He flicks on his blinker, and seems to be struggling to find the words to finish as he makes the turn back toward downtown Shiloh.

“I think he underestimated how...sober his dad was. It was still early. Shay’s drinking got a lot worse when Waylon was a teenager. He’d drink until he passed out nearly every night. I’ve no doubt Waylon would have had the upper hand if he had just a couple more drinks in him. If he just waited a couple more hours. But he didn’t, and Shay ended up beatin’ the shit outta him because Waylon was drunk.”

I inhale sharply.

“Shay thought he killed him, and it made him panic. Turns out he was sober enough to kick the crap outta his son, but not sober enough to pass a breathalyzer,” he tells me dryly. “—Mason’s mom. She’s a nurse. She was working that night when they brought him in. I guess no one could reach Waylon, so she called up her son. He was babysitting Phoebe, but Izzy was there. She drove over to let Waylon know what happened...” He trails off, sucking in his cheek.

I twist my head just slightly to watch Waylon sleep in the corner of my vision.

“She found him just in time,” Reggie says in a tight whisper. “He would’ve drowned in his own blood had she not got there when she did. Cracked rib punctured one of his lungs. Nearly had to have his spleen removed. His face was a mess.” His voice breaks.

Bile rises swiftly up my throat, tears stinging my eyes as my vision reddens with anger. Pain.

Waylon’s dark lashes flutter over his cheeks, and I hope he’s dreaming good things... and not reliving the horror that was his waking life growing up.

“How old was he?” I ask quietly, trying to remember what year that article said his dad went to prison.

“Just a few months shy of seventeen.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “His whole life. He hurt him his whole life.”

Reggie doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

His face is strained when I finally manage to pull my gaze away from Waylon. “You didn’t know,” I tell him softly. “He knows that. He told me. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He sniffs. “I was the adult. I failed him. Nothin’ will ever erase that.”

I don’t try to argue with that. I know there’s no changing his mind. Just look at me.

“Is going to your place the best idea?” I ask after a couple minutes pass.

“Probably not. But it’s the only one I have. He can’t go back to the apartment, and Ivy’s is outta the question. They need...space...from one another right now, I think.”