by Ashley Hall
“I have very exciting plans coming up for you, Wesley,” Dad calmly remarked. “And for you too, April.”
I didn’t want to see how Wes was going to take this. He’d been furious when I brought it up in the car. How was he going to handle actually going through with it, with the youth mission trip? It definitely wasn’t what Wes would consider a good time.
Sooner or later, Wes couldn’t hold back anymore. He and Dad were a volatile combination. It wouldn’t take too long for them to blow up at each other, and then what would happen? Would Dad really kick Wes out onto the street? Wes would have nowhere to go. He’d be homeless. At the very least he needed his high school diploma.
Only a few more months. Then Wes could go and be on his way and tinker with cars and motorcycles all he wanted.
A few more months and he’d be out of my life. That was for the best.
But was it actually for the best for him? Could he be changed?
Did I want him to be changed?
And if so, why?
Chapter Thirteen
Wes
The next day, church was disgusting and a nightmare. It seemed like every other row, if not more, were full of other poly families. I just couldn’t get away from it. To say I wasn’t in a good mood would be an understatement.
There were too many of us to all fit in one car, and I ended up riding back to the house—still wasn’t home, would never be home to me—with Jacqueline. For the first mile, we were both quiet. It really rubbed me the wrong way that she hadn’t been one of the ones to speak up for me against Walter yesterday at dinner. April had. So had her mom. Even the boys. But Jacqueline, my own mother, remained mute. That Yvonne had kept silent hadn’t surprised me. She didn’t like me at all, and the feeling was mutual. If Jacqueline wanted to make amends with me, she was doing a shitty job. But what did I expect? Jacqueline only ever put herself first. Now it seemed like she might put her husband before herself, but that still didn’t leave any room for me.
“What do you think of my new job?” I asked.
“It’s…” She hesitated and glanced at her rear view mirror. Walter was driving behind us.
“You do have a mind of your own, don’t you?” I snapped.
“Wesley—”
“You’ve made a lot of choices in your life. You chose to wait until I phased out of the system to come and claim as your son. You chose to enter into a poly family. You chose to be the third wife to a man who is controlling and dominating and—”
“That’s enough!” she barked. Her grip on the steering wheel visibly tightened. “I won’t have you question how I’ve lived my life.”
“How is that fair? Your choices affect me!” I slammed a fist into my open palm.
“Walter is a good man,” she insisted, ignoring me. “You are the ungrateful one. And I know where it stems from. You lack God. You need Him in your life. It will do you good to go on the youth trip.”
Fat chance. I knew what, and who, I needed in my life. I didn’t need to be told what to do or what to believe. God hadn’t answered my prayers for years. Why would I need someone else in my life who would let me down? Just like she had. I’d be so glad when I could leave this house and make it out in the world on my own. If I thought I could get by without a high school degree, I’d jet now.
As soon as we got home, I ran out of the car and up to my room. Walter had bought me a few new clothes for school and church, but I preferred my old clothes. I yanked off the golf shirt in exchange for a regular t-shirt and swapped out of the khakis for ripped jeans and grabbed my leather jacket. It was the only item Walter had gotten me that I appreciated.
Then I knocked on April’s door. Didn’t wait for her to invite me in, just opened the door and shut it behind me.
“Wes…ley,” she said slowly. “What’s up?”
I hated that she seemed so guarded around me all the time. Maybe it was my own fault. Or maybe she saw how my hands were fists, how I was ready to blow up with barely controlled anger. I just wanted to get the hell out of here, and she might be the only one in this house to understand where I was coming from.
Too amped up to sit, I tossed my leather jacket onto her bed and paced around her room. “I hate that your father signed me up for that trip.”
“I was too, and P and P as well.”
I snorted. Maybe the boys could use it, but I didn’t need it, didn’t want it. A waste of time, that’s what it was.
“It’s only for three days, and besides…” she glanced away, “…at least we’d be together.”
Like that was a consolation when she was so hot and cold at times.
“Whatever,” I muttered. Didn’t know why I even bothered to come into her room. “Better get to work.”
***
I took the risk that Walter might see my bike and rode it to work. Didn’t want to be late for the first day, not for a job I actually cared about. Painting houses. What did Walter think I was? Some kind of handyman? No siree, pal. I desired a job I could take satisfaction in.
I thought I would be working with the other underlings, but Mickey had me shadow him. Whenever he asked me to grab a tool, I didn’t need him to describe it for me, and a few times, I was reaching for tools before he even asked for them.
“You know your stuff,” Mickey commented as I checked the charge on a car battery.
Was that a compliment? I didn’t often get them, and that it was concerning something that meant a lot to me—cars and mechanics—I couldn’t help swelling with pride. Up yours, Walter. I know what I want out of life, and it sure as hell isn’t doing whatever you dictate is best for me. You don’t know me from Adam. It’s my life, and I’m gonna do things my way.
Mickey and I talked about cars and even joked around. It was great and made the hours fly by. How the heck did such a cool guy become friends with a bastard like Walter?
Since we were hitting it off so well, I decided to ask him, “How did you and Walter meet?”
“I used to run the girl’s youth group in church. That’s how. You know, you’re lucky to be under his roof.”
I grunted. Luck wasn’t the word I’d use.
“He almost divorced your mother,” Mickey continued. He wheeled himself beneath an Audi.
“He did?” News to me. Didn’t he collect wives? What would be the point in divorcing one? “Why?”
Mickey pulled back out. “Walter learned Jacqueline was infertile. He was furious.”
Whoa. No wonder she walked on eggshells around him, but that she would always pick his side over mine still bothered me. She could leave the asshole at any time, but she obviously wanted to try and stay with him despite his abusive tendencies. A house, a car, money…guessed that meant more to her than being happy and alone. If she truly wanted a chance with me, she should ditch Walter. Leave his ass. But that would never happen.
***
After a good day at work, I returned to the house feeling almost happy. And I also was starving. Dinner tasted delicious, like it always did, but it turned a little sour in my mouth when Walter brought up the youth trip.
“It’s the upcoming weekend after next,” Walter was saying.
I shook my head. “I don’t think that—”
“Wesley, stop,” Jacqueline said sharply. “You’re going, and that’s final. You’re embarrassing. It’ll be good for you.”
I was fuming. How could she call me an embarrassment? They didn’t even know about the party! They had no reason to be nasty to me. What did they think would happen? That I would want to change so they’d leave me alone? Fat chance. It was just a breeding ground for contempt.
Of course, Walter, the prick, couldn’t look more pleased. He reached over and held Jacqueline’s hand. Ah, yes, how romantic. Talking down to your son and belittling him. What a turn-on. Gag me.
I rolled my eyes and shoved some pasta into my mouth. It would be better for me to eat than to go off on him. Because I was ready to. Ready to tell that asshole what I thought of him and
his lifestyle and where he could shove it.
The only thing holding me back from giving him a piece of my mind and leaving this hellhole was April. She deserved better than this, even if she was too scared to stand up for herself. What if that asshole redirected his anger and took it out on her? I couldn’t risk it.
So I ate and kept my head down, trying to ignore them. At least they stopped bothering me for a few minutes, and the table was oddly quiet as we continued to eat.
When everyone had finished, Walter lowered his fork and knife onto his plate. “Wesley, you can do the dishes tonight. And clean the table too. You obviously need more work to keep you busy.”
What the hell? Like I wasn’t busy. I had worked all day long. The fucker didn’t know what he was talking about. I’d had some shitty foster fathers, but Walter just might end up being the one I hated the most.
Everyone else went to bed. Man, did I despise it here. As fine as this place was, there wasn’t a dishwasher, and it took me forty-five minutes to wash all of the dishes. Normally, two or three of us did the dishes together. Doing them alone was definitely a punishment. At least the hard pot scrubbing allowed me to get out some of my frustrations.
Footsteps sounded behind me, and I was aggravated to see Jacqueline there and that I had wanted it to be April. “Yeah?” I asked as I dried another plate. I knew better than to hope she was here to apologize.
“I don’t understand you at all, Wesley. We let you here, into our house. We give you a place at our table. We provide for you, and how do you repay us? Your shameful display at dinner—”
“I did nothing wrong,” I said hotly. “I didn’t even get a chance to finish my fucking sentence.”
“You mean your lame excuse to try to back out of the youth mission trip that you so desperately need.”
“You don’t know me at all. You don’t know what I do and don’t need.” I slammed a plate down onto the counter. The sound echoed in the huge kitchen. “You don’t care about me at all. You only care about your precious Walter. Do you even think for yourself anymore? Do you think I’m that bad, or is that Walter talking? You’re so desperate to stay in Walter’s good graces that you’ll do or say anything right? All because you can’t breed for him.”
I had gone too far. I could see it in the way her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. What I didn’t see coming was her hand. She slapped me hard across the face. “I regret bringing you here,” she hissed. Jacqueline turned around and left the room.
Not once did I think she would hit me. After all of her talk about wanting to make things right by me, she went ahead and did that. Slapped me. Right in the face too.
In a haze, I stumbled upstairs. A few of my foster families…they had been really rough. A couple of times, older boys had beaten me nearly to death. Other times, it had been the fathers. Some had been drunk. Some had just been assholes. All of the memories of those dark times came flooding back, as if her slap had knocked over the box I’d put them in. I’d tried to fight back, but I had been too small, too weak. As I got older, I did my best to train and lifted weights when I could. Put on muscle. Didn’t matter if you were held down. Didn’t matter if the guy knocked you out and kept on swinging. I could almost taste blood in my mouth just from the memory of split lips.
My stomach was so nauseous I felt like I was going to be sick. My unwanted trip down memory lane left me wanting to crawl out of my sick. I made my way to my room and barely flopped onto my bed when rushed, frantic knocking sounded on my door.
It sure as hell better not be Jacqueline. No one would blame me for what might happen if it was.
And it sure as hell better not be Walter either. That man had been stay the hell away from me.
The door opened, and April came rushing in. She shut and locked the door. Something wasn’t right. She looked terrified. Her large bathrobe was tied tightly around her. She smelled incredibly good, and I inhaled it deeply. Something in her scent helped to clear my mind and snapped me out of my haze.
Why was she here so late? And in her bathrobe? If she wanted to make out and even go further, I wouldn’t deny her. I’d give in like I shouldn’t have given into Lizzy at the party.
Again, I think of the incredible girl I enjoyed talking and flirting with, the one I saved from those assholes groping her. In a way, she reminded me of April. She’d been fun and funny. I pretended for a moment that she had been April, that it had been the two of us who had kissed and made out, and holy hell, I was so hard right now. I just wanted to rip off her bathrobe, to kiss her, to let my hands wander over her body instead of over her clothes.
But she looked so upset, and she kept opening and closing her mouth without saying anything. Something was definitely wrong.
I wanted to tease her, but I figured that wouldn’t be the best course of option. Instead, I cleared my throat. “What’s up?”
“I…”
“You what?” I couldn’t help smiling.
“I don’t…I can’t…”
“It can’t be that bad.” Had she come here to finish what we started? Did she want to make a move? I sure as hell wouldn’t object to that. “Whatever you want, whatever you need…”
“Please. Please don’t…”
Don’t what? Don’t push? Don’t touch her? Don’t tease her? That last I couldn’t promise. Right now, teasing her and making her blush and squirm were the only things that kept me sane in this insane household. As for touching her, I remembered the feel of her backside against me from the water fountain. Would she enjoy it from behind? Get it together, man!
“Please don’t make fun of me.”
“Why would I make fun of you?”
She wasn’t looking at me, and I wasn’t sure she heard me. “Please. This is really hard for me to do, and I can barely…”
“April.” I stood and walked over to her, close but not too close. “Listen to me. It’s fine. Let me help you.”
She swallowed, her face, neck and ears all red, and she removed the bathrobe.
April was wearing her short PJ shorts and my leather jacket, zipped just past halfway, a tantalizing view of her cleavage visible. I grew even harder at the sight of her. God, she would make the devil horny. Somehow, I managed to keep myself together. Something was obviously wrong, although she looked perfect to me.
“Let me help you,” I repeated.
“I…I just…wanted to try it on, but…”
Was she worried I’d be upset with her for wearing my jacket? Did she think that little of me?
“I personally don’t see a single problem with any of this.” I waved my hand up and down to encompass all of her hotness.
“The zipper’s stuck,” she said in a rush. “I can’t get it off.”
Chapter Fourteen
April
Today was a crazy busy day. After church, I did more college research, making sure no one was around. It wasn’t easy—P and P had a habit of playing around in the living room, and Yvonne kept coming in for various reasons too. I had to quickly click away whenever they came into the room. As much as the thought saddened me, Mom was right. I didn’t know how Dad would handle the news, and until and unless I found another place I wanted to go other than the community college, there wasn’t a reason for him to know about it, since it might create an unnecessary issue. Despite the interruptions, I did find a college I loved and desperately wanted to apply to—Oregon State.
I printed out the application form and sneaked it into my room. I was just hiding it in my school bag when Wes came barging in. He didn’t see the paper, did he? The last thing I needed was for him to gloat or try to hold the application over me as leverage to keep his activities a secret from Dad.
But he didn’t mention it, and we didn’t talk about the party. Did he even remember our kisses, our make out session? Our only make out session. It would never happen again.
We talked about the youth mission trip. He really didn’t want to go, and I felt torn. It might do him good, or it could make hi
m even more dead set against the values my family stood for…or wanted to stand for.
He left for work, and when I made sure the application was secure in my school bag, I headed to the door. That was when I saw it. His leather jacket. The one that made Wes look like a teen god. He’d left it here, on my bed.
I didn’t know what came over me, but I found myself picking it up and hugging it. It smelled like Wes—spices and musk. My cheeks burned, and I tossed it back onto my bed. I had chores to do.
First up, dusting the first floor. I didn’t mind dusting that much. It was simple enough to do, and I could let my mind wander. And boy did it wander. I couldn’t stop thinking about Wes and the kisses we shared. Did he remember me at all? Of course not. He’d been blitzed. There was no way he wouldn’t have said something if he did remember.