“From who? Oh, don’t tell me,” Toby sneered. “Someone over at child services.”
“Your aunt. She says you’ve been couch surfing. Crashing with friends. Skipping school.”
Toby’s eyes narrowed. “It’s none of her business. Or yours.”
“Where’re you planning to live?”
Toby shrugged, his gaze moving to a squirrel that dashed across the flagstones to scramble up the massive trunk of a live oak. “What’s it to you?”
“Wanna know if I can help.”
Toby made a disgusted sound as he brought his attention back to Reed. Obviously, he wasn’t getting along with his dad, but if he had any bruises, they weren’t visible, and the kid wouldn’t let him know if his piece-of-crap father had used him as a punching bag. Reed had never seen evidence of it, but Sylvie had been protective of her children, insinuating that Bart was at least emotionally abusive. That was bad enough.
Without proof, Reed couldn’t do anything “We’ve got an apartment over our garage,” he offered, though he’d never brought it up before. Then again, Toby hadn’t been almost eighteen before. And Nikki probably wouldn’t care. Hell, didn’t she have a habit of taking in strays? Sure, they were usually in the form of dogs or cats, but she never really consulted Reed about the adoption, just hauled them home. “You could stay there. Long as you want.”
“Oh sure. Like that’s gonna happen.” Before Reed could say anything else, Toby added, “Isn’t your wife the reason my mom is dead?”
That cut deep. Because there was more than a little truth in it. “Your mother died in the line of duty.”
“Yeah, because your stupid-ass wife was where she wasn’t supposed to be and my mom saved her so she didn’t drown! That’s whymy mom … Shit.” His eyes glistened a little, and he scrabbled in his pockets for cigarettes and a lighter as, high overhead, the squirrel began to scold.
Reed’s jaw was so tight it ached, but he held it together as the teen lit up and took a deep drag, while cars passed, the beams from headlights flashing through the open front gate. “So where are you living?”
“My business.”
“You’re not eighteen.”
“Big deal. A few months.” More petulant smoking. More cars going by, headlights flashing through the courtyard’s open gate.
Two girls pushed through the doors of the apartment building, and Toby looked up, expectantly, but they passed by, both engrossed in their phones, not even glancing his way.
Reed said, “You haven’t been in school.”
“For fuck’s sake, how do you know that?” He answered his own question. “Oh, right, you’re a cop! You can do anything.”
“Your aunt’s worried,” Reed said, irritated by the attitude. He knew the boy was hurting, but Reed wasn’t setting himself up to be a whipping boy. “Your aunt Claire said you could live with her.”
“Well, she can just forget it! I’m not moving to goddamned Plano, okay?” Toby nearly shouted, his eyes flashing. “Why don’t you just fuck off and leave me the hell alone?”
“I promised your mom—”
“She’s dead! Right? We just went over this! I don’t want you in my life, and I don’t care about whatever guilt or responsibility or whatever the hell it is you’re carrying around with you. That’s on you!” He jabbed at Reed with his cigarette, then thought better of it and backed up a step. “Back off, man, just … back the hell off.” His voice cracked a little as he tossed his cigarette onto the sidewalk, crushed it out with the heel of an army boot. “Leave me alone!”
“You know, this attitude isn’t getting you anywhere.”
The boy’s fist bunched, and Reed saw his eyes spark. Electricity sizzled through the air and, with it, way too much testosterone. Toby, coiled tight as a pit viper, was itching for a fight, ready to strike. “I told you to ‘fuck off.’ Are you deaf or just dumb?”
Every muscle in Reed’s body tensed. If the kid wanted to fight, Reed could give him one. A good one. As the squirrel continuedto scold and traffic rolled by, Reed felt his jaw tighten, and he held the boy’s gaze, saying without words,Go for it, you little prick. Take me on.
For a split second, Reed thought Toby would attack. He knew the boy wanted, maybe needed, to use Reed as a punching bag, to wail on him, fists flying, letting loose all the pent-up frustration burning through him.
So be it.
Reed was ready.
He understood.
Hadn’t he once been a rebellious, mad-at-the-world teenager himself? Hadn’t he wanted to beat the living tar out of anyone who tried to tell him what to do? Hadn’t he been fired up by alcohol and machismo and self-righteousness?