Wicked Innocence

by Missy Johnson

  “Pain is life. You can’t avoid it. It’s how you find the strength to go on that shapes you as a person. Without pain, you can’t live.” I shrugged.

  He shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Are you sure you’re only twenty-one? Sometimes I feel you’ve lived more than I have.”

  I chuckled, the irony of his comment not lost on me. “Somehow I doubt that’s possible. You’re the ex king of rock.”

  “Wasn’t that Elvis?” he joked. “Seriously, though, you amaze me.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping downward as he swallowed hard. “I want to suggest something. I want you to think about it before you say no, because I really think it could help you.”

  “What?” I asked nervously. My body tensed as I waited for him to continue.

  “I think you should speak to Nate. As in sit down and really speak to him. I think it could help both of you.”

  My eyes widened. Speak to Nate? I couldn’t do that. The pain was too raw. Just seeing him yesterday had almost broken me. What good would come from talking to him? I’d sat through every day of the court hearing. I’d heard his story and I’d looked him in the eye as I gave my victim’s statement and told him how badly his actions had hurt me.

  “Just think about it, M. I think it could give you the closure you need.”

  I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

  But I already knew the answer was going to be no.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Micah

  Why had I agreed to this?

  “Are you ready?”

  I nodded at Sax. His grip on my hand tightened slightly, letting me know he was there for me. My heart pounded as we walked into the room. Nate sat at the table. I almost laughed. He looked more nervous than me.

  Three days ago when Sax had suggested this, I’d been dead against it. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right—I did need closure. And though meeting with Nate was a step in that direction, deep down I knew the only person who could give me the closure I needed was my mother. That was something I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready for.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Sax whispered in my ear.

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure I could do this alone. We walked over to the table.

  Sax pulled out one of the wooden chairs for me and I sat down. “I’ll be over there if you need me, okay?”

  I closed my eyes as he kissed my head.

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here,” Nate confessed. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him. “I’m sorry. About what happened. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about what happened and wish I could’ve changed things.”

  Me too.

  “Why him?” I asked.

  “He was there.” His voice cracked. “Dom—one of the older guys in the group—started picking on him. When he didn’t react, he started to push him. A few of the others joined in. I didn’t touch him,” he whispered.

  “But you didn’t stop them.”

  “No. I didn’t.” He wiped his eyes. “I’m not trying to make excuses. I fucked up. But I was a kid. I was eleven—the same age as your brother. The guys I ran with were bad news. They’d have probably killed me too if I’d stood up to them. But I’ll never forgive myself for doing nothing.”

  “How long were you in juvie for?” I asked.

  “Twelve months,” he replied, his face coloring.

  I snorted. Twelve months. My brother was dead and he got twelve months? Where was the justice in that? The only saving grace was that the older members of the gang had been tried—and convicted—as adults and were serving life sentences.

  “And now? What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m back at school. I-I want to help kids. I want to be a social worker.”

  I nodded. I stood up, realizing I had nothing left to say. Nate watched me, his expression alarmed, as I walked over to Sax.

  “Let’s go,” I mumbled, taking his hand.

  He nodded and opened the door.

  As we walked out, I turned back to Nate. “I hope you make something of yourself. I do believe you’re sorry for what happened. I hope you use that and help kids like you say you want to.”

  I walked out without waiting for his response.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sax

  “Thanks for helping me do this. I think you were right. I needed to face what happened.” She smiled at me and I forced myself to smile back, but inside, my heart was racing.

  It couldn’t be right. I had to have misheard.

  “I hope it helped,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. All I could focus on was what I’d heard Nate say.

  His words played over and over in my mind—words I wish I could’ve unheard, because they changed everything. My heart pounded as I tried to form in my head the question I knew I needed to ask.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Nate had said her brother was the same age as him.

  She’d said her brother had been three years younger than her.

  But that didn’t add up because Nate was only fourteen.

  It didn’t fucking make sense.

  Unless she lied to me.

  Holy fuck. My hands clenched the steering wheel. No fucking way. She couldn’t be seventeen. I’d fucking know if I was fucking a fucking seventeen-year-old.

  Holy fucking shit.

  ***

  We walked into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter as she wrapped her arms around me. I groaned as her lips met mine. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn’t good.

  “Wait,” I said, pushing her away.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her lips forming a pout. A fucking sexy pout.

  I pushed myself off from the counter and walked around the other side. I needed space to think. If I asked her, then it was out there. I couldn’t un-ask. But maybe I didn’t want to know. I’d seen her fucking license. That was no fake.

  If she wasn’t who she said she was, then she’d gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to change things. Once I asked her, it was out there. Maybe it was better for me not to know. Things could go on like they were, with me ignorant to the fact that I was fucking a minor.

  “Nothing,” I muttered. I walked over to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” She was watching me. She could tell something was up, I could see it in the way she was staring at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just feeling a little off,” I mumbled. I needed to get her out of there, but I couldn’t just kick her out. Not after what she’d just been through. But if she stayed much longer I was going to confront her, and I wasn’t sure either of us was ready for that.

  My body stiffened as her arms curled around my waist. I didn’t pull away—I couldn’t.

  She lifted herself up onto her toes, her lips brushing over mine. “Should you be lying down or something?” she asked, concerned.

  My heart pounded as my hands found her, my fingers raking through her thick hair as I tasted her kiss. My head was screaming at me how wrong this was—but my heart refused to listen. I didn’t know anything for sure yet, and the longer I put off asking her, the longer I could go on kidding myself.

  “Probably a good idea,” I said, my voice hoarse. I pushed her away and turned, resting my hands palms-down on the counter. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked her. Why did I suddenly feel like the world’s biggest asshole? Fuck.

  She nodded. “Yeah. I should probably check in on Dee, anyway. Will I see you at the show later?”

  “Sure,” I mumbled. “I’ll be there.”

  I opened my eyes. It took me a minute to realize I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. The afternoon sun was streaming down on me through the window, so I knew I couldn’t have been sleeping for too long. I fumbled for my phone and saw two missed calls from Dad.

  Sighing, I sat up. I clicked on his number and put the phone to my ear, waiting.

  “Saxon, how are you?”

>   “Good, Dad, what’s up?” I asked.

  “What, I can’t call my son for a chat?” he laughed.

  You never have before.

  “Sure you can, but you’re not exactly the small talk kind of guy,” I said, my voice dry.

  He laughed. “Okay, you’ve got me there. I just wanted to see how things were going. Harry mentioned you secured them a gig at LA Music Festival singing backup for a pretty big band.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I still had no idea where this conversation was going.

  “It would’ve been nice to hear about that from you. That’s just the kind of thing I was talking about. You’re really making a go of this managing thing. Your mom and I are proud of you.”

  Happy that I’m no longer an embarrassment, you mean.

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it,” I said, rubbing my eyes. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the band, because all I could think about was her. “Look, I gotta go. The guys are performing tonight and I still have some shit to organize.”

  “Of course. Will you come over for dinner this weekend? It would make your mom happy.”

  “Sure,” I agreed. “See you then.”

  After I got off the phone, I grabbed my keys and walked out the door, knowing what I had to do. There was only one way to find out the truth: I had to speak to someone who knew her back then.

  ***

  Nate looked surprised to see me. I would’ve too, considering I was standing on his front doorstep with my hands shoved in my pockets. I’d given him a lift home one day after his mother had to work late.

  “Sax,” he mumbled. He glanced down, refusing to look me in the eye. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just wanted to ask you a couple of things.”

  “Is this about her brother?” he said. He held the door open for me and I walked inside. He glanced around, embarrassed. “Sorry, the place is a mess.”

  It wasn’t. In fact, there wasn’t a thing out of place. I got the feeling he was embarrassed by the lack of possessions he and his mother had.

  “It’s cleaner than my house,” I said honestly. “Look, I’m not here to hassle you, Nate. I know better than anyone how a single moment can shape the rest of your life. I just thought you might need someone to talk to. Seeing Mica—” I stopped myself as it dawned on me he hadn’t called her Micah that day. “Seeing Mikayla must’ve been a shock for you.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. He slumped down onto a scruffy, worn armchair that sat under the window and pointed at the sofa, which was a mismatched old green vinyl.

  I sat down, the bars from under the worn out cushion digging into my backside. “You’ve never spoken much about your past.”

  “Because that’s exactly what it is: my past. Only it never really stays that way, does it?”

  No. I guess not.

  “You were eleven when it happened?” I said, clearing my throat.

  He nodded, picking imaginary bits of lint off the arm of the chair. “I was being bullied by some kids in school, so I thought joining the gang would protect me.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I was actually just glad it wasn’t me they were picking on when they started hassling Peter. Then they started really giving it to him. I was so scared, but I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t or it would have been me next.”

  “Nate, we all make mistakes. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. The real test is what you do afterwards. Have you learned from what happened? You can’t fix it, but you can decide where your life heads after it.”

  He nodded. “And I am. I’m trying. I go to school. I come home. I think about that kid every day. Seeing his sister today…” He shook his head and wiped his red eyes. “I remember the way she looked at me in the courtroom. I’ll never forget that.”

  I hesitated. I couldn’t push this kid for more information on Micah. I felt sorry for him, but at the same time I hated him for the hurt he’d caused her. I saw so much of myself in this kid. I stood up and smiled at him.

  “Will I see you back at the refuge?”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again once you found out what happened,” he said quietly.

  “Nate, I’ll be pissed if I don’t see you back there, okay?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

  ***

  My fingers drummed along the edge of the coffee table as I waited for my laptop to load. I sat hunched over on the sofa, my forearms resting on my knees. Fuck. I’m shaking. I clicked Google and typed in ‘foster care,’ ‘murdered,’ and ‘eleven.’

  Hits filled the page and I slowly scanned each one, waiting for something to jump out at me. My stomach tightened, reading through report after report of children that had died while in care.

  Fuck me.

  Halfway down the third page of results, I saw it.

  ‘Eight charged over murder of 11-year-old boy over a pair of new shoes.’

  “Bingo,” I muttered, clicking on the link.

  Eight boys, some as young as eleven, have been charged with the murder of 11-year-old Peter Hale who was fatally beaten for his shoes on his way home from the mall.

  Witnesses called an ambulance, but the victim could not be revived. He suffered a fatal blow to his spleen, as well as three fractured ribs and a broken pelvis.

  The victim and his 14-year-old sister were in state care when the incident happened. This is the fourth incident this year resulting in the death of a child while in state care. A spokesperson for child services said that while the incident is being investigated, preliminary reports suggest the caregiver was not guilty of any wrongdoing.

  I sat back and groaned as I ran my hands through my hair. It was right there in black and white: she was seventeen. She’d lied to me. Who knew what her reasons were? Maybe she just wanted to fuck with me. Maybe it had all been a ploy to get into the band.

  Fuck. I had no idea what to do now.

  ***

  I stood at the bar, listening to the band play as I downed my third straight whiskey. There was no way this was going to end well, but I needed to do something to drown out her damn voice. Only it didn’t seem to matter how much I drank. My head was full of thoughts of Her. And fuck, I was angry. So fucking angry.

  “Another,” I ordered, slamming the empty glass down on the counter. The bar dude raised an eyebrow at me, but refilled my glass.

  Yeah, you just keep filling it. You’re not being paid to fucking judge me.

  He slid the glass across the bar to me. “Are you all right, man?” he asked with a sympathetic smile.

  “Fucking dandy,” I grumbled, downing the contents of the glass in one hit. My eyes watered as the liquid slid down my throat, slowly wearing away at the pain. Maybe this was what I deserved. I’d fucked up so many lives that I didn’t deserve happiness.

  I cradled my head in my hands as her voice broke through me again. The song ended and the crowd cheered. I couldn’t handle this anymore. I had no fucking idea why I’d even come. Grabbing my phone and my keys, I stumbled off the stool and walked toward the exit.

  “Sax!”

  Shit. I kept walking, pretending I hadn’t heard her. Only I couldn’t ignore her fingers when they curled around my arm, pulling me back. I sighed and turned around.

  She smiled at me, her brow furrowed. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You were going to leave without saying hi?”

  “Yeah, I guess I was,” I muttered, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket. My head was spinning and all I wanted to do was block out everything.

  “Have you been drinking? You’re drunk,” she accused.

  Her hand reached out for mine and I pulled away, stumbling back. She was too close.

  “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

  “It’s fucking bullshit. I’m going home,” I muttered, shaking my head. I felt the keys slip from my hands.

  “You’re not driving anywhere. Come on, I’ll take you home.” She stalked out, leaving me no choice but to follow her.

  “Are you going t
o tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She stared straight ahead, her eyes not leaving the road.

  “Nothing. Just leave it.”

  “Leave it? How can I leave it when you’re like this?” she asked angrily.

  She turned the wheel sharply, sending my head into the side window. Fuck, that hurt. I reached up and rubbed it, before I looked around and realized we were in front of my house. Unclasping my seatbelt and opened my door and headed for the house without saying a word.

  “Sax!” she cried out. “Will you stop acting like a fucking five-year-old and talk to me? Have I done something wrong?”

  I turned around and laughed. She wanted me to stop acting like a child?

  “When were you born, Micah? What year did you graduate from high school? How old were you when your brother died? When were you going to tell me you’re only fucking seventeen!” I shouted, my anger exploding.

  Her eyes widened with shock as she stared at me, flustered. “H-how did you know?” she whispered.

  “Does it matter?” I laughed. “Was this all some big joke to you? Fucking hell, you’re a minor. I broke the fucking law for you. I can’t . . . just go. Please.”

  She threw her hand over her mouth as she stumbled backwards. “Sax, please. Let me—”

  “No. You don’t get to do this. Take my car, whatever, just go. I can’t look at you right now,” I muttered. Opening the front door, I turned and tossed the keys at her. I walked inside and slammed the door shut.

  Fuck. Leaning against the door, I slid down until my ass hit the floor. With my knees tucked up to my chest, I cradled my head. The worst thing was I was so fucking crazy about this girl. She was perfect for me and I had fallen for her, and fallen hard.

  As angry I was, nothing dulled the pain I was feeling right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Micah

  “Wow,” Dee muttered, her eyes wide. “Just wow.”