Page 43 of Liar Byrd
Vonn takes a step away from her, trying to make himself smaller as she dashes around us both and disappears into the house.
I stare after her, and I don’t know what I feel, but it's not good. Not fucking good at all. “You see that?”
“Yeah.” Vonn sounds troubled as he scratches his stubbled jaw. “She was like a beaten dog.”
I know the type.
Growing up in a trailer park on the edge of town wasn’t easy.
My parents were poison.
They destroyed my childhood and ruined my big brother’s life.
I had a dad who spent most of my life in and out of jail, and a big brother who went the same way, leaving a pregnant girlfriend to raise his kid alone. Mom liked to get black-out drunk before she eventually drank herself to death because nothing mattered to her but more booze.
Not me.
Not her two kids.
Nothing but a bottle of Jack to make her forget all about how shit her life was.
Someone hurt that girl.Badly.
“You see any bruises on her?” I ask Vonn, but my eyes are on the door she disappeared through. She’s gone now, probably finding herself another hiding place to get away from me, but I still look after her.
“Not all bruises are on the outside.”
I jerk my head around at Nash’s soft voice.
I hadn’t thought he was even out here.
He’s standing at the side of the house, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Leave her alone, Makhi. Just let her do her job in peace,” he says, not looking at me.
Then he walks into the garden, leaving me with more questions and confusion than I know what to do with.
Chapter 16
Byrdie
“Who touched my fucking bike!”
I freeze in the entryway, my fingers tightening around the cloth in my right hand.
The yell comes again.“Who!”
If I hadn’t emptied the water from my bucket before I came in from the garage seconds ago, I’d have dropped it, and I wouldn’t have cared one bit about the mess I made.
Footsteps stomp toward me.
Twisting around, I sprint away.
I shove everything into a cupboard. Just open the first one I find, fling everything inside, and bolt up the stairs.
“Hey!” Makhi shouts after me.
I gallop up the stairs, throw myself into my room, fumble with the key I drag out of my apron pocket, and lock the door.
Justin time.
