Page 57 of Needing Your Love
Everything I had always wanted but couldn’t have.
Worm.
Whore.
Clearing my throat, I took interest in the few, cold fries on my plate and the tomato I’d removed from my burger and left beside the limp pickle.
“Dad said Chief’s a punk,” DJ continued, “but he had too many beers that night. I know he didn’t mean it.”
Ever the faithful son making excuses for his asshole father.
“He talks all sorts of bullshit when he drinks,” DJ continued, and I didn’t bother chiding him for the swear word.
I understood Gram’s reluctance to move to Florida, her concern for DJ not having someone in his corner like she and Sutton had done for me.
If she decided to go—I would stay. Even if my heart shredded every day from having to see the chief while out and about downtown.
The door opened again, letting in a blast of cold air, and I glanced up to find DJ’s dad scowling and scanning the restaurant. His focus landed on our table, and he attempted to walk our way, face growing more thunderous with every step.
I cowered into my seat, eyes locked on the man whose instability suggested he’d been at the bottle, the frown furrowing his brow and red-rimmed eyes promising shit was about to get ugly. The sensation of things moving too quickly slammed into me, but I couldn’t control my brain or body as he stumbled to a stop beside our table, hands fisted at his sides.
“That’smyson!” he slurred, and all I could do was stare up in horror at the man who looked like he wanted to smash my head between his meaty palms.
“Hey, Dad,” DJ said, his voice wary, limbs still for the first time since entering the diner. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you hear me, you fucking fag?” Kurt hissed rather than acknowledge his son, leaning down to get in my face.
My breath exited my lungs in a rush, and I cringed deeper into the booth.
“Dad!” DJ slid off his bench and tugged Kurt’s arm, pulling him upright. “That’s not a nice word! And Jimmy is my friend! I heard Gram on the phone say he’s a good influence on me.”
“Fucking groomer,” Kurt sneered, ignoring his son. “You need to stay thefuckaway from my boy, you hear me? Don’t give a shit what Mom says—you keep your filthy hands off him!” He grabbed hold of DJ’s wrist, and the boy winced.
Adrenaline raced through my blood, causing my heart to palpitate and extremities to tingle. A lack of oxygen made me lightheaded, and I swayed in my seat.
I saw bruising on my arms from harsh fingertips. Felt the sting of a split lip. Heard the ringing from having my ears boxed. Remembered the warm wetness when I peed myself while Dad beat on me.
“Kurt!” Sutton barked, coming to the rescue, but I was too far gone in my panic to appreciate him being a hero like he’d done for me countless times in the past.
A whimper slid across my lips.
Fuck you, Dad. I hope you’re burning in hell.
Chapter 23
Sutton
Irecognized trouble the second Kurt walked into the diner, but Old Man Ron’s daughter Addy stepped in front of me, full tray of food in hand, blocking my view of the entrance. Considering Kurt’s son was sitting with Jimmy, I expected him to head their way.
“Thanks.” I smiled up at Addy as she set my burger in front of me.
“Enjoy, boys!” she chirped at us and headed off to the next table to check if they needed anything.
My gaze shot across the restaurant.
Kurt towered over Jimmy, shoulders bunched, fists hanging low. Anger vibrated off him, and I found myself on my feet as he grasped his son’s wrist in a vice grip.
“Addy, call Mary Walker—tell her to get down here ASAP,” I ordered, moving past her.
