“I’m sorry.” She understood bullying. She’d seen neighborhood kids pick on Jeremy. She’d put herself between them. But Will a bully? She remembered his defense of Jeremy at the grocery store, and, in a way, his story made sense of his reaction that day. He’d seen himself in that clerk. Cruel and demeaning. And he’d gone overboard to protect her brother. “But the gang took you back?”
“I went back. I thought they were my people. I thought they were my family, the only one that would ever want me. And that isn’t all I did.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb, his touch a contrast to what he was saying. “You need to know everything. Everything I’ve never told anyone but the Mavericks and my foster mom and dad. I was a burglar and a car thief, too.” He moved slightly, indicating the tattoo on his arm. “I stole anything I thought I could sell. I was really good at picking out the good stuff.” His laugh was more of a snort, angry and mocking. “I still am. I’ve made a fortune at peddling the good stuff.”
Her lips parted. She couldn’t seem to close them again.
“My dad sent me into houses. I was small and I fit through windows where he couldn’t. He’d toss me in and I’d unlock the place for him. Since I was always able to spot the best stuff, dear old pops put that skill to excellent use. We lifted everything we could carry.”
“Your father?” No one could do that to a child, especially not their own child, could they? Except that she wasn’t naïve. She knew people did awful things to children all the time. But this was Will. Not some fifteen-second news bite about a stranger.
“He’s in prison now. Three strikes and you’re out.”
It was hard to breathe, hard to hear, but she knew it was harder for him to tell. “How old were you when he made you steal for him?”
“It started when I was eight. A couple of years after my mom died. When my father figured I was old enough to follow orders without screwing up.”
Her whole soul ached for him, as if she’d suddenly been shoved through a tiny window right along with him, shards of glass scarring her the way his father had scarred him. She’d wondered why he’d sidestepped all her questions, why he’d never told her his story. Now she knew: This was the truth he hadn’t wanted her to pry up.
She’d told her story so many times that she’d ended up feeling as though it defined her, as though it had too much power over her. Whereas, even though Will had told almost no one else, she could see the enormous power his past had over him—and that he believed it defined him, too.
But couldn’t he see? “None of that was your fault.”
He pulled from her then, almost to the opposite side of the bed. So far, far away that even if her hand had been on his chest, his heart, she still wouldn’t have touched him.
“Maybe I wasn’t to blame at first. But all the stuff I did later was my fault. All the bad choices. Lots of bad choices.”
She ached to run her fingers down his arm or to smooth the tightness from his forehead. Anything to ease his pain. But he needed to get it out, and she was afraid that he’d stop if she pushed him just then. Still, she needed to say again, “You were just a kid.”
“I was a bully. I was a thief. I could hotwire a car like that.” He snapped his fingers, a loud, sharp sound in the quiet. “Still can. I probably would have gone to juvie when they put my dad in jail if it hadn’t been for Susan and Bob. Daniel’s parents took us all in when we needed it. Except for Matt.” He shrugged, pressed his lips together, the shadows taking over his beautiful face. “He never moved in officially, he was just underfoot all the time.”
When he talked about Susan and Bob, his voice was reverent, rife with emotion and meaning. The Mavericks, Susan and Bob—these people were the most important in the world to him. No wonder they were bonded beyond blood relation. She didn’t know his friends’ stories or anything about their lives, but if they’d come to Daniel’s parents, she now knew they must have seen things as bad as Will had.
She wanted so desperately to reach out. But Will remained untouchable. “They must be good people.”
“The best. I should have accepted what they offered me long before I did.” A wisp of wind could have carried the soft words away, but other than the rustle of sheets as Will moved, there was only the sound of his voice. “But I didn’t stop doing the things my dad taught me.” His fingers bunched in the sheet as he pulled it higher. “I loved speed. I loved drag racing. I loved cars. And I loved stealing them. I was one of the Road Warriors. And I thought they loved me, too. But I didn’t have a clue.” He turned his head, finally looking at her, one half of his face in light, the other in darkness. “That’s what I did to Susan and Bob. To the people who tried to help me. Gave them heartache and worry.”