Page 37 of Guitars and Cages

He shook his head. Great, so much for begging.

“I can’t go back to my apartment right now; trust me when I say it would be bad.”

“Thought you said your friend hadn’t hurt you.”

“He didn’t, but he prolly will when I go back. So I’m gonna sit here until he leaves, okay? I’m sure as soon as it starts getting dark he’ll go home, and then I can go back.”

“Then I’ll sit here with you.”

“Goddamn! Stubborn much?”

“That’s what my mom always says.”

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but it failed. Time to try another tactic to make him go away. “Look, Conner, thanks; I get that you’re trying to help, but I don’t want it. Please leave me alone.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You got through a whole sentence without cussing me out.”

I sighed, his persistence wearing on me.

“So why is he gonna hurt you when you go back?”

The image of that stupid, needy, desperate kiss flashed through my head. I shook it away, refusing to admit to it. I opened my mouth to tell him it was none of his business when old habits kicked in, and my brain found a lie that might solve the problem of getting him to leave.

“Morgan came over for a visit and found bruises on the kid.”

“Who, your nephew?”

“Yeah. He asked me what happened, so I told him, and then I took off before he could beat the hell outta me.”

“And why would he beat the hell outta you?”

I could hear the curiosity in his voice, and for a moment I was reminded that I liked talking to him, and I almost didn’t tell him the lie that was forming in my head, but I said it anyway.

“’Cause I’m the one who put the bruises there. I’m the one who hit him.”

He inhaled sharply, and I felt him move away from me, stand and loom over me, his shadow blocking out what little was left of the sun.

“You beat a kid?” he hissed, his voice seething with fury.

I lifted my head, tried to meet his eyes, opened my mouth, and forced myself to lie again. “Yeah, I did, and what of it?” I growled, hoping for his hate, needing it.

“You pathetic fucking coward,” he snarled. “I should beat the hell out of you myself.”

“Then do it, or fuck off.”

He took a step toward me. I sat there and waited for the blow to come. It never did; he just turned and walked away from me, leaving me to sit in silent misery beside the trash.

Chapter Fifteen

Ilost track of how long I sat in the alley, my head spinning from smacking it against the wall. I’d done it once more since Conner had left and I’d been seeing stars ever since. I’d been feeling queasy, too. At one point I’d tried to get up, but everything had sort of tilted on its axis and slid and I’d ended up back on the ground again, curled tight against the wall. I think I fell asleep, or passed out; either way, I woke up to someone nudging me with their boot, and I opened my eyes to a shadow.

“You lied to Conner. Don’t even think about pulling that shit on me.”

I blinked, trying to focus, because the voice was somewhat familiar but it was hard to pinpoint around the furious buzzing in my head. Hands gripped my arms, hauling me into a more upright position and scooting me over before leaning me against the wall, all while I was still trying to figure out who was there. He sat down next me against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, nudging me a bit. I turned my head, blinked, and suddenly I realized who it was.