Page 8 of Dropping In

“Then why are you out here alone instead of at home enjoying gourmet cuisine from the land with her?”

His voice is hard—like he is kind of joking, kind of not. A shiver scrapes over me again, and I set my empty dinner carton aside to wrap my arms around my knees. “She’s having a rough day.”

Now his eyes snap back to mine, and I see him give me a quick scan before coming back. “You okay?” he asks. There’s something in his voice…I don’t need to ask about his eye anymore. I can guess, and what flies into my mind makes my stomach cramp.

“Are…” I lick my lips, eyes traveling to the bruise right above his cheek. “Are you?”

He stares a second longer, so intent, and then he flicks his eyes to the ground so I can barely make his profile out in the glow of the half moon. “No big deal. Why is your mom having a hard time?”

I struggle with the surge of disappointment that he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me what happened, and then I call myself a stupid little girl again. Of course he doesn’t trust me—why would he?

Clearing my throat, I look away from him and out to the water. “Luke—her boyfriend—left earlier in the week.”

“Like, forever?”

I nod. “Yeah, he uh, said something about being bored, not having enough excitement here.” My shoulders rise and fall in what I hope is a shrug, but the tears I wouldn’t shed in my house have swarmed to the surface, and it takes some work to keep them from pouring out.

“Jesus, what an asshole.” I nod, putting my head down and swiping at the lone tear that escapes. Malcolm must notice, because he says my name, and then he’s next to me, shifting until his arm is around my shoulders. I would be ecstatic at any other moment, but all I can think about right now is how glad I am that he’s here, even if I’m mortified to be crying. “Fuck—I mean, crap, Nala. Are you okay?”

I nod, wiping furiously at my face even though the tears just seem to fall harder. “It’s not like he was my dad,” I wheeze. “He just…he lived with us a long time, and it kind of felt like, even though I knew he wasn’t, that maybe he wanted to be my dad. You know, because hewantedto be, not because he knocked someone up and had to be.” I hiccup and turn my face into Mal’s shoulder when he wraps me closer. “Stupid.”

“Not you,” he snaps. Then I hear him take a deep breath, and let it out on a shaky exhale. His arm stays firm around me, but his grip loosens a little, not like he’s letting go…more like he’s being careful. “My mom left,” he says.

I stay still, breathing in his scent and his warmth, wondering if he’ll say more. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “A few years ago. My dad…he has a temper. Actually, he’s an asshole, a mean one. Mom, she couldn’t take it. So she grabbed my sister and left him.” He taps his face with his free hand. “Can’t really blame her.”

I wrench back, hands balancing on his chest when I stare at him. “She left you with him? Even though she knows he hurts you?”

Mal shrugs, bringing me back down against his chest so I’m not looking him in the face. “Like your Luke, she wasn’t really my mom. Just someone who filled the space for the last decade since my real mom took off.”

My heart breaks a little, because as much as it hurt to know Lucas left…I can’t even think of what it would feel like if my mom left. And Malcolm…he has no one. Two women who have left, and a dad who uses him for a punching bag.

“Nala?”

I nod. “Don’t tell Ashton what I just said, okay? Brooks and Hunter…they sort of know, but not all of it.” He swallows, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he sounds a little unsure. “I don’t want them to know everything.”

Something in my chest turns and squeezes, and I want to throw my arms around him and promise to keep every secret he has, but I don’t know how to do that. Instead, I nod, hoping he understands I mean it. “I promise.”

We sit a while longer, not talking, just being, his arms around me, blocking me from the wind and everything else that seems to threaten me, my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart while I fall all the way in love.

“Promise me one more thing?”

Anything. “Yeah?”

Fierce Malcolm is back when he speaks. “I put my number in your phone. Don’t come out here alone anymore, not at night.” He swallows, his jaw tense, and the urge to smooth it is back. “You aren’t safe at night.”

A shiver runs through me, and he rubs his hand up my arm, just a brief stroke, but it calms me enough to speak. “I promise.”

+ + +

Present Day

That was the first of many promises I made Mal my twelfth and thirteenth year. Almost three years older, we didn’t see each other at school, or parties. But always, I texted him if I was going to the water at night…and always, he showed up.

Which is why I’m here now. However much I’ve distanced myself from him over the years, I can’t let him do this alone. Not when, no matter how hard he pushes, I know that more than his leg is hurting him.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, closing the door behind me. He’s already dumped his backpack into the overstuffed chair, and is making his way through the open living room to the fancy glass doors he had Hunter put on when he rebuilt this place, sliding the accordion-style panels open. The wind blows through, bringing with it the smell of the ocean. He can only see a small speck of it from his rare, and treasured, private square of land, but with the doors open, it feels like more.

“Carmen Rojas was worried about you; she brought over a ton of food with Isa yesterday. She cleaned your house, too” I say, hoping he’ll relax and maybe even laugh. If there is one thing Malcolm has always enjoyed, it’s female attention. Instead, his shoulders stiffen, and he whips his head to me.

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