Page 10 of Bad for You

I’m afraid if Father Merry finds us together, the same fate will befall Lenny. And I don’t want that for him. I want to save him just as he saved me.

He pauses from mopping and tilts his head to the side, examining me closely.

I shuffle my feet nervously.

“Why not?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” I counter, using his words back at him.

He laughs. “Touché. You’ve got guts. Use it on whoever gave you this.” He reaches out and brushes back a piece of hair, touching the wound at my temple.

His touch is foreign as it’s filled with kindness. It’s the first time I’ve experienced such compassion.

“I’m not brave.”

He gently cups my cheek, those beautiful eyes penetrating right through me. “You can be whatever you want to be. You just have to believe it.”

A tear slides down my cheek, but I quickly wipe it away, embarrassed. “Where are your parents?”

“Dead,” he replies calmly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They deserved it. I’ve bounced from foster home to foster home, but once they got sick of me escaping, they sent me here—to hell. I need to get out of here. I need to find my brother. They separated us, which is why I kept escaping.”

“You were trying to find him?”

He nods, his jaw clenched.

I don’t know what it is about Lenny, but he touches something inside me. He makes me feel…worthy.

“I want to help.”

“See, there she is, my brave Valentina. You don’t even know me, and you want to help. I could be a serial killer for all you know.”

“No, that was my dad,” I reveal, and when Lenny sees I’m serious, his mouth drops open. “His name was Patrick O’Loughlin.”

“Damn,” Lenny says, shaking his head in awe. “And I thought my dad was an asshole.”

I don’t know what to say, so I do what feels natural—I laugh.

Lenny looks at me before he too joins in with the laughter. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

“Neither are you,” I reply, smiling broadly—another first.

He seems to grow quiet when our laughter dies, as if listening for something I don’t hear. “I’ll finish up here.”

I don’t want to go and wonder if maybe I said something wrong. But when I hear the voices of approaching sisters, I realize he doesn’t want me to be roped into doing any more chores for the day.

He rests the mop handle in the crook of his armpit so he can reach for both of my calloused hands. He turns them over, and a look of anger slashes across his face. “Go.”

It’s not a suggestion but rather an order.

I leave him watching me protectively, and only when I am out of sight do I hear the mop swish against the linoleum.

The moment the pull-down steps whine, hinting someone is coming up, I roll onto my side. I hope if I fake sleep, Father Merry will go away.

His footsteps creak across the wooden flooring, each step sending my heart into overdrive. I can smell the liquor on his breath as he leans down and kisses the top of my head.

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