Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

32. Cat Out the Bag

Ryder leaned heavily on the doorframe, his head aching as he tried his hardest not to have a repeat what had happened less than an hour before. His grandmother's question bounced around his brain, worsening his already unstable mood.

Ryder, did your father hit you?

He found himself gasping for air as images flew through his mind and painful memories recreated their imprints on every part of his skin Felipe had ever abused.

He hunched over, beginning to hyperventilate. Panicked, his family rushed over, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words to try to get him to calm down. Miss Tulesa watched him like a hawk. Ryder didn't need to answer. She had all the information she needed.

"I'm gonna kill him," said Will, running his hands through his hair as he paced the room. "I swear to God, I'll kill the bastard."

Jonathan put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Will."

"Don't Will me. That kid-" he pointed at Ryder, who was still gasping, "-that kid is my nephew. He's my family. And if that good-for-nothing foreigner put his hands on Ryder, who the hell knows what he could've been doing to our sister?!"

At that, Ryder buried his head in his hands. It was too much. All of this was too much for him to handle.

"Will, be quiet," Dorothy snapped. "Can't you see he's upset enough?"

"He's not upset, Dorothy," her brother shot back. "He's a shell of a boy!"

"William!" Felicity interjected. "That's not his fault!"

"No, Felicity, it's not. It's that damn foreigner's! He ruined our nephew!" Will shook his head. "I have spent the last month trying to get to know this boy I never got to meet, try to figure out why the hell Eileen kept him and his brother away from us. Why he puts on this stupid façade around everybody he sees."

In that moment, Ryder met his uncle's pain-filled gaze. Their eyes said all the words they'd never be able to speak.

"How many times?" asked Will, voice cracking. "How many freaking times did that bastard put his hands on you?"

Ryder looked away, head bowed. Finally, he whispered a response.

"I lost count after twelve," he said, before breaking into a fit of laughter.

"How is that funny?" asked his grandmother gently.

"I don't understand why-" Ryder cut himself off. "Why won't you just give up on me? Why...why are you trying to save me?"

Another heavy breath.

"I'm broken," he admitted. "You're right, Will, I'm nothing but a shell."

"Ryder, you are so much more than a shell-"

"Tell everyone else that," he shot back, wiping his tear-stained face. "That's not what they see."

"What do you think they see? We see?" asked Jonathan.

"My father," Ryder gritted out. He pointed at his grandmother, who folded her arms. "You see a sarcastic, disrespectful, pathetic excuse for a man whose only claim to fame is the smooth-talking jailbird Latino that fathered him and turned your daughter into a rebel."

Miss Tulesa swallowed quietly as the rest of the family's eyes landed on her.

"You resent me because I am the living example of everything you never wanted for your precious Eileen. The very result of every mistake you never wanted her to make."

She made no attempt to defend herself, knowing full well that even if she tried to deny it, the boy was right. He was spot on.

Ryder turned his attention to his Uncle Jonathan. "I'm nothing but a criminal to you. You've been waiting for me to slip up since the minute you first saw me. I was never a Joseph in your eyes. I'm never going to be anything but Felipe's kid."