Prologue

Eighteen Years Old

“ I ’m okay, boys,” my mom says, sitting in the chair at the police station, never looking at either of us.

“We know you are. Because you’re tough,” Klay says before putting his arm around her and bringing her head to his shoulder—because that’s who he is.

He’s the dude who always knows the right thing to say or do to make things better. He could flash his smile and warm a frosty heart. Me? The only softness I’ve learned is from Paige Hendrix. She’s also the only one it’s easy for me to be gentle with.

I look harder at my mom once I know she isn’t going to see me openly gawking. Her lip is split, and the flesh around her eyes is somewhere between a shade of purple and black. Though blood drips from her mouth, she isn’t rushing to the bathroom to clean herself up the way she normally does. She just sits, almost like she’s too tired to care that everyone can see her this way. She just looks lost. Maybe too lost to be found.

This might have taken longer than I thought it would, but I knew it would eventually happen.

I fucking knew this would happen.

When my little brother, Klay, and I moved in with Coach Hendrix and his family last year so that we could play on his hockey team at Emerson High, he promised us he’d have someone look after our mom. Because without me around to protect her from our father, things were going to get ugly. He kept his end of the bargain as best he could by having his buddy—a police officer—keep an eye on my parents’ house, but he couldn’t be there twenty-four/seven.

When Mom had found out that Coach had asked that we move in with his family and attend Emerson High—the private high school on the better side of our county—she’d instantly pushed for it to happen, even when I fought it at first. I fought it because it was my job to protect her, and if I went to live with the Hendrix family, who would make sure she was safe?

When I told her I didn’t want to do it, her words were always the same. “I know you boys don’t owe me anything. After all, I’ve failed you both—miserably. But if you ever wanted to give me anything, anything at all, it would be for you to go. To go and live with Coach Hendrix and get the hell away from this house.”

Klay, being Klay, told her that wasn’t true—that she had never failed us. Me? I said nothing. Because the truth is, I was fucking pissed at her for not getting out. I didn’t understand then, nor do I now, why my mom stayed with a man who beat on her and her kids.

Even though a part of me had felt like she failed us, I’d also seen how selfless she was when she pushed us to get out of the house. But we were selfish cowards for going because look at her now. Bruised, battered, and completely fucking scared. Just like Klay and I have seen her so many times before this. Only this time, it’s like there’s nothing left for her to give. No reassurance. No forced smile. And no promises that she’s alright.

Just … nothing.

Our whole lives, we watched our dad beat the shit out of our mother. Some days, he’d choose me—it just depended on how much I’d tried to intervene to save my mom or how much my existence pissed him off that particular moment in time. But for the most part, he spared Klay.

Thank fucking God he spared Klay.

My little brother, even just fourteen months younger, is a better man than I am. He’s genuinely good and kind. And like me, he’s well on his way to being one of the greatest hockey players to ever grace the ice. I hope all his dreams come true because if anyone deserves that … it’s my brother.

We sit and wait for the officers to come and talk to us again. As far as I know, my dirtbag father is going to go to jail. But for how long? Who knows? The man doesn’t have a criminal record. He’s a wife-beating monster who has always slipped between the cracks. Not anymore though. That ends today.

Because when Klay; my girlfriend, Paige; and I went to my house tonight to see why my mother hadn’t been at my high school graduation earlier, I found my father beating the life out of her. Before she could tell me to stop, I made Paige call the cops.

Walking from the bathroom, Paige makes her way toward me. Even in this shitty situation, when I look at her, it brings me peace, just like the first time I saw her and every time since then.

She’s my whole life. And I don’t care that we’re only eighteen.

Her expression looks frazzled, and her shoulders sag. I’m not surprised by that; this shit can be a lot to take in. Watching a monster break down my mother has taken its toll on every one of us. I’ve always tried to hide all of this—the dark side of my past—from her, but you can’t keep secrets as big as this one hidden.

Paige is the best gift that life has ever given me. I never want anything to take her away. Especially my fucked-up family.

When I first met her, I really thought she hated her life because her family was a bunch of rich pricks who ignored her, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I think she did hate her life a little bit—but only because she was caught in the popular-girl role in high school, and she couldn’t stand it. Then, I came along, and even though I tried to fight my feelings for her for a while, that didn’t last long.

Her family is one of the best I’ve ever known. And her dad—even though I painted him as a stuck-up, country-club-going asshole, he isn’t like that. I may be regretting leaving my mom now, but he got me and Klay away from our old man. And now, maybe we can all be free.

When she takes a seat next to me, she pulls my hand into hers and squeezes.

Leaning to her ear, I frown and drop my voice so that my mother won’t hear me because the last thing I want to do is make her feel worse than I’m sure she already does. “I’ll make it up to you, Buttercup, you know? This isn’t how you should be spending your graduation night.”

“Shh,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I utter the words like a robot because I’ve been saying them for as long as I can remember. In my opinion, it’s just easier to say you’re fucking fine than be forced to talk about your shit.

“Kolt, Klay,” my mom suddenly whispers, sitting up straighter. “Can I talk to Paige? Alone?”

Klay and I stare at each other, stunned, for a second before Paige pats my hand.

“Go stretch your legs for a minute.” She kisses my cheek again. “I love you.”

“Oh, cut it out with the sappy shit, sis,” Klay teases, flashing Paige a grin—no doubt to lighten the mood.

“Love you,” I murmur, standing and gently kissing the top of her head.

As we walk away, I look back at Paige and wonder what the fuck my mother is about to say to her and why. I just hope it’s nothing to scare her away because that woman … well, she’s going to be my wife someday. Someday real soon, if I get my way.

When you get someone as good as her … you can’t let her get away.