Page 7 of Stray

“Of course you do. You’re just as much a pain in the ass as him.” I slap my hand over my chest and push my lip out.

“Morris!” I squeak out. “Don’t flirt with me like that. You’re a married man.” He rolls his eyes before moving his tray back.

“What happened to you?” His question takes me by surprise. Raising a brow, I give him a playful smirk.

“Lack of attentive parents, a failing public school system, a hard time not giving in to peer pressure…” He waves his hand dismissively.

“You know what I’m talking about,” his shaky hand goes to his neck, and I feel my stomach twist. “You don’t have to tell me.” He says in a soft tone that I’m not comfortable with. I feel the tightness in my throat as I stare at his television. Morris, sensing my discomfort, grunts while staring at me.

“You’d be halfway decent looking without that god-awful face paint on.” I crack up at his comment while crossing my arms and turning to look at him.

“You’d be halfway decent looking if not for that giant stick up your ass.” He snickers, resting his head back against his pillow. “So, is it hereditary?” I ask quietly.

“What’s that?”

“The stick up the ass. Because Jackson,” I blow a puff of air out dramatically. “That man is as stiff as they come.”

“Ah, yes, Jackson. My reliable, by-the-book son. Very black and white. He has a code, and he follows it to a tee. He’s a good man, but yeah, definitely a stick wedged firmly up there.”

“Can’t believe none of your kids are married or have kids,” I mutter while shoving the tray closer to him with my tattooed foot.

“Derek, my oldest boy, was married, but it ended terribly.” Morris shakes his head, and I watch him take a chip and eat it. “That girl broke his heart. The other boys were there when the fight happened, and I think it scared Jackson and Carter. Carter became the casual man he is now, and Jackson, well, that boy wasn’t built for casual anything. He’s loyal and honest, and it’s a shame he can’t find someone to see past his tough exterior to see the good man he is.” Morris chews absently on a bite of the sandwich, and I smile softly. It’s the first real food I’ve gotten him to eat. He’s not on any restricted diet, as he’s at the end stage, and the medication he takes is just to keep him comfortable. It’s his depression that’s been causing him not to eat or drink, at least until now.

“And Jensen?” I ask, wanting to keep him talking.

“Jensen was engaged about… shit, I think, five years ago. Dorothy would know better. But that girl wasn’t any good. Jensen is a shy, quiet boy. If you ask me, he’s a little too sensitive for ranch life, but his brothers protect him. Briana, his ex, was terrible for him, dragging him to clubs and bars when he couldn’t handle it—constantly fighting with him, asking for money. It was terrible. She and the boys’ sister got into a terrible fight, and Briana left town. I was so happy when they split, but he never tried again, which is a shame because I know that pretty redhead at the bar has been looking at him with hearts in her eyes for years.”

“Fuckin’ bitches,” I joke, causing him to laugh loudly while shaking his head.

“You’re a foul-mouthed girl.”

“You’re a crotchety old man,” I snap back with a smirk on my face before we fall into a comfortable silence watching his shows.

* * *

Getting out of the shower and slipping on my shorts and tank top, I walk through the bathroom and into the sitting room, avoiding the large window. I secure the sheets I tacked up in the entryway before crawling into my little cocoon on the couch and turning the television on. I hate this room. I hate that window. I hate that things creak here more than on the other side of the house. And I hate that no one else is over here.

My tired thoughts go to Leroy’s scarred neck—the hairless ring from the chain the Rowe’s ex-employee used on that little guy. My fingers trail over my full floral neck tattoo, and I cringe each time I hit a scar.

“Bad Brumby!”

“Stupid bitch, get on your knees.”

“Now bend over and stare out the window. I want you to see how close you are to your freedom as I fuck your cunt into submission.”

“I’m going to ruin you for all other men, Brumby. Now beg me for more!”

“Stop it!” I scream out loud, pulling myself from the darkness I fell into. I don’t know how long I was lost in the memory. I look at my phone, noting it’s four in the morning. I’ve been touching my scars and hearing their voices for hours. I can’t be in this room anymore. Standing up, I slip on my sneakers and put on a sports bra and jacket before walking out of the room, down the steps, and out the door.

As soon as the air hits my body, I feel slightly calmer.

“Hey.”

“What the fuck!” I scream at Jackson’s voice while tripping on the step on the porch and falling, skinning my knee in the process.

“Shit, Ozzy, I’m sorry.” He says as he rushes over to me. “I was trying to let you know I was here so I didn’t scare you.”

“Well, good job,” I bite out as I pull my phone out and turn the flashlight on. My knee has a little scratch right on my bee tattoo. “You scratched Bee-Yonce. Not cool, man.”

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