Hunter dragged his eyes back to his grandfather.
The man gestured to the table. “You think it’s appropriate for a fifteen-year-old boy to have access to these kinds of weapons?”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Don’t get smart with me, kid.”
Hunter gritted his teeth. “I’m not getting smart. I drove here, for god’s sake—”
“Cut the attitude.” His grandfather was suddenly on his feet. “You’re this close to being on the street.”
Hunter was so sick of the empty threats. Especially today. He moved to brush past him, to go to his room, to burrow under the covers until he had to wake up and start another day.
His grandfather grabbed his arm. “Don’t you walk out of here. You’ve got friends breaking in here at all hours of the night, you’re in trouble at school for roughing up your girlfriend, and now we find weapons in your bedroom.”
So Vickers had called the house. Great.
Hunter kept his voice even. “Let me go.”
“You’re not walking out of here until you apologize to your mother.”
Hunter looked at his mom again, wondering how she’d turned into this unraveled mess of a woman who had to be held together by her parents.
He didn’t even know what he was supposed to be apologizing for, but she was looking at him for the first time in days, and the disappointment there was more painful than anything his grandfather could say.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Her eyes filled and she swiped at them quickly.
Hunter swallowed—but then his grandfather shook him. “You’re selfish, putting her through this stress when she’s already going through a difficult time.”
Hunter felt guilty and resentful all at once. He couldn’t look at his mother anymore, but he didn’t want to look at his grandfather, either. “Just let me go.”
“You’re not staying under this roof until you tell us what you’re going to change.”
“Fine. I’ll sleep in the car.”
His grandfather let him go with enough of a shove to make Hunter fall back a step. “Good,” he said. “You’re already packed.”
Whoa.
Wait.
“What are you talking about?”
His grandfather pointed. “Come back with a new attitude.”
Hunter looked. Two duffel bags—his duffel bags—were by the baker’s rack, stuffed full of what looked like clothes.
He couldn’t breathe. It felt like he’d swallowed hot tar.
He glanced at his mother. She wouldn’t look at him now.
“You’re throwing me out?” His voice almost cracked and he didn’t care.
“You’re not going to break the law and live here,” said his grandfather.
“I’m not breaking the law!”
“Something is going on with you, boy, and I’m sick of it. Do you understand me? I don’t know how your father raised you—”
“Don’t.” Hunter had to take a deep breath, and it shook. “Don’t you talk about my father.”
“What do you think he’d say about you hitting women?”
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like, then?”
Hunter almost couldn’t speak through the tightness in his chest. “It’s—it’s a misunderstanding.”
“Is this a misunderstanding?” His grandfather hit him.
The blow snapped Hunter’s head to the side. He’d seen it coming, but his brain couldn’t quite believe it, so he didn’t make a move to defend himself.
It hurt.
He’d been hit before, but there was something different about it coming from his grandfather, as if their history—not all of it bad—was loaded into that backhand slap.
Hunter sucked in a breath through his teeth. His mother’s hand was over her mouth, but she hadn’t said a word.
“You want to hit someone,” said his grandfather, “you pick on someone your own size.” His grandfather hit him again, an open hand slap this time. “How’s this feel?”
Hunter forced his hands to stay at his sides, but he couldn’t keep them from curling into fists. “Stop it.”
“Stop it? Can’t take it? Did she ask you to stop?”
Casper barked.
“It wasn’t—I didn’t—” Another hit, and Hunter flung up an arm to protect his face, but it didn’t help. His grandfather wasn’t being gentle. These were full hits with strength behind them.
An adult had never come after him this way. His eyes were burning, more fury than tears. Anger lay coiled in his chest, ready to spring free and slam his grandfather to the ground, but Hunter was having trouble fighting through this layer of bewilderment and disbelief.
His grandfather was hitting him. Hitting him.
And his mother was letting it happen.
Then his grandfather caught him on the cheek, a sharp hit that stung. Hunter shoved him back. His breathing was loud in the sudden silence.
He had to get out of here. Hunter turned, hunching his shoulders, keeping his hands tight at his sides.
His grandfather grabbed his arm, and it was like pulling a trigger. Hunter whirled and struck.
The man wasn’t ready for it—or maybe he just didn’t expect Hunter to hit back. His grandfather hit the counter and fell.
His grandmother cried out. Casper was barking, bouncing on his hind legs, waiting for Hunter to give some direction.
His mother was crying again. “Hunter, stop.”
As if he’d started this.
You made your bed, kid. Now you lie in it.
Maybe he had started this. His breathing was too fast.
His grandfather was struggling to his feet. There was blood and a murderous expression on his face.
Hunter had no idea how to fix this. And all he could think about was his father’s final lesson, how he’d had the opportunity to employ lethal force, and he’d failed.
Just like he’d failed with Calla.
His thoughts were spinning in a dangerous direction, and he couldn’t rein them in. He needed to get out of here, before he did something he couldn’t undo.
You already did something you can’t undo.
Then his grandfather was coming after him again.
Hunter ran. He was through the front door before registering that he’d grabbed one of the bags by the door, and then his jeep tires were spinning gravel from the driveway. Casper was in the back, his head hanging between the seats, his tongue rasping against Hunter’s cheek.
Hunter brushed him away and yanked the wheel to pull onto the main roadway. His heartbeat was a roar in his ears, his lungs grabbing for breath. He needed to slow down. He needed to get hold of himself.
He drove to Quiet Waters, the only county park he knew. He’d come here once before, with Becca. It felt like a lifetime ago.
Kids were attacking the playground