still trying to make sense of it. “Did you hit him?”
“No, I didn’t hit him. Christ! I wouldn’t hit him. Who do you think I am?”
Elizabeth didn’t seem to hear him and focused her attention on her son. “Are you all right? Oh, that looks bad! What happened, sweetie? Are your glasses broken?”
She knew he wouldn’t say anything until after Clayton left. Tilting his face up to hers, she could see the vessels had burst in his eye, leaving it bloody.
“How hard did you throw it?” she demanded, her expression horrified.
“Not too hard. And it’s just a bruise. His eye is fine, and we managed to tape his glasses back together.”
“It’s more than a bruise!” Elizabeth’s voice rose, barely controlled.
“Stop acting like this is my fault!” Clayton barked.
“It is your fault!”
“He’s the one who missed it! We were just playing catch. It was an accident, for God’s sake! Wasn’t it, Ben? We were having fun, right?”
Ben stared at the ground. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Tell her what happened. Tell her it wasn’t my fault. Go ahead.”
Ben shifted from one foot to the other. “We were playing catch. I missed the ball and it hit me in the eye.” He held up his glasses, crudely taped at the bridge and the top of one lens with duct tape. “Dad fixed my glasses.”
Clayton held up his palms. “See? No big deal. Happens all the time. It’s part of the game.”
“When did this happen?” Elizabeth demanded.
“A few hours ago.”
“And you didn’t call me?”
“No. I took him to the emergency room.”
“The emergency room?”
“Where else was I supposed to take him? I knew I couldn’t bring him back here without having him checked out, so I did. I did what any responsible parent would do, just like you did when he fell off the swing and broke his arm. And if you remember, I didn’t get all crazy on you, just like I don’t get crazy about you letting him play in the tree house. The thing is a death trap.”
She seemed too shocked to speak, and he shook his head in disgust. “Anyway, he wanted to go home.”
“Okay,” she said, still struggling with her words. A muscle clenched and unclenched in her jaw. She waved Clayton off. “Whatever. Just go. I’ll take it from here.”
With her arm around Ben, she started to lead him away, and it was in that instant that Clayton spotted Thibault sitting on the porch, staring directly at him. Clayton’s eyes widened before they flashed in anger. He started for the porch.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Thibault simply stared at him without moving. Zeus’s growls grew more ominous.
“What’s he doing here, Beth?”
“Just go, Keith. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” She turned away.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he spat, reaching for her arm. “I’m just asking you a question.”
At that moment, Zeus snarled and his rear legs began to quiver. For the first time, Clayton seemed to notice the dog, his teeth bared, the fur on his back standing straight up.
“If I were you, I’d let go of her arm,” Thibault said. His voice was flat and calm, more a suggestion than an order. “Right now.”
Clayton, eyeing the dog, let go immediately. As Elizabeth and Ben hurried to the porch, Clayton glared at Thibault. Zeus took a single step forward, continuing to snarl.
“I think you’d better go,” Thibault said, his voice quiet.
Clayton debated for an instant, then took a step backward and turned away. Thibault heard him cursing under his breath as he stalked back to the car, opened the door, and slammed it shut behind him.
Thibault reached out to pet Zeus. “Good boy,” he whispered.
Clayton backed out of his spot, made a sloppy three-point turn, and took off up the drive, spewing gravel. His taillights receded from view, and only then did the fur on Zeus’s back finally lower. His tail wagged as Ben approached.
“Hi, Zeus,” Ben said.
Zeus glanced at Thibault for permission. “It’s okay,” Thibault said, releasing him. Zeus pranced toward Ben as if to say, I’m so happy you’re home! He nosed at Ben, who started to pet him.