Dead Against Her (Bree Taggert, #5)

“I’d ask the same of you.”

With a nod, Bree left the office. In the lobby, a man in a suit stood at the counter glowering at everyone, including the tall blond boy. From his irritated expression, she assumed he was the boy’s father. The man’s brows shot up as he took in Bree’s uniform. He pointed at the blond boy. “Did you get yourself arrested?”

“No, sir,” the boy mumbled.

“You’re going to be sorry you dragged me out of work.” His tone was harsh.

Bree walked by but offered no explanation. She couldn’t muster much pity for the blond kid. Luke might not be ponying up the details, but she knew him. Whatever had happened had been caused by the other kid. Let them sweat.

Luke stood as she approached. He gave her a questioning look.

She gave him a quick headshake. “Let’s get out of here.”

Luke grabbed the backpack at his feet. Then he hurried out of the building, smacking the bar on the exit door with both hands. Right behind him, Bree headed for the SUV.

The morning sun heated the top of her head. Luke’s shoulders slumped as he dragged his feet on the concrete walkway.

Bree turned him to face her. “So, you want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“The principal says you threw the first punch.”

“Yeah.” Luke bit off the word.

“Why?”

Silence.

Frustration fizzed inside Bree like Alka-Seltzer. “I can’t help if I don’t know the problem.”

“You can’t help anyway.” His tone was hopeless.

“Luke, talk to me,” she all but pleaded.

He shook his head, then paused at the curb. “What about my car?” he asked. Bree had given him the old Honda Accord she’d brought with her from Philadelphia.

“Go get it,” she said. “Go directly home. I’ll meet you there.”

Without speaking, Luke dug out the key from his pocket and headed for the students’ lot behind the school.

Bree listened to radio chatter and chewed two antacids during the short drive home. Her cell phone buzzed, but she ignored it. For once, her focus had to be Luke.

Ten minutes later, Bree turned into their driveway and parked in front of the house. Luke parked next to her. He bolted from the car and headed for the barn. She followed him. The horses were in the pasture. At the sight of Bree and Luke, the three animals headed toward the fence. Riot broke into a trot, put his head over the fence, and nudged Luke’s pocket.

Luke rested his head on his horse’s neck.

Bree gave him a few minutes. When he still didn’t speak, she said in a soft voice, “You’re suspended for three days.”

His eyes misted as he fought tears. “It’s not fair.”

“Why isn’t it fair?”

“Because they’re assholes.”

Bree resisted chastising him for his language. Swearing was the least of her worries at the moment. “I know you. You don’t start fights.”

He flushed. A single tear escaped. He swiped a jerky hand across his cheek. “They were showing pictures around school.”

Bree knew instantly what pictures he meant, and she felt sick.

Luke’s face turned bright red. “And a video.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She breathed. She wanted to break something. “They’re fake.”

“I know,” he snapped. “There weren’t any tattoos in the pictures or video.” His tone turned from angry to resigned. “I pointed that out. Bobby laughed, said it didn’t matter. He was sharing the video with everyone.” He gritted his teeth. “He called you a whore, and I punched him.”

“Oh, Luke.” Bree’s heart ached. He’d defended her. She loved this kid beyond belief. She felt every ounce of his pain. “Bobby is the blond?”

He nodded. His hands curled into fists. “I just couldn’t think. I got mad, and I reacted. I know I shouldn’t have let him bait me.”

“You’re right,” Bree said. “Bobby is a jerk.”

He lifted his eyes to hers and snorted, breaking a small amount of the tension.

The hell with the school and the suspension.

“I appreciate you standing up for me, but you need to control your temper. I don’t approve of fighting.”

He looked away and stared at the ground. His eyes watered as if more tears threatened to break free.

Bree continued. “Violence isn’t the answer. It’s exactly the reaction Bobby wanted from you.” She squeezed his arm. “If you step out of line again, they won’t let you play baseball.”

His gaze shot back to hers. He opened his mouth, then closed it as he struggled for control.

It broke Bree’s heart. “Please don’t let him bait you into another fight. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I was the reason you couldn’t play ball or get a scholarship, if I let my job interfere with your future. That would be more devastating to me than any embarrassing fake video. Does that make sense?”

He swallowed but said nothing.

“If someone physically attacks you, I would never tell you to stand down. You can always defend yourself if it’s necessary. But this is different.” She searched for the right words. “You can’t punch every jerk you run across. There are too many of them. You wouldn’t have time for much else.”

His mouth quirked. “I guess.”

“Bobby and his friends are in trouble often?” Bree asked.

He nodded. “He thinks a suspension is a vacation.”

“Then they don’t have as much to lose from getting into a fight.”

Something dawned in Luke’s eyes.

Bree continued. “You get good grades. You’re a star on the baseball team.” She paused. “When some people get jealous, they try to bring other people down instead of raising themselves up. And you have to realize that there are people who just aren’t as capable as you are of the kinds of success you’ve achieved. Not everyone is smart. Not everyone is athletic. Not every kid in school has an adult who gives a damn about them.”

Staring across the field, Luke snorted. “I guess I’m lucky?” His words brimmed with sarcasm. He’d lost his mother to violence, and his father—currently in prison for fraud—was worse than useless.

“In some ways, yes.” Bree paused, searching for the right words, afraid she’d get it wrong. “I’ve lived through a great deal of tragedy.”

Luke glanced at her.

Bree rarely spoke of her childhood with the kids. “But I consider myself lucky. I have you and Kayla, Uncle Adam, Dana, Matt. At first, I resisted appreciating all I’ve been given. I tend to look at the worst-case scenario. But I’m trying to do better. I’m learning to enjoy family and friends, to treasure each day, to look forward instead of back. I can’t change the past, and I can’t control everything, but I can damn well affect my future.”

“But what if everyone believes those pictures are real?” Luke finally met her gaze.

“I can only do what I can do,” Bree admitted.

“Will you lose your job?”

“It’s possible, but it’s only a job.” There. She’d said it out loud. “I will survive without it.”

“It doesn’t seem right that you could lose it for no reason.”

“No, it doesn’t. The world isn’t fair, but you know that. I can’t control what other people think, say, or do. But I can control my own actions.”

He scratched Riot’s withers. The horse bobbed his head and lifted his upper lip in approval. Like Bree and Adam, Luke’s soul was older than his chronological age. Tragedy and loss had aged him. Bree wasn’t often grateful for the horrors of her childhood, but today she appreciated her ability to empathize with Luke. How many people could understand what it was like to lose your mother to murder?

“So you have three days of riding Riot.”

“You’re not going to ground me or anything?”

“Nope. Promise me you won’t do it again, no matter what jerks like Bobby say or do?”

“OK.” Luke sounded reluctant, but his voice rang with sincerity. He’d keep his word.

“I understand why Bobby wouldn’t tell the principal why you punched him. He’d get into additional trouble for possessing and sharing pornography at school. But why didn’t you tell her?”