33. Drew

THIRTY-THREE

drew

It had been five minutes, and he hadn't answered me.

I would have left as soon as he texted me because for him to ask me to get his brother—I had no idea why he hadn't asked Nora, or Wolf, or even Hendrix, but I knew how important Arlo was to Bellamy. He wouldn't ask if he wasn't desperate—but I couldn't find where my dad had hidden the car keys. I tried to call Nora, but she didn't pick up.

So, I ended up walking to the Jet Pep across from the subdivision and catching the bus before walking two blocks to Bellamy's house.

As soon as I rounded the street corner, the red and blue flashing lights came into view, and I panicked. I had no idea what went on in Bellamy's house, but whatever it was, I knew it was bad enough that Nora had to watch Arlo when Bellamy went to jail.

He didn't trust his dad with Arlo...and he texted me to please come to get him. And now the cops were there…I took off down the street, rushing past the patrol cars in his drive, and stopping when I saw the broken window in the front.

I had never been in any situation like this and had no idea what to do. Was I supposed to knock on the door or not?

I went up the steps, unable to ignore the small spots of what looked to be blood on the concrete. Then I knocked on the door, my heart banging in my chest.

It swung open to a middle-aged police officer. "Drew Morgan?"

"Yeah."

He stepped outside and quietly closed the door. Then he placed a hand on my shoulder and moved me a few feet away from the entrance. "Once you get the kid in the car, go ahead and leave. He's seen enough, and I really don't want him to see his brother carted out in cuffs."

In cuffs? Bellamy was being arrested…

"Ma'am? Did you hear me?"

"I don't...I don't have a car. I took the bus here."

"Shit…" He turned his face to the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. A beep sounded. "Can you send back-up? I need to escort a young lady and a child home."

"Ten-four, Robins."

I stared back at the flashing lights. What in the hell was going on?

"I'll take you home," the officer said. "You don't need to be walking around these streets at this time of night."

Part of me didn't want to ask, but... "What happened?"

"Domestic dispute." He glanced back at the door. "The mom got it pretty bad, but I think she'll be all right. And if I'm being honest, Dan got what he deserved."

Static crackled over his radio. And from that snippet of information, I gathered Bellamy had beaten his dad, probably for hitting his mom. Yet, he was the one being arrested. Anger coursed through me as I thought of Bellamy being taken to jail for defending his mom. It was wrong.

"Five minutes, Robins." The officer nodded before walking back inside.

I waited outside on the step, staring at the broken glass on the driveway while a crippling sense of pity for Bellamy and his brother surged through me.

Eventually, another patrol car pulled onto the street, and Officer Robins walked out with Arlo, his face tear-stained and red, and a ratty backpack slung over his shoulders.

He sniffled when he looked up at me. "Hey, Miss Drew."

My chest squeezed when I placed my hand on his little head. "Hey, Arlo."

The cop opened the car door, and I followed Arlo into the back seat.

I really hoped my dad wasn't home to see a cop car pull up in the drive, but even if he were, surely to God, when he saw Arlo, he just wouldn't say anything.

The engine cranked, and the patrol car pulled away.

Arlo quietly cried, looking out the window at the passing streets of Dayton. He was a child and already conditioned to think this was normal, and that was heartbreaking. Worse, from the little I'd glimpsed of Bellamy with him, I knew he tried hard to give his little brother something better. And instead, he got this.

"Where do you live, Miss Morgan?" The officer asked.

"2112 Barrington Cove."

He rolled to a stop at the four-way.

"Barrington Cove?" He glanced over his shoulder with pinched brows. Like he didn't believe me.

"Yeah. Is...that a problem?"

"There's a bus in Barrington?"

"My father and I are having authoritative differences that involve my lack of a car."

I could only imagine what he must be thinking. A Barrington girl turning up on the bus to get a kid from a domestic dispute.

"He doesn't like the guys I date." That one statement pretty much covered it.

He pressed the gas. "Ah. Okay…"

Silence filled the car, intermittently broken by Arlo's sniffles. I rubbed his back the entire ride through Dayton.

When the patrol car swung into Barrington, the scenery changed entirely. Everything perfect and polished.

Arlo plastered his face to the window. "Are those castles?"

"Not quite."

The officer dropped us off, and thankfully, my dad wasn't back yet.

"Thank you for the ride, officer," I said.

"No problem."

"Do you know when Bellamy will be out?" I asked.

When , not if, because surely, they wouldn't keep a kid for defending his mom. Then again, I didn't know exactly what had happened.

"Twenty-four hours is typical." He looked at me for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "You have a good evening, miss."

"Thanks."

He drove off, and I herded Arlo toward the front door.

His eyes widened as he walked into the house, sheepishly lingering in the foyer.

What the hell did I do with a small child who had just been through things I couldn't imagine.

"You want a Push-Pop?" I asked. It was all I could think of.

"No. I'm not hungry." His bottom lip poked out, then quivered. "I don't want Bellamy to go to jail, Miss Drew. And I want my momma to be okay."

I didn't know what to do, but the second he started crying, I scooped him up and took him to the couch, holding him while his skinny shoulders shook.

"They'll be okay, Arlo. Your brother loves you. He wouldn't leave you for long." I wrapped him in a blanket, turned on the TV, and changed it from the news to SpongeBob .

After a few minutes, he drew in a heavy breath, then rolled out of my lap and pressed back on the sofa. "This is squishy." He bounced back again, then turned and face-planted the cushion, his troubles temporarily forgotten. "And it smells good. Are you rich, Miss Drew?"

I laughed. "My dad is."

He slowly looked up at me, and his little brows tugged together. "Is he famous?"

"No, he's just an old man who works all the time. You might meet him later." And that would be fun. "When he gets here, we should play a game?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Whatever I say, you have to pretend it's true. Then if you win, you get Push-Pops and another toy. Sound good?"

"Yeah! Another horse with a sword on its head?"

"If that's what you want."

"Yay!" He bounced on the cushions before pulling the blanket to his chin and settling in to watch SpongeBob .

My dad turned up a couple of hours later, stopping in the doorway and frowning when he saw me playing a board game with Arlo. "Drucella, who is that?"

"This is Arlo. Arlo, this is my dad, William."

Arlo shot up and scurried across the hardwoods, stopping abruptly in front of my Dad and giving him a rigid salute. My dad just stood there, staring down at the kid like he was some kind of alien.

"I've never met a rich person before, mister. Do you have a big room with all your money and a diving board you jump off of and swim around in it like Scrooge McDuck?"

I laughed. Hard. The look on my dad's face was priceless.

"No. I do not." Dad's narrowed gaze drifted from Arlo to me. The old man had no sense of humor. "Why is a child here?"

I pushed to my feet. "Peehead, watch TV for a minute. I need to talk to Scrooge McDuck."

Arlo hopped up onto the couch, kicking his feet before I left the room.

Dad followed me to the kitchen.

"You said you wanted me to get a job, so I'm babysitting."

"Babysitting?"

"Yeah. Nora normally looks after him, but she couldn't, so…" If only he knew Arlo was actually the little brother of the Dayton bad boy who I was hot under the collar for. And I was watching him because said bad boy had been arrested—he'd keel over.

Dad leaned against the kitchen island, loosening his tie. "He looks dirty."

"He's a kid. Newsflash, when they aren't raised like little Stepford drones, they play and get dirty."

He started toward the minibar, then stopped. "You're. Babysitting?" Like he was stunned.

"Why is this so hard to believe? Easiest money I've ever made. He eats anything sugary and watches cartoons. He's me in a small person."

With a shake of his head, he grabbed the whiskey and poured half a glass. "Well. Just. Don't let him stain the carpet."

"He's not a puppy." I rolled my eyes and got two Push-Pops from the freezer. Anyone would think the man had never been around a child.

Oh, that was right, he hadn't.

The officer said Bellamy would be in jail for twenty-four hours, and their parents were obviously both in the hospital, which meant Arlo was not leaving. So, I pulled my phone from my pocket and pretended to check it. "Look, his mom just texted and asked if I could have him for the night. She has to work a double shift." The lies fell from my lips so easily, I should probably be ashamed.

"Fine."

"I'll also need to take him to school tomorrow. Please, can I have a car?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Just for tomorrow," I added.

He folded his arms over his chest, suspicion written all over his face.

"I'm trying to be responsible. I can't get him there and myself to school on time without a car. I'll give you the keys back right after school. I promise."

He huffed out a breath, and I knew I had him. Because this might have been the most adult thing I'd ever done in my life, taking care of a kid.

"Right after school."

"Thank you."

"And put a towel on the bed. I don't want him soiling the sheets."

"Jesus. I can't with you."

When I rounded the corner, Arlo was lingering in the hall. He turned and ran off when he saw me.

"Little eavesdropper," I said when I caught up to him in the lounge and tossed him the popsicle.

"Nuh-uh."

"Um, yes." I tickled him, and he squealed, giggling in a way I was sure these stuffy walls had never witnessed.

"What do you want to watch, Peehead? If I have to watch one more episode of SpongeBob, I'm tossing you in the pool."

"You have a pool?"

After fighting with Arlo about the fact that he had no swimming trunks—and I was pretty sure he was lying about being able to swim—we watched a film, and he fell asleep.

I waited until my dad retired to his room to carry Arlo's deadweight up to one of the spare rooms, then tucked him in with the unicorn I'd won him.

The idea that a stupid stuffed toy I had won the kid brought him some joy made me happy. His life was shit, and I hated it for him and Bellamy. Because Bellamy was trying his best, despite crappy circumstances.

And one night with the kid made me realize that this was a lot of responsibility for a teenager.

I dropped Arlo at school the next morning, and the entire day I was on edge, barely able to focus on anything.

I checked my phone between every class, hoping they had let Bellamy go. Partly for my sake, but mostly for Arlo. He was a great kid, and I didn't mind having him, but I could only pull this off with my dad for so long. He needed his brother and some stability.

It wasn't until I was back in the car line alongside all the moms that afternoon that my phone finally beeped with a string of texts from Bellamy.

Dickhead: Just got out.

Dickhead: Thanks for getting him.

Dickhead: On my way to get him from school.

Dickhead: Sorry. I couldn't text until now.

The back door opened, and Arlo clambered in. "Hey, Miss Drew."

"Hey bud, put your belt on, okay?"

"Yeah."

Me: It's okay. I'm here. Peehead just got in the car.

Dickhead: Can you meet me at the park in ten minutes? I'll grab him.

He wanted to meet at a park. That was weird.

Me: Sure

"We're going to the park, Arlo. Your brother's there."

He squealed, and I pulled away, blasting rock music I was totally getting the kid into.

We'd been through half of In This Moment's latest album this morning on the way to school, and he was totally into it. Because it was way better than Bellamy's crappy rap.

As soon as I pulled up to the park, I spotted Bellamy's tall, broad frame slumped at one of the picnic tables, his feet kicked up onto the bench. His hair was messy, and even from here, he looked tired or, perhaps, just defeated.

Arlo jumped out of the car before I'd even cut the engine, and I followed at a distance as he ran up to his brother. "They didn't keep you!" he said, latching onto Bellamy's leg.

"No. Just asked me questions. Did you have fun at Drew's?"

"Yeah. She's rich. And her dad's…" Arlo stuck out his tongue. "Yuck."

A group of screaming kids ran by, catching Arlo's attention before he ran off as I came to a stop at the end of the picnic table.

Bellamy looked at me. The tormented expression that rippled over his face caused a knot in my stomach. "Thanks again for getting him." Bellamy scrubbed over his neck. "Nora's family wasn't there, and I—"

"It's fine, Bellamy. He's a good kid."

He could barely look at me, and I could imagine he felt all kinds of shitty right now.

"You know I could have brought him to your house," I said, gesturing to the park behind us.

"Yeah. The house is still a mess."

I wanted to ask him what had happened and why he was the one who got carted to jail. But I had a feeling he wouldn't tell me anything. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze held mine like he was trying to read me just as hard as I was him.

"Bubba!" Arlo sprinted back over, dust kicking up behind him before he skidded to a stop.

Bellamy kneeled when Arlo reached for his face and attempted to whisper: "There's Tina. See her? In the pink cat shirt? By the big kid swings."

Bellamy glanced toward the swing set, then smiled. "Yeah. You gonna talk to her, Arlo?"

Arlo's eyes grew wide. "No."

"If you like her, you gotta talk to her." The exchange was so cute, my stupid heart hiccupped.

Arlo scuffed his shoes over the pea gravel, his gaze drifting up to me. "Like you're talking to Miss Drew?"

"Yeah." Bellamy snorted a laugh. Then scruffed a hand over the kid's dark hair. "There. Now you look savage. Go tell her she's pretty."

"But...how?"

"I'll show you." Bellamy pushed off the bench, closing in on me in an instant. He grabbed my chin while I stood there, frozen, transfixed. "You're pretty." His thumb brushed across my lip. "Beautiful. Fucking stunning."

Holy shit. It should not have made me melt on the spot, but it absolutely did.

His teeth raked his lip on a smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing. "Just like that," he said, dropping his hand from my face.

I barely noticed Arlo run off.

"You're an asshole," I mumbled.

"Whatever. You liked it."

I watched Arlo skid to a stop in front of the little girl, then grab her chin, just like Bellamy had mine. Whatever the kid said made her cheeks turn pink, then she threw her arms around his neck.

"Little player in the making," Bellamy said, grinning.

"What is he, six?" The fact that I was predestined to lose to boys like this since childhood was disturbing.

"Yeah…"

"He's cute. And even my dad thought he was well behaved, which is more than he says for me, so…" Comes to something when a six-year-old is held in higher esteem than me. "If you need me to watch him again—"

He grabbed my face and dragged me in, slamming his mouth over mine while the screams of children faded into the background. His tongue parted my lips. His thumb grazed my jaw. And just when my lungs felt they might explode, he pulled away.

"You're fucking me up, baby girl." He took a slow step back, that familiar sexy smirk of his settling over his mouth. "Come on, Arlo," he shouted across the playground. "We gotta go."

I felt like I'd just been through a spin cycle as I watched him walk back to his car.

When I got home, I went straight to the freezer for a Push-Pop, noticing the pale-yellow Post-it note stuck to the fridge.

Drucella. Emergency business meeting. Out of town for a few days. My American Express is on the counter. For food ONLY. Do not use the car. I will check the mileage. -Your father

A few days. It was Tuesday. My birthday was this Friday. Despite being a shitty father, he'd always made an effort on my birthday, like that annual act accounted for his yearly parenting quota. He'd be back. Even he wouldn't miss my eighteenth birthday. I took my Push-Pop to the living room and sat on the sofa. In the silence of this massive house, the loneliness that constantly remained on the periphery of my life crept over me.

I tried to call Genevieve, but it went to voicemail, and so that ebbing sense of abandonment dug its claws in further. With no car, I couldn't go see Nora. It was just me. I hated it. Hated this house, this life, my dad...

My phone beeped like Bellamy could sense my turmoil.

Dickhead: I can't get enough of your lips.

My heart stuttered for a split second, and a smile threatened.

Me: Who knew you were romantic?

I knew that comment would annoy him.

Dickhead: I'm not.

Me: Uh-huh

Dickhead: How is my choking you romantic?

Me: I happen to like being choked.

Dickhead: No shit.

Dickhead: Arlo keeps coming in my room, shouting at me to tell you Hi.

That made me smile.

Me: He's cute. Did Peehead get a date?

Dickhead: I took him by the 7-11 for a Slurpee, and he got her a ring out of a gumball machine.

Dickhead: So much for him being a little player...

Me: Aw! That's so cute.

Me: You let him be a nice boy

Dickhead: Nice boys get shit on.

Dickhead: Shat on.

Dickhead: WTF ever you say. Girls take shits on them.

I wasn't sure anymore whether Bellamy was the nice boy or not.

Me: OMG. That's why he thinks I'm pooping on you?!

Dickhead: No. I'm not a nice boy. I'm an asshole

Me: I know.

Dickhead: And you like it.

I hated that I did because if that didn't scream daddy issues, I wasn't sure what did. Bellamy left me caught between wanting something and being terrified of having it.

As I stared at our open message thread, I questioned what the hell I was doing.

We had just over a month left of school, then summer, and then college. And I was falling for a guy who played his cards so close to his chest, I had no idea what I was doing anymore.

Dickhead: This is where you say: Yes, Bellamy. I like it...

Me: I like it.

And that would undoubtedly be my downfall.