Harder (Stark Ink Book 1)

by Dahlia West

  “I’m not going home.”

  Adam sighed. “Well, actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Hop in. I’ll give you a lift.”

  Once more Jonah hesitated, then ducked his head and skirted the car to the passenger side.

  As he slid into the seat, Adam waited for him to shut the door before he said, “I need you to be home more, at least for a little while. Ava can’t do it all alone.”

  Jonah frowned.

  “Look, we’re a family,” Adam pointed out.

  “It’s not that,” Jonah insisted.

  “Then what?”

  Jonah was quiet for a moment, then said, “I work out at a gym after work.”

  “Well, you can cut back.”

  “No. I mean, I pay for boxing lessons.”

  Adam sat back in his seat, surprised. Jonah had gotten into fights quite often when he was a kid. In fact it was the reason he’d been shuffled between so many foster homes, but he’d just suddenly stopped shortly after coming to live with the Starks. He’d gotten into a few fights when he’d first arrived, but Adam hadn’t heard anything about it after those first few months. Maybe, though, old habits die hard. Possibly the last thing Jonah needed to do was start hitting people again.

  “Listen, Jonah, if…” Adam paused and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. If Jonah was having problems, the last thing he would want to do is talk about it. Prodding him was going to hit a dead end pretty quickly.

  “If you want,” Adam said, changing tactics, “I can pay for more lessons when things settle down. We really need to come together right now.”

  Jonah made another face but eventually conceded. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Do you, by any chance, know where Ava goes when she ditches school?” Adam asked suddenly. It was a long shot that Jonah would know anything at all, but it was worth asking anyway.

  Jonah’s eyebrows shot up. “Ditching? Nah. I didn’t even know she was.”

  Adam nodded glumly. “Sienna’s helping her.”

  “Sienna?” Jonah asked pointedly.

  Adam looked over at him. “Yeah. Why?”

  Jonah shook his head. “Nothing. She just doesn’t seem like the type to me. Ava, maybe.” He shrugged. “Not that I’d really know, I guess.”

  Adam sighed again. He agreed Sienna didn’t seem like the type to do something so stupid. “Well, something’s up. I’m going to talk to her about it tonight.”

  “Is Sienna going to be there? I mean, is it going to be a teenage-girl meltdown of epic proportions? Maybe I could stay at the gym just one more evening.”

  Adam shook his head. “No. No meltdowns. I’m just going to find out what’s up.” Adam was determined to help out the family, but one thing he didn’t do, would never do, was screaming teenage-girl meltdowns. Ava was going to take it on the chin, no matter what, and they’d move on. “I do need your help, though. There’s a lot to take care of. And it’s just been me so far.” Adam hated to play that card but it was the only one he had. He held his breath until Jonah grimaced.

  “I’ll help out more. I promise,” his younger brother said.

  Adam wound them through the city streets, getting Jonah to the gym faster than he would have taking the bus. Adam was impressed with the kid’s work ethic. He was working and saving for a car, just like Adam and Dalton had at his age. He still lived at home, but Adam knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t charge him rent. Not as long as he did chores to pull his weight. Working at a hardware store wouldn’t bring in much cash. Adam glanced at his youngest brother’s black apron. Surely it wasn’t Jonah’s dream job.

  What did Jonah dream about for himself? It felt like too big a question.

  “How’s the job?” Adam asked instead.

  Another shrug. “Fine. My boss can be a dick. He’s always having us stack palettes in the morning and move them in the afternoon. Getting fucking old.”

  “Don’t hit him.”

  Jonah snorted. “It’s tempting.”

  Adam couldn’t tell if Jonah was joking or not. It seemed best to err on the side of caution. “You’re an adult. No juvie, just jail.”

  Jonah had never been to juvie. People had too much sympathy for him as a kid. They didn’t want him around because of his belligerent nature, but neither did they want to throw him in kiddie jail.

  “I know it,” Jonah replied. “If he ever got in the ring, I’d bust his face.” A devious smile spread across his lips. “Maybe I’ll invite him for a friendly bout.”

  “Probably a bad idea.”

  “He never do it anyway. He’s about as wide as he is tall. He couldn’t get into the ring.”

  Adam laughed and for the first time noticed that Jonah was no longer the scrawny kid he’d watched grow up. Jonah was tall, as tall as himself, and shameful as it was to admit, Jonah had more muscle definition.

  Jonah caught him looking and an awkward moment stretched out between them.

  “What?” Jonah asked coldly.

  “Nothing,” Adam insisted. “You—you work out a lot? I mean…” He cleared his throat. “I mean that’s all you…, right?” He hesitated and decided there was no point in keeping secrets. “Dalton’s been downing booze like it’s his job. In fact, he might be losing his job because of it. I just—I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Jonah considered his words for a long moment then blew out a breath. “Jesus. Dalton? I mean, I knew he was a party guy, but still.” Jonah shook his head. “Mort, the guy who runs the gym, makes us a take a piss test. You want the paperwork?”

  Adam had to admit it was tempting. Not so much because he didn’t trust Jonah, just that every other damn thing was out of his control right now and it would be nice to know that at least one thing was the way it should be, but he shook his head. “No. Sorry. Everything’s just so fucked right now. I don’t need any more family members going over the edge.” The car shook slightly as they crossed the tracks. “We are family, Jonah.”

  It was probably as close to a heart-to-heart as they might ever get. Adam held his breath and waited.

  “I know,” Jonah said, surprising him. “Mom was… an angel. The old man, too, in his own way.”

  “So you’ll be home tonight?”

  Jonah’s face darkened again. “I don’t want to back out of a lesson at the last minute. I’ll be late getting home again, but it’ll be the last time. I’ll make it work. Starting tomorrow.”

  Adam took him at his word and nodded. He pulled up in front of the warehouse-turned-gym and put the Charger in park. Jonah levered his hulking frame out of the door and shut it behind him. As he headed inside, Adam marveled at the idea of Jonah taking boxing lessons. Fighting with rules had never been the boy’s forte. Adam had been secretly worried when his mom and dad had taken the boy in. He was violent, never with his foster parents, but still. Jonah had further cemented Adam’s fears by taking a swing at a neighborhood boy just days after moving in. Mom and Dad had taken him to a shrink after that. Adam didn’t know the details, but he knew the visit hadn’t gone well. Mom had been particularly upset about the failed intervention, but almost miraculously, Jonah had straightened up, probably having realized that he’d found a safe place he could actually call home.

  As Adam pulled away from the curb, he felt determined to make sure that even though Mom was gone, Jonah always felt like a member of the family.

  Chapter Nine

  Adam pulled up in front of the house and killed the Charger’s engine. On his way to the front door he debated himself—as he had on the drive over—about what to tell Pop, if anything at all. Dalton going over the edge and Ava’s problems with school might be too much for the old man to handle. Or it might be something to focus on rather than dwelling on Mom right now. Perhaps once they’d sorted out the Stark family’s issues, Pop would have had enough time to view Mom’s passing with a little perspective. Perhaps he’d be able to talk about it by then.

  He twisted the doorknob and stepped inside. He heard the TV on in the living room
and decided to test the waters before diving in with both feet. As he turned from the entryway into the living room, he stopped short when he spotted Ava in the kitchen beyond. Ignoring Pop for the moment, he strode past the couch and toward the breakfast bar that separated the two rooms.

  “Why are you home?” he asked, startling her.

  Ava turned and gaped at him. “There’s no way you got home this fast.”

  Technically, yes, school was out for the day, but Ava had no car of her own and took the bus to and from school. Even if she’d gotten a ride from someone, she still couldn’t have gotten here this soon after dismissal.

  “Why are you here?!” Ava replied. “I said five!”

  Adam glared at her. “You don’t tell me what to do, Ava!” He realized that she had a pot on the stove already. What the hell? he thought. She’s cooking dinner?

  “There’s stuff to do,” she said vaguely.

  “Bullshit. Laundry’s done; I did it myself. And the dishes.” He eyed her position at the stove. “You’re skipping school every day to play Donna Reed? What the hell, Ava? Where’s Sienna? Did she skip too this time? Or does she just doctor your record for you?”

  Ava gasped. “You know?”

  “Yes, Ava. I know. The school knows, too. They sent two notices, remember?”

  She glared at him. “I said I would handle it.”

  “Well, it doesn’t really work that way, Ava. You’re the kid. You don’t get to handle it.”

  “I’m not a kid!”

  “You’re seventeen! And I hate to break it to you, but that makes you a kid. And lying to me—and Pop—is not handling anything.”

  “I’ve got a list of my assignments,” Ava argued. “I was going to turn them in at the end of the month. They were going to get done!”

  “Why are you shouting?” Pop grumbled as he shuffled past Adam and into the kitchen. Adam stared at him. He was right here, listening to the whole thing. Or had he been too focused on the TV again?

  “Ava’s ditching school, Pop. For some reason I’ve yet to hear. And I know it’s not a good time right now but—”

  “We’re out of pickles,” Pop declared, looking into the refrigerator.

  Adam sighed. “Pop, she’s about to be suspended.”

  “Suspended?” Ava asked. The wooden spoon hovered in mid-air. Sauce dripped onto the linoleum. “What about Sienna?”

  “She’s in deep shit, too,” Adam informed her.

  “I should call her.”

  “The hell you are! We’re going to talk about this right now, Ava. Pop, we need to deal with this. It’s serious.”

  Pop shut the fridge door and looked at Ava. “I need pickles for my sandwich.”

  Instead of answering Pop, Ava stepped around him and advanced on Adam. “Just leave!” she shouted, and pointed at the door. You don’t live here!”

  Adam took a step back and stared at her for a moment. “Ava, what the hell?”

  “Just get out!” she cried. “I’ll talk to Dad about it myself!”

  Adam stared at her in disbelief. “What in the hell is going on here?” he demanded.

  “Just go!”

  Adam looked back and forth between his father and Ava, completely at a loss for words. “Why—”

  “Miriam,” Pop said to Ava’s back. He looked around the kitchen fervently. “We’re out of pickles again.”

  The old man shuffled in his socked feet out of the kitchen and back into the living room. He flopped back onto the couch and turned the volume up on the television. Adam stared at him until Ava’s sobs finally drew his attention back to his kid sister. “Ava?” he whispered.

  Ava buried her face in her hands and continued to cry.

  Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry. Possibly he never had. He rubbed the back of his neck slowly trying to work out the knot there.

  “He gets confused,” she said quietly. “Usually toward the late afternoon. Mom started noticing it a few months ago. It wasn’t really bad then. He’d just forget to put the lawn mower away. Or go outside without his shoes on. Some days are better than others.”

  Adam looked back toward his aging father. Alzheimer’s? Dementia? Could the old man really be that old? Adam didn’t think so. He was still young, still capable of so much.

  “After a while it got worse,” Ava said quietly. “Mom needed help. I—I told her I had flex classes.”

  “What’s a flex class?” he asked dumbly, still staring at the old man, then back to Ava.

  She shrugged. “I made it up. I told her I had afternoons off. I helped her around the house, helped her with Pop.”

  Adam balled up his hands before they started to shake noticeably. “Why? Why would you do that, Ava? Why would you lie about all this?”

  “I didn’t mean to! It just got out of hand so fast and then Mom got sick! Jonah’s never around! It’s always just me! I didn’t know what to do!”

  He slammed his hand on the counter and turned on her fully. “Don’t put this on Jonah! Don’t you dare! If you knew shit like this was happening to Pop, you should have said something. You owe it to us to let us know! I can’t believe you’d lie like this.”

  “I had to!”

  “Why? We’d help you. We’re family!”

  “You’re gone,” she pointed out again. “You don’t live here! Dalton’s gone. Jonah’s never here. It’s just me, Adam! I’m the only one.”

  “But lying—”

  “This is the only family I have and I’m not going to lose it!”

  Before Adam could even formulate a response, a softer voice came from behind him.

  “Hello?”

  He turned to see Calla Winslow standing awkwardly in the doorway. She took in the scene, looking back and forth between Ava, Adam, and Pop still sitting on the couch.

  Adam didn’t know whether to step in front of Ava and try to shield her from her own mess or block Calla’s view of the living room where Pop was eyeing her curiously. He stood frozen.

  “Do I know you?” Pop asked over the television.

  Calla shook her head and spoke slowly. “No, Mr. Stark. We haven’t met yet.”

  Pop nodded. “You must be one of Miriam’s friends. From Church.”

  Calla stepped further into the living room. “No, Mr. Stark, my name is Calla Winslow. I’m the guidance counselor at Ava’s school.”

  Adam watched Pop consider the woman standing beside him for a long moment. “Okay,” he said finally. “Miriam’s not here.”

  “I know, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry.”

  Pop shrugged. “She’ll be right back. She’s at the store getting pickles.”

  Chapter Ten

  Adam was vaguely aware that Ava had run past him and into her room down the hall. Even the sound of her slamming her door seemed muted, miles away from where he stood watching his old man. Old man. He wasn’t quite seventy, not just yet, and though Adam thought of his father as “the old man” he’d never really viewed him as old. He would have assumed the stress of the last few days had triggered some kind of denial, but it had been happening for months? And why hadn’t his mother told them? Why hadn’t she asked for help? Had he really been so disconnected?

  “Adam?”

  The sound of Calla’s voice drew his gaze away. “Let’s go outside,” she suggested and grasped the doorknob.

  Reluctantly, Adam stepped away from the couch—and Pop—and followed her to the front porch. The click of the door was jarring. He fought down a sudden wave of panic. He stepped away and crossed to the window, anxious to keep Pop in his line of sight.

  “I’m sorry,” Calla declared. “Ava wasn’t in her last class again this afternoon so I decided to do a home visit. I would have knocked but I heard yelling. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.”

  Adam still couldn’t bring himself to look away from his father. “She told me she’d be in class,” he replied. “But she came home instead. I guess she always comes home. To be with him.”

  “
So…” Calla asked cautiously, “this isn’t related to your mother? His difficulty handling it all? He’s… not taking any medication… or…?”

  Adam finally turned away from the window to stare at Calla. “Medication? No, Ms. Winslow, he’s not on any medication. And he doesn’t do drugs, either.”

  She looked surprised.

  He glared at her. “What?! You see this house, this neighborhood, the tattoos, the bikes out front and you just write us off as white trash? Well, we’re not trash. We’re just poor. That’s not an actual crime, Ms. Winslow.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she countered. “I’m not judging you, Adam. Or your father. I’m just trying to look out for Ava.”

  “I look out for Ava.” But that was a lie. He hadn’t up until now. He was going to, though. He’d already decided—days ago—before all this. Adam would take care of Ava. And Dalton. And Jonah. And… Pop.

  “How long has his mental state been… shaky?”

  Adam fought the urge to snort at her question. Shaky? Shaky didn’t seem to quite cover it. Not by a long shot. Pop was alternating between thinking Mom was just out running errands to thinking that Ava was Mom. They had both had blond hair, but Adam couldn’t pretend that it was merely a slip of the tongue. Adam could no longer avoid looking at what was right in front of him.

  “Adam?’

  “Months. A few months, she said.”

  “And you didn’t know?”

  Adam clenched his fists, ready to rail at her again. Of course he hadn’t known. Hadn’t he spent over an hour in her office today explaining to her what a shit brother he was? How could she possibly be surprised that he was a shit son, too? But had he known? Had he seen but ignored signs? His belly clenched as a memory floated to the surface. “Once, this spring,” he told Calla, “I was working on his bike with him. He called me Dalton. All afternoon.” Adam rubbed his face and frowned. “But that happened so much when we were kids. Mostly when he was pissed off. I—I didn’t even think anything of it.”

  He racked his brain, trying to recall other hints, but remembered none. Why hadn’t Mom said anything? But the answer was obvious. The shop. He’d been too goddamn busy. And Dalton? Jesus, Dalton was apparently a fucking drunk and Mom turned to Ava. Little Ava who was a junior in high school and had no business being responsible for all this.