Page 26 of Forever Always

“What the fuck!” I jumped outta the way before Dad fell to the floor with a big thud.

It took him a second to figure out what happened, but then he saw me and the rage took over. I skipped back a few steps, away from Riley. He was still where I told him to stay, clutching his backpack and just waiting. He was used to this.

Dad lunged toward me but was still too out of it and ended up landing face first on the carpet. “Get back here, you little shithead!”

I squatted, careful to stay out of reach, and shoved the paper in his face.

He stopped grabbing for me and snatched it out of my hand. “What the fuck is this?”

“We’re getting kicked out, Michael,” I snapped, knowing how much he hated when I called him by his first name but not caring at all.

He glared at me with his beady, bloodshot eyes. “They can’t fucking do that.”

“They can when you spend rent money on booze and drugs. What’re you gonna do about it?”

We’d moved out of the house we’d lived in with Mom just a month after she died. That was also the last time we saw Aunt Tessa, Mrs. Walsh, and basically any adult who’d tried to help that first really awful month. It had been just me to look after Riley since then and to make sure Dad didn’t drown in his own puke, though sometimes I just wished he would.

This was the third apartment in two years, and each one just got shittier and shittier. I didn’t know what we were gonna do now. I’d already begged a few extra months out of the landlord, but I knew he wouldn’t give us anymore time.

Dad slowly forced himself to his feet, stumbling as he did. He ripped the paper into shreds before throwing it in my face. I stood there, surrounded by scraps as he shouldered past me. He stopped moving, glaring at Riley. I didn’t think Dad liked either of us much, but he really hated Riley even though the kid did his best to stay quiet and outta his way.

I knew the moment he changed paths from the kitchen to the front door. “Shoulda just let them take you to the group home,” he snapped as he stalked to my brother. “Just taking everything from me and leaving me with nothing. A greedy whore like your mother.”

Riley didn’t move, didn’t even speak. He just stood there and held his backpack, staring at Dad with big, wet eyes. He didn’t flinch at the words or at the man barreling toward him. He’d heard way worse.

No way was I letting the asshole touch Riley. I moved fast and got there just in time for his fist to glance across my cheek. A closed fist? What the hell was wrong with him? That coulda broken Riley’s jaw.

I stumbled back. Even though most of the blow missed me, it still hurt. But I stayed on my feet and blocked Riley, prepared for another hit. It didn’t come. Dad just shook his head and muttered something like “fucking disgusting” under his breath.

I didn’t move just in case, blocking Riley as he stumbled into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

It was empty, except for two cans of beer. He took one before walking back out, popping it open, and lying back down on the couch like none of it happened.

My eyes burned, but no tears came. It was fine. I shoulda known I’d get no help from him. I turned to face Riley where he stood frozen, just waiting. The tears that filled his eyes were streaking down his face now, but he still wasn’t making a sound. His little hand reached out and lightly touched the mark on my face from Dad’s hit. I forced a smile and took his hand, letting him know it was okay. I grabbed his backpack. “Come on, Ri, let’s go to our room and I’ll help you with homework before we find something to eat.” Hopefully.

“Beckett, are we gonna have to move again?” Neither of us mentioned the rest of this shitshow afternoon. Why would we? It was a typical Tuesday.

I messed with his soft brown hair, smiling as he scowled at me. “Don’t worry about that yet. We’ll be okay.”

He nodded but he was still worried. He was so smart, way too observant for a first grader.

I shooed him into our bedroom, locked the door, and then pushed the dresser in front of it because the lock sucked. All I could think about was what to do next. I needed help, but there was only one person I could ask.

We’d lost all track of every other adult in our life. Except one. Mr. Chase, the counselor Mom took Ri and me to when she was still alive. I’d found his number on an old bill when we were packing up once and kept it. Every time we’d moved, I’d kept that number just in case. I had no idea if he could help, but I had to try for Riley’s sake.

My eyes flew open. Something was around my body, holding me down. I kicked and twisted. I had to fight, had to get out . . .

“Beckett. Beckett! It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

That voice. I knew that voice. It meant safety.

“Please, Becks, come back to me. You’re safe. You’re with me and you’re safe.”

“Butterfly?” My voice was hoarse and my throat burned like I’d been screaming.

“Yeah, it’s Riley. Your butterfly.” Suddenly, there was a heavier weight on me, but this time I didn’t fight it. This weight was perfect, everything I needed.

I didn’t have panic attacks like this often anymore, but Riley still knew what to do. I allowed him to push me back down to a lying position as he lay directly on top of me, all his weight pushed into me like a human weighted blanket. I shouldn’t be able to breathe easier with 140 pounds of man on top of me, but I did. I really fucking did.

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