Chapter Twelve (Ethan's POV)

Shit, shit, shit!

Lucas looked at me immediately, his expression helpless. I quickly let him off my lap and scrambled to grab up one of his sweatshirts, tossing it to him. He threw it on, grabbing for a pair of pajama pants that were lying on the floor, jerking them on. He almost tripped, but I caught him under his arms and helped him up.

He jerked the hood over his head and quickly went to the door, hearing Rick's impatient knocking.

I quickly snatched the book off the nightstand and sat on the bed casually, keeping the book in my lap to the hide the problem in my pants that wouldn't quit.

Lucas opened the door, but Rick didn't step in, just stood outside the door, frowning.

"You're still here?" He asked in irritation when his eyes flickered to me. I leaned back on my hand, holding the book carefully as I grinned at him.

"Yup."

"Damn, you're irritating," Rick muttered dryly, then looked at Lucas, who stared up at him blankly, "I was going to talk to you about something, but I'll do it after I take Ethan home." I felt a bolt of ice go up my spine as he said that.

"Home?" I managed to ask. Rick raised an eyebrow.

"School night, jocky. I don't want you here on the week days too." He responded sharply. I looked at Lucas, who returned my look of dread. I hesitantly slid off the bed, feeling far from aroused now. I was nervous and sick to my stomach.

I was finally going to die. Rick Patterson was going to kill me. He was going to run me over with his gorgeous Harley, then chuck my body in the swamps until I decayed. I shuddered at the thought as I set the book down, drifting to the door. Rick stepped aside, folding his arms over his chest and giving me a nasty look that told me I was so far beneath him, I was invisible.

I started to go out, but Lucas caught my arm. I looked at him and he just stared at me for a moment before he stood on his toes, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. I could just feel the hatred radiating off Rick like a fucking furnace. I didn't want to fuel the monster's rage and just gave Lucas a small smile before he let go of me.

I followed Rick downstairs, taking my time as Rick grabbed his leather jacket off the hook, throwing it on and looking even more threatening than before.

Fantastic.

We walked outside and instead of going anywhere near the Harley that sat in all its glory in the open garage, we went to a 2012 Chevy Camaro. The sleek black finish glinted in the setting sun and I swore, I almost got a hard on for that car.

Of course, the car wasn't Lucas, so it wasn't as passionate.

"Nice car." I said as I walked around to the passenger's side. Rick cocked a brow at me, then shrugged.

"She's okay. Would've preferred the 2012 Porsche 911, but I ran out of cash. Had to spend the rest on the house." He drawled, then plopped behind the wheel. I sat in the passenger's seat silently as the engine roared to life. He tore backwards out of the driveway, making my stomach just about jump out my mouth.

This guy was psychotic.

We drove down the road, just barely matching the speed limit. The only sound was Nazareth's Hair of the Dog thumping through the speakers and the engine purring as we came along to an intersection.

"I know I'm basically God and everything," Rick said suddenly, "But I'm not psychic. Where's your house, kid?"

"Oh, uh," I glanced around at the surroundings and street names, "Just... Uhm, actually, could you take me to Nick's place?" Rick gave me a weird look. Of course, it wasn't different than any other weird look he gave me. This one just sort of asked if I was nuts or not.

"Your parents are probably going to have a cow, fuck no. I don't want my ass fried over something you did."

"They don't care." I answered honestly. Rick studied me for a moment, then looked out the windshield, rolling his eyes.

"Sure, like I haven't heard that before. Besides, I haven't had the displeasure of taking Nick home. He avoids me like the plague."

"Well, gee, maybe if you weren't such a psycho, he would actually stand your presence." I blurted, then immediately regretted it. It was like making a sarcastic remark to a giant rabid bear. However, Rick surprised me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk that tore across his face so evilly, he could've made Satan wet his pants.

"I'm Mr. Psycho, kid. Anyway, stop stalling. I only have so much gas and it'd suck ass to waste it on a conversation with you."

"Ugh," I gestured to the right, "Take this road all the way to that suburb called Catalina. It's the fourth house on the right." Rick nodded and turned, driving on in silence. The whole way, my stomach was clenching.

Maybe after he dropped me off, I could just walk the four blocks to Nick's place? Then again, he'd probably wait until I went inside. I really did not wanna go inside. It was Sunday. My parents would be home, knowing my luck. Sunday was the only day my dad hung around long enough to do something and my mother usually stayed home or went to the spa with her weird lawyer friends.

Rick pulled up the road into the Catalina suburb, his eyes searching before he found my house, pulling into the driveway and stopping the car. Before I could get out, though, he locked the doors.

Shit, I knew I was going to die.

"Why don't you wanna go home?" Rick asked, catching me off guard. I stared at him. What happened to hating my guts? Maybe I misheard him.

"What?" I asked for confirmation. Rick rolled his eyes, shutting the engine off and leaning back in his seat.

"What are you? Deaf? I'm not repeating myself, brat."

"Well, I mean... Why do you care?"

"Okay, just because I'm the psychotic guy who has dreams about tormenting you and your football boyfriend, doesn't mean I'm completely evil. And don't expect some noble speech about how I make it my duty in life to protect poor little brats like you from the awful life of abuse."

"I never said I was abused."

"You never said you weren't."

"Look, R- I mean, Mr. Patterson, sir. Thanks for asking, but I'd appreciate it if we kept our relationship at a mutual level of hate." I drawled, gripping the door handle and giving it a tug, only to find it was still locked. Rick sat back in his seat, rolling down his window as he got out a packet of cigarettes. I scrunched up my nose in disgust as he lit one up, blowing the smoke out the window, glancing at me out the corner of his eye.

"I have all day, football jocky. And plenty of cigarettes to keep me occupied. What about you?" He asked flatly. I glared at him.

"Nothing. There's nothing wrong. I just don't like coming home."

"You spend the night at Nick's almost every night, and the nights you don't, you're in jail."

"Who the hell-"

"Your friend Nick likes spewing his guts to Oliver when he thinks no one's listening. In fact, a lot of you idiots think I'm not listening or that I'm not there, when I am. I'm always there. I'm always listening. And I'm listening now." His voice took on a strange, different tone. He wasn't being cruel or nasty now. His voice sounded like he actually gave a damn. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, glancing out the window at my house.

I could tell my dad was home, his car was sitting in the driveway and I could see the television on in the living room. Which meant he was sitting there in his recliner with a bottle of beer, waiting for me to come inside.

What do I do?

Sit here and have the most awkward conversation with my boyfriend's uncle, or go inside and deal with a maniac.

Then again, Rick was a maniac too.

Or bipolar. One of those. I mean, one second he's the Hulk, now he's going daddy on me and I had no idea what to do. My own father never tried to have a serious conversation with me before. Well, serious conversations that were about me. And if they did involve me, it was always:

"Are you stupid?! An attention whore?! Do you have any idea how ugly a reputation it is for your mother and I to have a son that ends up in jail every month?! It's an embarrassment!"

"What? Are you retarded? Can't you do anything right?"

Most people would think that lowered my self-esteem, but it didn't. It just drove me away from them and what they wanted. It made me stronger in a way.

"I just don't like my parents." I answered at last. Rick frowned at me, leaning on his knee and cocking a brow at me.

"Why? They put a roof over your head, food in your stomach, clothes on your back, money in your wallet." He pressed. I felt like I was being suffocated. I didn't like this conversation. I didn't like this situation. I had never even told Nick, of all people, what went on at my house. The reason I left all the time. The reason I stayed the night at his house or preferred juvey.

"They're more like landlords," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully, "That's it. I had a job, but I lost it the third time I went to juvey. I've been looking, if that's what you want to hear."

"Nope. Keep going."

"There's nothing else to say."

"Sure there is. Just look at the way you're nibbling on your lip like a cannibalistic hamster."

"Mr. Patterson, thanks for pretending to care, but I really don't want to talk about it."

"Then how about I go inside and meet your parents? It would be awfully rude of me not to get to know the parents of my nephew's boyfriend, right?"

"Since when did you care about being rude or not?" I blurted, then winced inwardly. I seemed to be having a lot of suicidal tendencies lately. However, Rick surprised me again by not getting angry and just shrugged non-chalantly.

"Who said I was gonna be sugar and spice and everything nice to your parents?" Rick drawled, rolling his eyes as he flicked the cigarette onto the driveway. That was going to tick my dad off big time, but I was too focused on what he just said.

I shivered.

I'd never be able to take that saying seriously ever again after seeing Lucas wearing it on his shirt.

Him. In just a shirt and briefs.

Really tight briefs.

Wet-

"Can I please go inside now?" I asked, my voice strained. I had to stop fantasizing at the wrong times. It was going to get me in trouble. I watched as Rick lit up another cigarette, scanning my house from top to bottom. He narrowed his eyes as if he were thinking of something. His hand was resting on the steering wheel and slowly began to clench it, his knuckles turning white.

Was he pissed at me? What'd I do?

... Except be a smart ass, date his nephew, touch his nephew...

Wow, I really am a pervert.

"Mr. Patterson." I said. Rick blinked, his grip loosening on the wheel. It was like I snapped him out of his deep thinking before he frowned, hitting the unlock button.

"Forget it." He stated.

Sure thing, I wanted to scoff, but kept it to myself as I got out of the car. I walked around to head into my house, but Rick rolled his window down.

"Hey, brat!" He barked. I stiffened, glancing at him over my shoulder as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air outside.

"If it gets bad, let me know." He said, then rolled up the window. I blinked, confused for a second before I drifted up the steps to the door. And, just as I thought, Rick didn't pull out of the driveway until I opened the door and walked inside. I peeked out the window in the door, watching Rick reluctantly drive away.

I frowned, until I felt a strong grip on my shoulder, tearing me back. I was whirled around and slammed into the door. I found myself staring into my dad's black, glazed eyes. He had at least three days worth of beard on his face, his dishwater blonde hair sticking up in a way that would've been comical if he wasn't about to kill me.

"Where was you?" He demanded, then paused to burp into the crook of his elbow, letting go of me and backing up. I pushed off the door, rolling my shoulders to make sure he hadn't dislocated one.

"A friend's place." I answered.

Wrong answer, apparently.

The back of his hand cracked against my jaw before I could even see it. My head snapped to the side, pain bursting into my skull before settling to a dull throb.

"Don't lie to me," He sneered, rubbing his knuckles and flexing his wrist as if hurt him to hit me, "I know you ain't got no friends. Make yourself useful and do dinner."

"What about your wife?" I asked dryly as I rubbed my jaw, feeling a dull ache there as I pressed my fingertips to the tender spot. My dad's dark eyes glowed hatefully as he thrust his hands down at his sides.

"Bitch out with her... people."

"Why didn't you order pizza?"

"Why didn't you come home and order it for me?"

"Because you're fifty thousand years old and can do it yourself."

"You're just askin' to be smacked, boy."

"Yes, hit me again, I love it." I seethed at him, then brushed past him to the kitchen for the phone. I had barely reached it before my dad caught me by the shoulders again, whirling me around and slamming me into the wall by the phone. His fingernails dug into my shoulders, his disgusting booze breath blasting against my face as he panted.

"F-Fuck you," He stuttered bitterly, "You ain't got no problems! You don't have a cheatin' wife and a useless son! You know nothing about anything!"

I didn't say anything, just glared at him as he rattled on about how miserable his life was and how everything he did was a mistake. Dating my mom, knocking her up, letting her keep me, them getting married, him taking the job in Jensen. I've heard it all before. He was like a broken record, especially when he was drunk.

By the time I tuned back in, he'd reached the pity poor me state and was leaning against my shoulder, struggling to stay standing as he sobbed.

"I did everything and this is the thanks I get?! Fifty years of nothing! Wasted!" He choked, gripping my arms. I just tilted my head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as I mouthed along with him.

Yea, that's how often he did this rambling thing. And the drunk thing.

I let him go on for a tad bit longer before he finally took a shuddering breath and almost hit the floor, but I barely caught him under the arms, rolling my eyes. He was still mumbling under his breath, but he wasn't quite conscious while he was doing it. I sighed and gritted my teeth as I started to drag him to the living room.

I would've taken him to his room, but I wasn't about to drag a two-hundred pound man to the second floor. Over his dead body. Instead, I lugged him into the living room and barely managed to get him slumped over the sofa. I shut the television off and shut the curtains before I grabbed the spare sheets that were sitting on the recliner. I tossed them over my dad carelessly before I went to the kitchen to dump out his booze.

I wanted to see Lucas, I thought as I dumped it out, watching the liquid fizz and hiss before getting sucked down the drain. I leaned on the sink, staring down into the drain.

I wanted to feel Lucas holding me. I wanted to see him staring up at me like I was the greatest thing in the world.

Like I wasn't a useless juvenile delinquent.

It started to make my chest ache the more I thought about it, but it was hard not to. Having Lucas around kept me feeling content, more complete. I wasn't missing something. I wasn't alone anymore. I know I was going to see him tomorrow, but I didn't want to wait that long.

And his house was too far for me to walk to, especially this late at night. Not to mention, Rick would toss me out the moment he saw me.

Maybe I could head over to Nick's?

Would he be home by now?

It wasn't as good as Lucas' place, but it was better than here.

Anything was better than here.

I went to the phone and dialed Nick's cell, but I only got his voicemail. I dialed the house, but his mother was probably out at church. I debated showing up and using the spare key they hid. Just when I was about to come to a conclusion, the front door was opening and I heard my mom's laughter before it died into a sound of disgust.

"Ugh! Lazy pig!"

Of course, that was directed at my dad, who was probably lying sprawled on the sofa. I walked into the living room to find her digging her foot into my dad's side. She was bare foot, wearing an ugly magenta skirt to match her pale pink ruffled blouse that was sliding off one shoulder. She looked up and her expression twisted in distaste.

"What're you doing home? I thought you were in jail."

"I got home almost three or four days ago."

"Oh... Right. Well, whatever. Take your dad to the backyard."

"Uhm, no?"

"Yes! I have guests coming to look at the house tomorrow and I can't have them seeing a drunken piece of trash upon their visit!" She snarled. I blinked.

"What're you talking about?" I asked. She glared at me, putting her hands on her hips as she scowled.

"It's an open house sort of thing! I'm selling the house."

I felt my blood turn to ice.

"W-What?" I heard myself stammer. My mother rolled her eyes as she continued to dig her foot into my dad's side, making him moan and roll away from her, but not far enough as she kicked him hard in the back, enough to make him yelp and jolt awake.

"You bitch!" He accused in agony, struggling to get up and not fall over. My mother scrambled back, brushing off the leg he'd accidentally grabbed at to keep his balance.

"Don't touch me, you swine. Get outside and sleep there. I have guests and I need my beauty sleep for when they come." She snapped in disgust, folding her arms over her chest.

"Wait, so, we're moving?" I asked.

"If you want somewhere to sleep, yea," She retorted, "I can't stand this little town. We're moving to San Francisco in a couple of weeks."

"San Francisco?! That's a billion miles away!" I protested.

"Then you don't have to come."

"I wouldn't have anywhere to sleep!"

"That's not my problem anymore. The day you turned eighteen, everything became your problem, not mine. Like I said, you don't have to come. I rather you not. That way I don't have to worry about the embarrassment of you getting arrested, again." She snorted, then brushed past her husband, who toppled onto the sofa again, earning him an angry curse from his wife before she went upstairs.

Moving?

What the hell was I going to do?!