Page 27 of Ride or Die

“Rodeos?” Tom enquires. “Like with horses and bulls and stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m a bull rider.”

“Woah…” he breathes out, clearly impressed. “For real?”

I laugh again ignoring the pinch of fear in my chest. “For real.”For how long, I don’t know…

“Wow.”

I glance at him then, quirking a brow. “You ever been to a rodeo?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, if y’all decide to stay for a while, I’ll take you to one,” I say. “If it’s okay with your mama, of course.”

“That’d besocool.” When he smiles, it’s one of the first real smiles I’ve seen on the kid, and it makes my heart swell.

“I hope we stay,” Tom says after a pause.

“Oh yeah?” I don’t look at him, focusing on the engine instead. But I feel like this is my in—my way to find out more. I don’t want to pry, and I definitely don’t want to ask questions I shouldn’t be asking behind Clara’s back, but there’s so much I want to know. So, I try to keep it casual, leave it up to him to divulge. “Where are y’all headed?”

“I don’t know,” Tom answers easily. “I don’t even think Mom knows. She just wanted to get us as far away from?—”

When he stops suddenly, I turn to him, noticing the way he looks like he’s said too much.

“Your daddy?”

Hesitating briefly, Tom shakes his head. “I don’t even know my dad.”

Damn. “Billie’s daddy?”

Tom nods, and I notice the thick swallow he forces down his throat.

Turning, I place the wrench into the drawer next to all the others in my toolbox, wiping my hands with the rag tucked intothe waist of my jeans. Resting back against the truck, I fold my arms across my chest, studying Tom. From the way he keeps his gaze downturned, to the permanent cower in his shoulders; it’s like looking into my very own past.

“He ever hurt you?”

Tom snaps his head up then, his eyes meeting mine. But, just when I’m sure he’s about to tell me more—something, at least—we’re interrupted by a shrill, bloodcurdling scream coming from the house.

“Billie!” Tom shouts, jumping off the crate and running as fast as his little legs can carry him, the torch falling from his grip and landing on the dirt path that leads from the barn to the house, its light illuminating the darkness as it rolls across the ground.

I run, my long strides overtaking Tom. I push open the screen door and race through the house, following the sound of Billie’s cries to find her curled into a tiny ball on her bed, sobbing while sucking her thumb.

Hesitating in the doorway, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. But thankfully Tom’s here. He steps around me and rushes to the side of the bed, placing his hand on his sister’s shoulder.

“You okay, Bil?”

“I had a… a bad dream,” she whines around her thumb.

“Wanna talk about it?” Tom asks.

She shakes her head, glassy, tear-filled eyes unblinking and trained directly on me.

“What was it about?” Tom presses gently, squeezing her small shoulder.

Looking at her brother, then, Billie hesitates before whispering low enough for me to barely hear. But I do. And her word chills me to my core. “Him…”

Tom glances at me briefly, as if he’s checking whether I can hear or not. I pretend I don’t, all the while my hands clench into fists by my sides.