Page 11 of Cage Me

“Well, how about we bury him, but we don’t mark the grave,” I suggest, then gesture toward the trees. “The grass will grow over and nobody will ever know he’s there except us.”

The boy stares where I’d just pointed and seems to thoroughly consider my words. “That might be good. For nobody to know he’s there. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

My hand cups the boy’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

And I mean the words sincerely. Even if Spencer forced a rejection on me, allowing this boy to suffer for defending himself isn’t something I’d stand for.

Not when I know what it feels like to be forsaken by a parent.

“You’re a nice man,” Peter says, a frown forming between his blue eyes. “I don’t know why Pence doesn’t like you.”

A deep chuckle escapes me. “It’s complicated.”

“Adult stuff always is.” He points to the corner of the house. “There should be a shovel over there somewhere.”

“Thanks.” I get up and head that way. When I see the garden tools piled up on the ground, I turn back to check on the boy and he’s poking around his father’s body. That has me grabbing the shovel and hurrying toward him, but by the time I’m back, Peter is standing up again.

“What were you doing?” I ask him, keeping my tone light.

“Taking anything that we might be able to trade,” he says. “Pence is going to want to run. That’s always been the plan.”

Hmm. Good to know. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on her.

“Do you want to pick where I dig the hole or want me to do it?” I ask, knowing that Peter deserves a chance to make this as right as possible in his mind.

His eyes go wide. “I can help?”

“Of course you can,” I tell him. “I’ll even show you how to use a shovel if you want.”

It’s been hundreds of years since I’ve picked one up, but I’m pretty sure I still remember.

He frowns, then looks at the ground instead of me. “I’ve never been allowed to touch Dad’s stuff.”

I bump his chin up lightly. “Well, that’s the fun part about starting over. You get to make new rules. And I think you learning how to use any tool that you want should be one of them.”

He nods, but there are still tears shining in his eyes. Instead of continuing to talk next to the corpse of his father, I grab his shoulder and direct him toward the trees beyond the yard. “Where should we dig?”

He looks around, seeming to inspect each one carefully before pointing between two large oaks. “Right there. In the fall, the ground is covered with leaves from the trees and it’s really fun to play in. Maybe Dad will like that in his next life.”

Poor fucking kid.

“You got it.” I hold the shovel and gesture toward the metal spade. “See these flat spots?” He nods. “That’s where you put pressure at with your foot. Watch me.”

The tip of the shovel goes smoothly into the earth, and I slam my boot down on the spot I just showed him. The ground lifts as I pull the handle back at the same time and then I toss it to the side, but the dirt falls nowhere near where I was intending it to.

I guess I still have a bit to relearn as well.

“That looks kind of fun,” Peter says, and I hand him the tool.

“Give it a try.”

His little hands wrap around the wooden handle as he lifts the shovel up and down, almost like he’s testing its weight. “I’m not?—”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Spencer’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and furious.

Peter promptly drops the shovel and spins toward his sister. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not in trouble,” I tell him softly. “I think I am.”

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