Page 106 of The Boy from Half Moon

I didn’t want to ask the question that came next, dreading his answer, fearful I wouldn’t survive it, but I did. “Franklin,” I murmured. “Franklin hurt you too, didn’t he?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“David,” I soothed, scooting forward. “It does matter. I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” he declared. “Not anymore.”

He moved his free hand to the floor, joining the one outlining his hiding place, using both hands to lift the secret hatch. I watched in horror as he pulled a bloody piece of clothing from within. The fabric was stiff with dried blood, the color of the blood rust, not red like fresh blood.

My blood ran cold when I realized what I was seeing. “Is that Ma’s dress?”

He held the dress in the air, staring at me as though he dared me to ask more questions. I had one question but couldn’t voice it. David’s face was blank and impossible to read. But if you looked closely at the corner of his mouth, there was a sneer.

“Ma did both of us a favor,” he said, dropping the dress into the hole and letting the wooden cover slam back into place with a thud. His eyes leveled directly on mine.

“What did Ma do, David?”

“Let’s just say I’m not afraid anymore, big brother.”

EPILOGUE: Luke

Five Years Later

“Come down from there, stud,” Tate hollered, turning toward me after closing the barbeque lid. “Hot dogs are almost done.”

I stood, careful not to get twisted up in the nail gun’s cord. “Not the hot dog I’m hungry for, love,” I yelled back.

“Spoken like a true outsider,” he stated.

After climbing down from the incomplete roof, I joined Tate near the RV we’d purchased. The trailer was for us to live in temporarily while we built our new home. And by temporary, I meant we’d already lived in it for two-plus years. We’d rented out the loft in town, choosing to live next door to our latest project to save money.

I’d completed my apprenticeship as a carpenter and was now a card-carrying union member at a construction company in Bend. After Tate and I purchased the riverfront lot we’d had our first kiss at, we saved for another year and began building a new home.

Tate slid his hand into the back of my shorts and moved it down to cup my butt cheek. “God, I love your ass.”

“God and ass in one sentence?” I teased. “Two more bucks in the jar, mister.”

I kissed the top of his head, and we turned to study the house. “I like the shingle colors,” he said. “What’s next? Can we move in yet?”

“If you don’t want walls in your house, we can.”

“You promised me,” Tate whined. “I want a proper kitchen, right now.”

I moved an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “Admit it, you’ll miss the dining room bed,” I joked. Our bed in the trailer was also our dining table. “Besides, I’m six-four, so what are you complaining about?”

“I’m ready for an actual bed, my love.”

“Sounds like another complaint, mister,” I pointed out. “Besides, aren’t I taking care of you in the trailer’s bed?”

Tate cozied up to me, kissing the bottom of my chin when I turned away like I was pouting. “Oh, trust me, stud. There is no complaint in that department.”

“Six more months, love,” I promised. “We have David all summer while he’s on college break,” I added. “Him and I together? We’re gonna get the job done.”

David and I didn’t speak for three years after the day in the treehouse. Not because of what I’d learned that day, but more because he remained angry at me for so long. As I’d feared, he’d been assaulted by Franklin, right under my nose, and he blamed me for the abuse. In his words, I should’ve protected him.

And then, two and half years ago, out of the blue, he called, crying, asking if he could live with me and Tate. We welcomed him into our home, and he started high school locally. He was advanced because of homeschooling, so after testing him, he completed his senior year of high school and had just finished his first year at community college.

David attended counseling with me, and we managed to find our path back to each other, understanding that we had both been victims and weren’t laying blame on anyone other than Franklin.

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