“Then,” he went on, “all of a sudden, she starts and her momma’s barrelin’ over the rocks and scrub, eyein’ me. And momma gets cautious as she gets close, rounds up her baby, and when they clear the rock, they race off. And I stood there a long time when they were gone. It was cold as fuck, stays cold up on that mountain clean into July, which was why I was goin’ to get wood. But I didn’t move. Because all I could think was, I wished Baptiste had that. A momma barrelin’ over rock and scrub to get him out of harm’s way.”

He drew in a shaky breath.

I held mine.

“And I wish I had it.”

I shoved my face in his throat.

“But we didn’t,” he said. “And then I stood there thinking, ‘So what now?’”

I slid my arms around him.

“They took my childhood and they took Baptiste’s life. I get big, get strong, I’m not someone my mother can slap around, kick and pinch and take a hunk of my flesh between her fingers and twist until I taste blood, I’m bitin’ my tongue so hard not to cry out. Someone my father can beat down. They start fuckin’ with the Williamses because I’m there more than home and they can’t make me come home anymore. I’m not scared of them anymore. And with me not bein’ scared anymore, what’s that gonna mean to them? I heard it. They knew I did. I told that cop. They knew I loved my brother. They knew.”

He stopped talking and I didn’t start.

So, he continued.

“They start dickin’ with me, both of ’em, and I know they’re workin’ themselves up. They’re gettin’ tweaked. Then one night, Mister Oscar comes in while me and Shawn are hangin’ about, watchin’ the TV, and he takes me outside and he gives me two thousand dollars in cash and the keys to a piece-of-shit car, and he says, ‘Go, boy. Get out of Louisiana. Now. Drive.’ I looked at his face and I didn’t think. I took the money and the keys, and I got in that car and I got the fuck out of there.” He blew out a breath and finished, “I wasn’t seventeen.”

“You didn’t tell me that part,” I said softly.

“In the end, that’s Shawn’s story to tell.”

I shut my eyes tight, as with them, his folks, it always just got worse and worse.

“Lyla, baby, look at me.”

I took my face out of his throat and looked up at him.