Free Keep Me Still by Caisey Quinn Page B

what I’ll do.
    The Colonel lets out a noise, it might be a word, under his breath but I can’t make it out.
    “Maybe you boys should go to your separate corners. You’re scaring poor Layla to death.” His mom forces a smile and huffs out a breath as if it’s all in good fun. Before anyone has time to do anything, the Colonel turns and staggers around Landen and walks out the back door. I flinch when it slams but I was expecting it so it doesn’t cause any tremors to come.
    But Landen’s rage flares anyways. “The next time he slams something or does anything to cause Layla to so much as blink too much, I’m fucking killing him,” he says to his mom before turning towards me.
    Our gazes collide as he comes towards me. The heat in his sends fire scorching through my veins. I want to grab him, kiss him. Tell him this isn’t his fault. That there’s something majorly messed up with his dad. I want to beg him to come home with me and never come back to this awful place again. The place where he should be safe and loved and isn’t.
    My hands ache to touch him but the force field created by his residual hostility holds me back. “I’m going downstairs,” is all he says before he walks out, leaving me alone in a sea of awkwardness with his mom.
    Looking at her, I know she can probably see the questions in my eyes. She doesn’t meet mine as she speaks. “He’s not a bad man, just… stressed. He’ll go out to the shed and blow off steam. Landen’s probably downstairs in the den doing the same. They’ll be over it by tomorrow.” She lifts her shoulder slightly and rolls her eyes. “Men.” She offers me an apologetic smile but her eyes hold the truth. I don’t smile back. I know what she’s doing. Trying to make light of something very dark.
    How long has she been doing that? My stomach plummets at the thought of a little boy with messy dark hair and tear-filled green eyes being kicked around like a junkyard dog.
    “Okay,” I choke out over the lump that’s formed in my throat. “Thank you for dinner. I’m going to go down and say goodbye.”
    “Door’s down the hall on your left,” is all she says.
    When I find the door on the left, I think his mom must be mistaken. Or I chose the wrong one. It’s pitch black and I’m gripping the handrail to get down the stairs without falling and breaking my neck. “Landen?” I whisper into the darkness.
    “Over here. Take five steps and make a right. Put your hands out.” His voice is thick and low. Wounded. Angry. I do as I’m told until I feel a well-worn leather couch beneath my hands.
    I reach until I feel him and lower myself onto the seat beside him. Minutes pass and neither of us says a word. Until I can’t take it anymore. “That happen a lot?”
    “Depends on what you mean by a lot.”
    “Jesus, Landen. That’s not okay. He hit you.” I find his arm and wrap mine around it, leaning over into him. I don’t know how to comfort him, how to make it better. But God I want to so badly.
    “It happens,” is all he says. His voice is raw and broken and it sends a painful sensation crashing over me. Peels away my skin and leaves my nerves exposed.
    I want to climb on top of him. Kiss him, devour him. Fix him. Make it better, like he does for me. I take a few deep breaths and turn towards him. I can’t see it, but I know that muscle in his jaw is probably flexing. Know his fists are clenched.
    “I’m so sorry.” I reach up and place my arms around his neck, pulling him to me, yanking him into a hug he may not want but I need.
    He snorts out a small laugh. “You’re sorry? What the hell, Layla? Don’t apologize because my dad was a drunken asshole and disrespected you. That just makes it worse. I should’ve made the bastard spit teeth.”
    “No, you shouldn’t have. He’s drunk, like you said. No amount of hitting will fix that.”
    “Might be worth a shot,” he grumbles and pulls back. I open my mouth to protest but he lays his head in