Bruised Knuckles and Empty Lies

Chapter 7

Alex's POV

We pulled up to a local coffee shop, and Morgan turned off the car but didn't get out, so neither did I.

"You okay, kid?" Morgan asked after a few long seconds. I met his eyes and he glanced down at my knee. I followed his gaze and noticed that I was subconsciously bouncing it to get rid of some nervous energy.

Forcing my leg to stop, I muttered a quick "Sorry."

"Sweetheart, you got nothing to be sorry about." I shifted a little, as I had been doing for the majority of the ride. These leather seats were really not helping my sore ass. "You wanna talk in here or go inside? We will be talking, either one you choose."

I had to take a second to weigh my options. The car would give us some more privacy, but by the looks of this parking lot, privacy wouldn't be an issue inside, either. Going inside might help me not lash out because of peer pressure and social constructs. Plus, he offered to pay. Might as well take him up on that.

"Inside," I finally decided.

"Okay," he agreed with a softer tone than before. He studied me for a second before getting out of the car. I knew he was trying to figure me out. I just had to decide if I was gonna let him.

I got out of the car and followed him to the entrance, where he opened the door for me and let me go in first. On first glance, I noticed all the local artwork hung on the walls, and the two people who were in here both had headphones and were typing away on their laptops.

"I'll order the drinks. Can you find us a couple of seats?" Morgan's question shook me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, sure," I agreed.

"What do you want, kid? And 'nothing' is not an option."

"Um, maybe hot chocolate. With cinnamon, if that's okay."

"You got it, sweetheart," he replied before crossing the shop to get to the counter. I scanned the tables, trying to decide which one I wanted. I ended up choosing a table near the window, but not directly next to it, and I sat down, waiting for Morgan. Every now and then, he would glance over at me, probably making sure I wouldn't make a run for it. Honestly, I was too tired for that. Not physically, but mentally. I pulled my earbud out of my ear and paused my music. I didn't want to seem rude, especially since he was paying for my drink.

After a few minutes of trying to ignore the sting of the seat against my butt, Morgan came back carrying both drinks, each one in a paper cup with a lid and a cozy around it.

"Thanks," I said as he handed me my drink and sat down across from me. Holding my hot chocolate with both hands trying to warm myself up, I didn't dare take a sip. It felt boiling hot against my hands, which was comforting, in a way.

"You wanna tell me why you picked the only table without padded chairs?"

"Didn't even notice," I lied.

"You're too smart for that and we both know it. What, is this some kind of self-punishment?"

"Is this some kind of interrogation?" I shot back, raising my eyes to meet his. He seemed angry, and I couldn't quite tell if his anger was toward me or toward whatever he thought was going on with me.

"You have a lot of anger for someone so young," he commented, taking me by surprise.

"You'd have a lot of anger, too if-," I replied instantly, mentally scolding myself for almost coming clean. Although, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"If what, Alex?" he asked carefully.

"Nothing. Never mind," I deflected. He sighed and drank a few sips of his coffee before speaking again.

"Okay, I get it. How about you tell me about your day instead?" He thought he was being slick by slowly gaining my trust enough for me to open up. I don't know. Maybe I'll let him.

"I got home and um," I started, remembering what happened. I chose to leave that part out. "I helped Maribeth, my foster mom, get things ready for her prayer group. For prayer group, she makes me dress up in the ugliest dress I've ever seen," I laughed a little, making Morgan smile.

"Come on, it can't be that bad," he chuckled.

"No, trust me. It's black with little flowers and long sleeved and hits at my knees in the most unflattering way possible. I had to put my hair in a bun, too. Ugh, I hate Sundays."

"What happened at prayer group?"

"Nothing. Literally nothing. The old ladies talked and gossipped and ate these obnoxiously small sandwiches while I had to sit there for the full hour and just zone out. Then after they all left, I had to clean up and spilled something on my dress, thank god, so I could change out of it and wear this instead, which isn't my style, but it's better than the other dress by a mile." My hot chocolate finally felt cool enough to drink, so I took a small sip of it to make sure. It was only moderately scalding, so I drank more.

"What'd you do next?"

"I went to church for my 'therapy session,'" I mocked, taking another sip of my hot chocolate.

"Therapy? For what? If you don't mind me asking," Morgan backpedaled. He seemed concerned with making sure I was comfortable.

"Ever heard of conversion therapy?" I chuckled. My humor was my shield. What happened today was still fresh in my mind, and if I let myself admit how much it hurt, I might break down, and I refused to let that happen. Morgan's more playful demeanor instantly shifted.

"What?" he almost whispered, concern all over his face. He shifted his weight so he was no longer resting against the back of the chair. "Alex..." Oh shit.

"It's no big deal," I shrugged, hoping to deescalate the situation a little. Shit, I fucked up.

"Don't tell me he...does he..."

"No, no nothing like that," I reassured him quickly. "I'm pretty sure I'm too old for him now anyway," I joked, hoping to make light of the situation. Fuck, I screwed up big time. Morgan's fists were clenched, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Even if it was a big deal, which it's not, you couldn't charge him," I tried to reason.

"The hell you mean I can't charge him?" Morgan started raising his voice. "Conversion therapy's banned here. I can get him put away for a long time."

"No, I..." I took a deep breath, choosing my next words very carefully. "He made me sign something saying it was just a 'one-on-one Bible study.' Maribeth and Dave signed it, too. And it, um," I fought with myself, trying to figure out if I should say it or if it would just make him mad. Morgan was staring me down with a clenched jaw. I decided against telling him that part.

"Can-can we talk about something else?" I asked, connecting eyes with him. He instantly softened.

"Sweetheart, if he-"

"Please?" I cut him off. Morgan sighed, shaking his head and talking another swig of his coffee. Remembering the beginning of my day again, I mentioned, "Maybe we can talk about how you called CPS."

"Alex," Morgan sighed, "I really thought they would help you out. But you didn't talk, did you?"

"Look, as shitty as this place is, I only have a few months left. I can take it," I argued. "I've seen my file, and I know I'm 'high risk' so if I get out of this house, no one'll want me, and I'll end up in a high risk group home."

"Are group homes really that bad?"

"I'd rather be homeless than live in a group home," I answered bluntly. I know what goes on in those, and I wasn't about to do that to myself. I doubt I'd even make it out alive.

Morgan's expression changed. He suddenly seemed almost...excited.

"You know what you need, kid? An outlet for all this teen angst of yours."

"That's great, but what is it?" I wasn't about to sign my soul away.

"You done with that?" he asked, gesturing to my hot chocolate. I nodded, and he took the empty cup from me. "Come on. We still got some time before you gotta be home." Might as well see where this is going. We both got up, and Morgan threw away the cups before holding the door open for me again. I smiled a thanks at him before walking outside. Whatever this is, it better be good.