Page 2 of A New Chapter
Rom closed the door behind them. “Let’s go talk in the living room,” he said.
Aunt Roberta guided the boy into the living room and Colton followed, his mind reeling. Sure, the kid looked…
Just like me.
On feet he couldn’t feel, Colton followed them all into the living room. “What’s going on?” he asked.
The boy had started crying again, standing there with his arms tightly wrapped around himself like he’d never had a hug before. He was blond and had brown eyes—it was like looking in a mirror into the past. In fact, as if ancient scabs had been ripped from Colton’s soul, he remembered the cold, shattering fear he’d felt while on the phone with Grammy that horrible afternoon when he was twelve, sobbing so hard he could barely get the words out, when he’d called her to tell her what had happened. He’d locked himself in his bedroom, and out in the hallway his father ranted, screaming at him that he wanted him out.
Gone.
That he didn’thavea son anymore.
Aunt Roberta wore a look on her face that was somewhere between grief and rage. He remembered her wearing a similar look that day twenty years ago, when she and Uncle Mike had also shown up, along with a bunch of their friends, to help Grammy move him out of his parents’ home.
“Clayton’s your little brother,” she said. “He’s thirteen. He showed up downstairs, looking for me. He didn’t even know you were alive.”
“What happened?” Rom asked. “How’d you get here?” Colton was glad Rom took over, because he was literally speechless.
“He hitchhiked here from Georgia,” Aunt Roberta said. “He came out to them last night, and they threw him out.”
“Shit,” Colton muttered.
He watched her swallow back rage. “I need to get back downstairs, because we have a full store down there, but you two need to…talk.”
Colton’s brain finally engaged and he stepped over to the boy, his arms open to him. “Come here, buddy.”
Clayton started sobbing as Colton engulfed him in a hug. The boy was thin, like he’d been at that age, and nearly six feet tall, looking years older than he was. He was nearly two inches taller than Rom’s five-ten.
“What thehelliswrongwith those people?” Rom asked as he wrapped his arms around both of them.
“I don’t know,” Aunt Roberta said in a dark tone. “But I’d sure like to beat some sense intobothof them.”
The boy was crying too hard to talk, so Colton and Rom stood there and held him, waiting him out. After a couple of minutes, Rom guided them over to the sofa and then went to the kitchen. He returned moments later with a box of tissues and a glass of water.
“Here, drink this,” Rom said, offering him the glass after the boy blew his nose. “Have you eaten?”
The boy shook his head as he gulped the water. “Not today,” he said, sniffling. “I was too upset.”
“Oh, this is my husband, Rom,” Colton said.
The boy nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“His bags are downstairs,” Aunt Roberta said. “In the office.”
“I’ll come down and get them after we get some food in him,” Rom said.
She nodded. “I’ll come back to check on you boys in a little while.”
“Thanks, Aunt Roberta,” Rom said, seeing her out.
Colton knew he should be talking, sayingsomething, but right now all he could think to say were a lot of expletives.
Rom returned. “Do you have any food allergies?” he asked the boy.
Clayton shook his head. “No, sir.”
Colton bit back the urge to laugh, because the boy—
