The Rebel - Raleigh Ruebins Page 0,7
house, but he does whatever he wants here.
I try to unclench my jaw and realize that my teeth are chattering like they used to when my parents were having one of the big fights—the ones where my mom would throw dishes and my dad would make threats. The fights got worse when Dad found out I was gay. He blamed Mom for it. She said it wasn’t her fault that their son was fucked up in the head.
I push the thoughts of my childhood out of my head. I stumble up the stairs into the bedroom, packing my backpack as quickly as I can. I’m already sloppy.
Bandit’s sleeping in the corner, cozy on the big new dog bed I got for him last week.
“We’ve gotta go, B,” I tell him. He yawns, licking his front paw lazily.
I have to dial Katie four times before she picks up, her voice groggy and thick with sleep.
“Liam, it’s four in the morning—”
“I need help,” I say.
Katie has no idea I’m drowning.
“Liam…”
“I… I need you to come pick me and Bandit up. I’m leaving Colin. I have to leave.” I can hear the panic rising in my voice and my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, even now. I know this is all my fault, and I’m ashamed even asking for help.
“I’ll be there in ten,” Katie says kindly, more alert now. She hangs up.
Katie’s been telling me to leave him for months. Maybe she’s proud of me, I think. I can feel a lump forming in the back of my throat.
I look out the window of the second-floor room and see Colin down there on the pool raft, singing to himself off-key. He pulls a bag out of his pocket, taking another bump of coke off his pinky finger. He’s careless, and the bag falls into the pool, white powder blooming out beside him. He starts shouting.
“Fuck! Fuck, that’s three hundred fucking dollars!” I know he’s going to somehow find a way to blame me for this.
I sway in place, my world going dim at the edges. The room is spinning now, and I back away from the window.
I get on my knees and Bandit curls up next to me, gently licking the back of my hand. His paws are so big. He’s still a six-month old puppy. Animals weren’t allowed in our house growing up. Too dirty. Too unpredictable. Kind of like me. But I’d wanted a Husky since I was eight years old, and finally, now, I have one. And I love him.
The last thing I remember before I black out is the gentle, almost sympathetic whine that Bandit lets out when my head hits the floor.
“S’okay, boy. It’s gonna be okay,” I mutter as the world goes dark.
The dog had a sock hanging out of his mouth as I walked into my tiny little Amberfield house, shutting the front door behind me.
“Bandit,” I scolded him, and he got excited, padding off down the hallway to my room, where I was sure he’d been playing with other socks all night.
A door in the middle of the hallway opened and Katie peeked out, smiling at me.
“You’re back early,” she said, crossing over into the living room.
“Yeah. Can you do me a favor and put me in a time machine, so I can go back and punch myself for ever thinking it was a good idea to talk to Red again?”
“Shit,” she said. “It was that bad?”
“Shitshow,” I said.
I’d been running on pure adrenaline the entire time I was in Red’s Tavern. I had expected to be a little emotional, but I was overwhelmed by how fucking proud I was of Red for everything he’d accomplished. Ten years ago, in LA, he’d just been a bartender with a dream of starting his own one day.
Katie came over, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. Her short blonde hair smelled like coconut.
“I’m sorry, Liam,” she said.
“It doesn’t help that he’s ten times more gorgeous now than he was before,” I said.
“Still all cowboy-hot?”
“Every bit. He looks like a damn movie star.”
She pulled in a breath through her teeth, giving me a sympathetic look. “Annoying. It would have been easier if he didn’t look great.”
“You’re sure as shit right about that.”
I had wondered if I’d still be as attracted to him now after so many years. That question had been shattered pretty fast. He was almost forty years old now, and he had aged like a fucking top-shelf whiskey.
He’d been wearing worn-in jeans that