“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it all my life. Believe me, I can handle whatever the police throw at me,” he said with a weird smirk.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. I glanced over at his disfigured ear.
“Never mind. I didn’t mean that literally,” he said, shaking his head—a move I now knew he did to make sure his hair covered his scar. “I just meant that we have no choice but to trust the system—”
“What happened to you?” I cut him off. He knew my secrets. It was time for me to know some of his.
He glared at me with how dare you eyes, but I held his gaze like we were having a blinking contest. “Liam, c’mon, you know I won’t say a word—”
“I have a record, OK? A juvenile record, that is. It’s sealed, and supposed to be expunged or erased, or whatever, when I turn eighteen next year. But it exists. And somehow Martinez knows about it. That’s what he was talking to me about that night he came to your door. He warned me to stay out of this, and away from you, or else he’d make sure my record got longer.”
“What?” I lost the blinking contest. “Back up. What did you do?”
“It was a long time ago, Ruby. I’ve never told anyone about it.”
“Are you freaking kidding me? Whatever you did can’t compare to what you’ve witnessed me do,” I said, irritated that he was holding back when things were so lopsided in the bad-deeds department.
“I nearly killed my father,” he said point-blank, staring at his hands as if they might still have blood on them.
“Because he did that to you?” Not only did I ask the question we’d been avoiding for weeks, but I actually reached over and touched his ear. At first he flinched away, but then he hung his head and let me move his hair aside to run my fingertips along the disfigured skin. I could feel him cringing as I prodded his head to the side to allow the blue light of my console to shine on the scarring. My heart ached for Liam’s embarrassment, and it burned for the father that had done this to him.
“Well, yeah, I reacted to defend myself from him, but really to protect my mom and brothers.” Before he looked away, I saw that his eyes were now full of sorrow and rage. “He used to abuse her right in front of us, our whole lives. He’d come home wasted, knock her around, call her every name in the book, accuse her of things—and if my brothers or I got in the way, we got it, too.”
“You have brothers?” I asked, wondering how I didn’t know this.
“Christian is twelve, and Tug is only eight.”
“Tug? That’s his name?”
“Well, his real name is Tomas, but my mom always says ‘If you’re not careful, he’ll tug your heart right out,’ ” Liam said, smiling painfully and looking out into the night. “Not to mention your arms if you don’t take him surfing when he wants.”
“Good to know,” I said, hoping I’d get the chance to meet them someday.
“Anyway, one night, when I was thirteen, I just couldn’t take it anymore. He came home from work late, drunk and out of his mind. He was angry about…everything. He went after my mom. Slapping her, pushing her, accusing her of having affairs when everyone knew—well, I knew because I was the oldest—that he was the one sleeping around. He threw Christian across the room for getting in the way and was about to go after Tug for crying when I snapped. He got me in the ear with a broken beer bottle, but I…” He closed his eyes as if talking about it made him relive it.
I put my hands on his cheeks and made him look at me. It was my turn to comfort him. “It’s OK—if there’s anybody in this world who’d understand, it’s me.”
“I would have done anything to protect my mom and brothers, even if it meant killing him.” Liam swallowed hard, like he regretted letting his dad live. I finally understood why he liked me—I was just as damaged as he was, if not more.
He was big and strong and gorgeous, but broken. Cracked inside—just like me. We both put on our best show, but underneath we couldn’t stop the suffering for those we’d lost and what we’d done.
“Where is he?” I asked, wondering if I needed to go kick his ass right this second.
“He still lives up in NorCal. I haven’t seen him since the trial.”
“Trial? He pressed charges on you?” I gasped and placed my hands over his balled-up fists.
“Yeah, and they stuck. They said I should’ve spoken up about the abuse—if it really happened.” He squeezed my hand. “They didn’t believe me after the fact.”
“What? Didn’t your mom and brothers testify to back you up? Surely they had bruises or other physical evidence to corroborate your side of the story.”
“Things got complicated, Ruby.” He shook his head and pulled his hands away from mine. “My dad was smart. He rarely left evidence of his abuse. Even that night, I was the only one hurt. Christian had carpet burns and my mom had red marks, but as usual, the real damage was on the inside.” Liam cracked his window and took a breath of fresh air. “Plus, my dad has a lot of money and he hired an attorney to file a petition to terminate her parental rights, arguing that my mom had poisoned me against him. That she actually brainwashed me into trying to kill him for the money. My brothers were little, and I couldn’t bear to see them being put through all that. And, we didn’t have any money to fight him. He agreed to drop the petition and let her have custody of us if I copped to the assault charge. So I did. He kept his good name along with his multimillion-dollar business, and I took the blame.”
I grimaced at the reality of the situation.
I had been taught—ingrained with the belief, really—that the justice system worked. That the police investigate the crimes, the D. A.’s office prosecutes them, and the Constitution protects it all. Sure, there were glitches, but overall it was the best system in the world. And I preached this at my high school Constitution Society meetings. True, I only founded the stupid club to pad my resume, but I still believed it.
Until now.
Now, I didn’t know what to believe if abusers like Liam’s father and murderers like Father Michael could get away with so many premeditated crimes, with malice aforethought and intent to do harm. Liam had none of that, I had none of that, but we could go down in flames.
“If I’d reported the abuse earlier, documented it, documented some evidence against my father before it all blew up? Maybe he’d be the one with the record and not me.”
“You were just a kid, Liam,” I argued. “How could you have documented evidence against him? That makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense, Ruby,” he said, shaking his head. “After the fact, it was our word against his. And his word meant a whole lot more than ours. He was a well-respected businessman who donated regularly to the campaigns of anyone who mattered in the City of Santa Cruz. The police couldn’t help me even if they believed me.”
“I get it, Liam. I know how much it matters to have connections. I’ve obviously been on the receiving side of that crooked line lately, and I have the same problem you did! I don’t have any evidence. Silver has made damn sure of that,” I said, burned out. Tired of being cold, sick of thinking, and weary of being me.
“I know,” Liam said softly. “I know.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, staring into the dark night. There were no easy answers, and we had almost no one to trust.
“I just need some time.” I interrupted the silence. “I promise, I’ll think about it.”
“In the meantime, is it OK if I come up?” he asked.
“Up where? To my room?” I said, surprised.
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said. “Your mom isn’t home yet.”