Page 33 of Steers and Stowaways
Tucker took it. “Now’s your chance to give me anything else you could use to harm Mallory. You’re not gonna like it if I have to shake you down myself.”
Chip shook his head vehemently. “That’s it, sir. I promise.”
Not looking wholly convinced, Tucker wordlessly backed toward the door.
“What about my sick steer?” Mallory bleated before he disappeared.
“He’ll be with me.” Tucker left the room and snapped the door shut behind him.
The moment the lock clicked into place, Chip dissolved. “I’m sorry, Mallory. For everything,” he babbled. “You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt.”
“It’s okay.” As bad as things looked for his family as a whole, she still believed in his innocence. She spread a blanket on the floor and lowered herself onto it.
“It’s not okay.” Chip watched her remorsefully. “Nothing has been okay since…” He stopped and blew out a breath.
She sensed he was holding something back—something he desperately wanted to talk about, but was afraid to.
She patted the spot beside her. “Let’s talk about something else.”
He slowly took a seat, giving her a wary look. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, trying to think of something that would put him at ease. “Tell me about high school. What was your favorite class? Did you play any sports?”
“Favorite class was computers. I don’t do sports.” He stretched out his lanky legs, crossed them, and leaned back on his arms.
Computers.That would explain why he was forever hanging around the computer his mother did the bookkeeping on.
“No sports, huh?” She leaned his way to bump shoulders with him. “I sorta had you pegged for a tennis player.”
He made a pfft sound. “If that’s your way of saying I’m too skinny for football…”
A chuckle skidded out of her. “From one skinny person to another, I feel your pain.”
He relaxed in slow degrees. “I didn’t graduate,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened. “Aw, come on, Chip! You’re too smart to drop out.”
He glanced away from her. “We move a lot.”
Ah. She was forming a mental picture about his home life, and it wasn’t a good one. “What if you could stop moving?” She wasn’t sure what made her ask. “Would you finish high school then?”
He shrugged. “I’m almost nineteen. I’m too old for high school.”
“You could get your GED.” It didn’t sound as fancy as a diploma, but it would get him where he needed to go. He was definitely college material.
“What for?” he grumbled. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna get to…” Like they had before, his words dwindled into silence.
“Listen, Chip.” She swung impulsively in his direction. “I’m sorry you’ve had to move a lot. Sorry you didn’t get to graduate from high school. Sorry that you’re in so much danger you felt the need to hide under a pile of filthy straw. I truly am.”
He kept his gaze on his boots. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” She snorted at the title. He was a mere seven years younger than her.
“You write my paychecks,” he reminded.
There was that. “Feels like writing paychecks to a pesky younger brother.”
“Thanks, I think.” A hint of a smile quirked his dry, cracked lips. Then it was gone.
