Page 25 of September's Bad Boy: Cooper
The teen stumbles back, blade clattering to the ground. “What the—what is that?”
Jason turns slowly, eyes wide. “Is that?—?”
“Yeah,” I say, heart still hammering. “That’s Hades.”
The remaining older boys don’t wait for introductions. They bolt into the night, tripping over themselves to get away.
Hades doesn’t chase. He just stands there, a silent sentinel in the dark. Watching.
After a long beat, he blinks once—then disappears out the door and behind the building toward the tree line like he was never there.
We stand there, chests heaving, surrounded by broken shelves and scared kids.
Jason wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You okay?"
I nod, though my ribs throb. "You?"
He nods once, then looks around. The boys are huddled together, Colby crying quietly, with Trent standing protectively in front of him.
We call Lawson, and he shows up twenty minutes later, pulling into the parking lot with his lights low but flashing. The boys gather nervously in a group outside the shop, eyes flicking between him and the busted window.
Lawson steps out, surveys the damage, then looks to me and Jason. "You two want to walk me through what happened?"
We do, taking turns explaining while Lawson takes notes on his pad. Trent steps up beside us. "It wasn’t Coop’s fault. That guy—he was making us do it. I didn’t know what to do. So, I texted Jason."
Lawson nods, his tone gentler now. "You did the right thing, son. Calling for help? That takes guts. None of you are in trouble tonight. You’re witnesses, not suspects. We’ll get the guy who started this."
Relief floods their young faces, and for the first time since the chaos, the tension breaks. Lawson claps Colby on the shoulder, then turns back to the boys. "I’ll give you all a ride home so we can talk to your parents. They’ll need to hear what happened tonight and how you stepped up. I’ll make sure they know you did the right thing."
The boys nod slowly, some still wiping at their eyes. Lawson motions them toward his cruiser, and they file in.
Before Trent follows, I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. "You did good, Trent," I say, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know that wasn’t easy. You made the right call."
He nods, but his voice is shaky. "I didn’t want to be like my dad. I just... didn’t know what to do."
"You already chose differently tonight. That matters."
Jason moves toward them, murmuring soft reassurances. Then, he turns back to me.
"I was wrong about you," he says. "About everything."
We sit down outside on the cracked sidewalk, backs against the wall of the building. The air smells like dust and sweat and summer heat clinging to the pavement. My jaw aches, and blood trickles from a cut near my temple.
I lean my head back against the brick wall, exhaling slowly. "How do you know Trent?"
Jason glances down the street. "I’ve been working with him a little, mostly talking. His dad… he’s a lot like how you used to be. Trent and I kind of bonded over it."
I blink, surprised. "You’ve been mentoring him?"
Jason shrugs. "I didn’t call it that, but… yeah, I guess. Just trying to be there for him. Like I wish someone had done for me when I was younger."
The ache in my chest is a strange mix. Pride. Regret. Maybe both tangled together.
For a while, we don’t talk. Just breathe in peaceful silence.
After a couple minutes I say, "I thought being your father meant keeping you from seeing my mistakes. But maybe it means showing you how to rise after making them."
Jason’s quiet. But he doesn’t move away.
