Page 62 of Fractured Souls
“A birdhouse?”
He shrugs. “I like making homes for them. It has purpose, and keeps me busy.”
A burn ignites inside me. I need to leave. “Maybe sometime.”
He nods, knowing what we both do—that won’t happen. I only come here when the guilt gets too much, and I never stay longer than I need to. Being here kills my soul, and I want to learn to leave the guilt behind. I’d like to have a relationship with him, but it’s all too much. I can’t get past all the pain he’s put me through. He didn’t love me enough then to be the father I needed; he doesn’t get to decide to be a father now. “Take care.”
“Bye, son.” Again I wait, for what I don’t know. When I realize that’s all he’s going to say, I start walking upstairs.
“Bye.”
When I was eight, my father locked me in my room for two days. Luckily I had a bathroom attached to it, but for two days straight I didn’t eat. I was grounded for something, and the only thing I had was the water from the bathroom sink. Part of me thinks he forgot about me. I had to get out of my room. I was going crazy alone. He left me with no nightlight, and I only fell asleep once I cried myself to exhaustion.
On day three I escaped out my window.
I tripped on the windowsill climbing out and fell flat on my back, knocking the wind out of me. When I finally got up, I ran to the park—it was easy to get to—and I stayed most of the day. Finally, as the sun set, someone came for me.
It wasn’t my father, or my mother.
It was Bo.
Tiny, with fury etched on his face. I remember it like it was yesterday. He’d walked from his house to ask me if I wanted to sleep over, and my mother had said I was grounded for a few days. Bo knew when I was grounded I was locked away in my room. Once, I’d asked him if his parents did the same thing. They did ground him, but his punishments weren’t nearly as severe as mine. No TV for the night. Extra chores. Things like that.
He saw my open window and went to find me, and he knew when he couldn’t get a hold of me I’d run here. I always knew he’d find me eventually.
It’s why I’m not surprised to see Bo swinging softly against the setting sun. My feet crunch on the wood chips, and he lifts his head, not smiling. “How did you know?”
Bo drags his foot across the chips, gently rocking himself back and forth. “I saw your location.”
“Stalker,” I laugh.
He doesn’t. “I went to text you and accidentally hit your location. Then I saw where you were.” He sways back and forth. “Figured you needed a friend.”
I’ve always needed him. “Tire swing?” Bo nods, getting off his swing and walking to the tire swing. I get in first on one side, and then let him get on by swinging his legs over mine on the other. The tire swing is much smaller now than when we were kids. Back then we were further apart, on our own ends. Now we take up the entire swing. With his legs over mine we’re so close.
I lean back, getting us moving a bit with the motion.
“Why?”
Fuck if I know. Why do I do anything? Especially lately. “I think I keep waiting for the moment I walk into that house and don’t relive everything he’s done to me.” I shrug. “Maybe next time.”
Instead of judging me, Bo takes one of my hands and holds it in his. His other is holding on to the chain. “I’m sorry.”
“I make a mess of everything.” That makes his brows pinch. “Not us, though, right?”
“Before or after you made me come this morning?”
“Bobo.” I love the laugh that comes out of him. “Mean.” I sigh. “My head’s a mess. I don’t understand any of it.” With Max it was awkward and weird, but this morning Bo had me desperate for more. The way he squeezed my fingers was only a taste of what he’d feel like squeezing my cock. “With Max . . . I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he was a stranger.”
“So you’ve never had one-night stands with women?” Heat sprinkles across my cheeks, and I can’t meet his eyes. “Thought so.”
“I don’t know.” I look at at him and an idea comes to mind. It’s bad, but it seems that’s the only kind I have lately. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I mean, you like what I did this morning, right? I uh, I mean . . . fingering, for a guy, does it feel good?”
Bo blinks at me before he smirks. “It was terrible.” He smiles. “Never do it again. I hated it.”
