Free Bird

Chapter 20

Danny's POV

I woke up feeling rested but kind of melancholy. The events from the night before were running through my head and I let out a quiet groan. This was not good.

Devon is a fucking prick.

I wanted to play it off as no big deal, but Cal was right to be concerned about it. I mean. I can put up a decent fight, but I doubt I could actually take on a full grown man. I also know that I'm going to have to continue to do business with that fucker. I could potentially find myself alone with him again and I didn't fucking want that.

To top it off, Cal wants to see me today at eleven and that means that I have to find a place to meet him. I pick up my phone to Google the library hours. I'm not sure if this one is open on Sundays.

3 missed calls
2 messages
2 voicemails

They're all from Ray. I forgot to get back to him the other day. He's probably worried as hell. I hit his number in the contacts, not bothering to check the voicemails and messages. I put the phone on speaker so I can check the library hours while I talk to him. According to Google the library opens at nine today. That means I can get a ride back to my apartment and have time to shower and get ready before walking up there to—

"Hello," Ray answers on the fourth ring, interrupting my train of thought.

"Hey, dude. Sorry I didn't get back to you the other day. I got caught up in some shit and completely forgot."

I was distracted by that kiss.

"I get it. I was just worried," Ray said, letting out one of his gruff sighs. "Did you listen to my voicemails?"

"No, I just called you back as soon as I saw I missed you."

"Oh. Well, then I wanted to tell you a couple things..."

"I'm all ears," I said, straightening up. He sounds hesitant.

"There are a couple letters here for you..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Your mom and Chris both wrote to me and tucked a letter for you in the envelopes," he said, quietly.

"Oh."

What is this fuckery?

"Yeah, they probably figured it was safe to contact you now that you're finally eighteen..."

"Right. I turned eighteen two and a half fucking months ago. And it's not like there's no way for them to get a fucking message across to me without anyone knowing who the fuck they're talking about," I snapped. I hadn't heard from my mom since she got arrested when I was 15 1/2 and I hadn't heard from my brother since eight months before that. He could've at least written to me in the year before mom got arrested. I know I wrote to him.

"Hey, kiddo, I know you're upset—,"

"I'm not fucking upset. I don't give a shit. Throw the fucking letters away, I don't want them," I cut him off. I don't want to waste my emotions on them.

Ray was quiet for a moment. I felt guilty. I shouldn't snap at Ray. He helped me. He saved me. He hid me. I still remember showing up at his doorstep that morning after spending the night huddled on the floor in the maintenance closet, listening to the sound of the police going up and down the stairs of the apartment, looking for me, looking for evidence, looking to ruin as many lives as they could...

The last time I had cried was right there, alone in that dark closet, scared that they would find me and send me to foster care or juvie. I had been to foster care before when I was nine and it was fucking hell. I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to be in a cage like everyone else, either. So I hid. I hid and I waited for hours, quietly crying on the floor, clutching my backpack and bag to me.