Page 48 of The Evening Wolves

“Talk to my son like that again, and I’ll do more than give you a fat lip.”

“You can’t do that!”

For a moment, it looked like John was going to follow up on the punch. Then his shoulders slumped. He rubbed his face and sent Emery a look full of self-recrimination. Turning to Peterson, he said, “That was a mistake.”

Peterson was silent for several long moments. Then he said, “Why don’t you take Colt home?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Drew screamed.

“I’m going to have a conversation with Mr. Klein,” Peterson said. “Explain the pros and cons of pressing charges in a situation like this one. If he decides to press charges, I’ll swing by your house.”

“Of course I want to press charges! He punched me!”

Peterson nodded, but his eyes stayed on John.

John wiped his face again, the movement full of exhaustion, and then he said, “Thanks.”

“I’m going to have your badge for this! You stood there and watched!”

John turned, and Emery steered Colt with him. They walked in silence. The new rubber smell was giving Emery a headache, and he knew he was holding Colt too tightly, his fingers biting into the sensitive flesh of his nape. He managed to relax his fingers by degrees, but he didn’t let go of his son. He couldn’t. Not yet.

When they got in the Mustang, Emery said, “What happened?”

Colt sniffled and wiped his nose with his shirt.

Emery twisted to look over the seat. “I asked you a question.”

Colt’s head came up. He set his jaw, and amber eyes met Emery’s. They were full of tears. But they were full of fire, too.

“Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

Dropping his eyes again, Colt mumbled something.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t care!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me!”

“Ree,” John said, his voice tight. “Not right now.”

Emery wrestled with himself for what felt like a long time. Finally, he managed to nod, and he dropped back against the seat. John started the car, and they drove away from the school.

It was a short drive. In nice weather, the school was close enough to walk to, although now that Colt had the truck, walking was out of the question. Walking was for underclassmen. And now that Emery thought about it, he realized he wasn’t sure if the truck was at school or if Colt had gotten a ride to practice with Ashley. If they’d left it, they’d have to go back later today and get it. No point letting some eager officer ticket it. Although maybe that would be for the best. Maybe they’d tow it, and then Colt could pay the impound lot fee himself, and he could see what life was like without a truck for a month. He could walk to school. Like all those fucking underclassmen.

When John pulled into the garage, Emery realized his husband had been talking during the drive, the tone and cadence suggesting that the words needed no response.

“—ridiculous, really. I mean, that’s what they decided? To trash some old stuff at the school? It’s kind of funny, actually.”

When Emery glanced at his husband, he saw a too bright smile there. It made him think of movies. Of old incandescent bulbs flickering in a power surge, the light fading and rising until all of a sudden, the bulb exploded.

He turned his attention to the back seat again. “You’re going to tell me what happened today.”

Colt glared back at him.

“Do you hear me?”

Colt looked away.

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