x x x
I retouched my makeup before dinner that night, to keep the worst of my bruises from my brothers, though I didn’t for a minute believe it fooled them. I hadn’t seen much of my father since I’d caught him out on the patio. He hadn’t done as much as look in my direction when we were in the same room, which was for the best, as I couldn’t keep my eyes off him when he was near. I also couldn’t seem to control my rage enough to keep it off my face. After watching Dad stuff three bites of potato into his mouth and practically swallow without chewing, all I could think was how disgusting he was and how I couldn’t believe my mother could stand to be near him all those years. And while I watched Dad, Michael had been watching me. He reached his hand under the table to hold mine, distracting me enough to look away. Unfortunately, my rage-filled gaze fell on Freddie, who shrank back before I could offer an apologetic look.
Dad grunted something and left the table before the rest of us, which made me think I was free of him for the evening, but after everything was cleaned up and put away, I walked into the hall and found him leaning against the banister, flask in hand. It was enough to make me decide to sleep in the park that night.
I made a face and tried to rush past him up the stairs, but he reached out and grabbed my arm. I shook him off and glared. “Don’t.”
He shifted his weight and stared at the wood of the banister, like it was why he was there in the first place. “You were in the park today.”
I silently cursed the entire lineage of that DC.
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.” I practically yelled the word, which made Dad look at me before he remembered himself. With his gaze firmly fixated on the front door, he said, “You said I was with you.”
I nodded, not that he could see.
“Why would you do that?” When I didn’t answer, he barked, “Why?!”
I shrugged, tried to regulate my breathing and force a calm, but that didn’t seem to make my tone any lighter. “Well, he was asking questions that were none of his business, wasn’t he?”
Dad finally managed a longish glance in my direction. “Yeah, well.” He rubbed the back of his neck and took a drink from his flask. “You’ll say the same again if someone asks.” He punctuated this order with a single nod, then stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door.
I looked at my arm where he had grabbed it, brushed my fingers over the skin as if I could clean him off me. That his DNA was part of my makeup made me want to retch until I was purged of him altogether.
True to form, Lock had found his way into my bedroom again, still not ready to leave me in this place without a sentry. He seemed to know my thoughts the very moment I stepped into my room. Or maybe it was always his plan to jump up from my bed and surround me with his arms. In any case, he whispered in my ear, “Make an excuse, any excuse, and let me take you from here.”
He knew I couldn’t, knew why. I’d said it too many times to say it again, and still he responded to my excuse. “We’ll bring them with us. Eat Mrs. Hudson’s sandwiches and watch movies on Mycroft’s tablet until they’re all asleep.”
I smiled and turned my face into the soft cotton of his T-shirt. “And when he unleashes all the Queen’s men to find us?”
Lock shrugged. “We are our own army, you and I. None can stand before us.”
After I’d clicked out my light, and before I’d given up on sleeping alone and crawled from my bed to curl up with Lock on the floor, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and quickly typed “Sorte Juntos” into Google Translate. The words were Portuguese, meaning “lucky together,” almost meaningless—or might have been on another night.
For the first time since I’d asked him, I felt glad that Lock would be with me in Sussex. I wasn’t sure what I’d find there, but I knew somehow Lock would make it seem manageable—-or at least survivable.
x x x
I spent most of the night thinking of all the reasons why leaving for a whole day was a truly horrific idea, but there was no way around it. The travel time alone was almost six hours round-trip. I only justified it by reminding myself that the boys would be in school most of the day, and Dad at work, but there were too many contingencies—too many ways this ended badly—for me to let it go. By midnight, I was in the bathroom texting Sadie and asking for her promise to check in on the boys after school, just in case Lock and I didn’t make it home on time. She was, predictably, still up reading, and texted right back assuring me she’d even bring over a snack, as she’d been baking again—her way of dealing with homesickness.
Calls home are a special form of torture, she typed. I miss my family too much.
About today, I sent back, but then I didn’t know what to say.