” he said. “Maybe more.”
I shook my head again, bile rising. If this guy drank as much as my father, how was he supposed to help me? It felt like I’d just walked into another version of the life I’d left behind.
“I’m good,” I said.
Oscar shrugged and tipped it back, emptying half the contents before he came up for air again. Outside, the sound of an engine grew louder. Closer. I turned to see a black motorcycle rounding the corner from the back alley. The rider made the turn onto the main road way faster than he should have.
Even with the helmet he wore that obscured his face, I knew it was Kai.
He didn’t even look over as he sped away on two wheels.
I looked back at Oscar, unable to take the silence anymore.
“Are you going to say something?”
“My brother’s name was Caleb Lawson when I knew him.”
His voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of anger that kept me on edge, no matter how calm he appeared to me. Still, curiosity made it impossible to stay quiet.
“What do you mean ‘when you knew him?’”
He sighed. “I haven’t seen or heard from Caleb in twenty years.”
“Why not?”
“Good question. Guess you’d have to ask him.”
“Well, I can’t because he’s dead.”
I’d meant to say the words in a flat voice. Uncaring. Untouched by it. But it was the first time I’d said it out loud, and my voice cracked on the last word.
Oscar’s expression fell. For a split second, I saw the pain he carried at having lost his brother, not once but twice now. Then the neutral mask slid back into place.
His eyes zeroed in on my face knowingly. “That isn’t makeup you’re wearing, is it?”
“Why the hell would I fake getting the shit beat out of me?” I retorted.
He softened. Only by a few inches, but it was enough.
“What happened?”
I took a breath to steady myself, and before I knew what was happening, the truth was spilling out of me. Well, most of it anyway. There were secrets I would never utter, not for anyone. But this was close enough.
“My mom left when I was thirteen. After that, my dad became paranoid. We moved a lot, and he drank—to cope, I guess. A couple of years ago, he started gambling. Stupid stuff. Card games. Betting. Problem was he couldn’t afford it. Last night, a bookie came to collect.”
“Is that who did this to you?”
I nodded.
Oscar didn’t respond.
My head throbbed, and my body felt like it had been hit by a truck. The last two days were catching up, and I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could handle before my body simply gave out on me.
“Why did you come here?”
My temper rose at the question. The challenge in it. It was clear he didn’t want me here. Which meant I would have to figure out my next move. And I’d have to do it without a car.
