Chương 12
He resisted it.
“Then we get away from them and call for help.”
Noah looked at him.
“You don’t fight them?”
“No.”
“What if they try to hurt me?”
Ethan took a slow breath.
“I will always protect you.”
“How?”
“That depends.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
Noah had inherited that from both parents.
Ethan rubbed his palms together.
“If somebody is actually trying to hurt you and there’s no safe way to get away, I’ll stop them.”
“Like Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“But you said you shouldn’t have pushed him.”
“I said I pushed too hard.”
Noah considered that.
“So you were right and wrong?”
Ethan looked at Lauren.
She said nothing.
He turned back to Noah.
“Yeah.”
The boy frowned as if this were a badly designed math problem.
“That’s stupid.”
“It really is.”
Noah picked at the hem of his pajama pants.
“Did he hurt his wrist?”
“Yes.”
“Bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it because of you?”
“Probably partly.”
Noah looked up.
“Do you feel bad?”
Ethan thought about the question.
“Yes.”
“Even though he was mean?”
“Yes.”
Noah stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt people just because I’m angry at them.”
“You were protecting me.”
“I was.”
“So why feel bad?”
Ethan leaned back against the staircase.
“Because two things can be true.”
Noah gave him the expression he used when adults were ruining language on purpose.
Lauren said, “Your dad is being annoyingly correct.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t enjoy it.”
Noah looked at his uniform.
“Can we just watch?”
Ethan nodded.
“At the game?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have to play.”
“I know.”
They went.
Noah wore regular clothes.
He sat on the bleachers between Ethan and Lauren while his teammates played.
At halftime, his coach came over.
“Everything okay, man?”
Noah nodded.
The coach looked at Ethan.
Ethan said, “Rough week.”
The coach nodded.
“No problem.”
He did not ask for details.
Ethan appreciated him more for that.
Late in the second half, a ball went out of bounds and rolled toward the parking lot.
Noah tensed.
The ball bumped harmlessly against the tire of a silver minivan.
A woman standing beside the van picked it up.
She called, “Whose?”
A kid raised his hand.
The woman tossed it back.
That was all.
Noah watched her return to loading grocery bags into her trunk.
His shoulders lowered.
On the drive home, he said, “She didn’t care.”
Ethan kept his eyes on the road.
“No.”
“She just threw it back.”
“Yep.”
Noah was quiet.
Then, “Ryan’s weird.”
Lauren covered a laugh with a cough.
Ethan said, “Yes.”
That afternoon, Leah called.
“The police review is moving toward no immediate charge against you.”
Ethan sat at his dining table.
“Moving toward?”
“Do not turn lawyer language into a personal attack.”
He almost smiled.
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’re still evaluating statements. Ryan’s conduct with the poker matters. The witness accounts matter. The fact that you stopped when he was on the ground matters. There may still be follow-up. Nothing is final until it is final.”
“And Ryan?”
“I don’t represent Ryan.”
“Right.”
“There’s another development.”
Ethan stopped smiling.
“What?”
“Ryan’s attorney asked whether you’d consider a private resolution regarding the online posts and any potential civil claims.”
“What kind?”
“No contact. Mutual agreement not to post about each other. You cover a portion of his documented medical expense. He removes the posts and agrees not to pursue a civil claim.”
Ethan stood.
“No.”
“I assumed.”
“He threatened my son, and I pay his doctor?”
“I’m telling you what was proposed.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“And he admits what he did.”
Leah paused.
“That was not in the proposal.”
“Then no.”
“I heard you.”
“He admits the threat.”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“Be careful about turning an apology into a legal demand.”
“It’s not just an apology.”
“I know.”
“He is telling people he never said it.”
“Yes.”
“My son is watching adults argue about whether something he heard happened.”
Leah went quiet.
Ethan continued.
“That matters more than the money.”
“I agree that it matters.”
“So make it part of the deal.”
“I can ask.”
“No. Tell them.”
“Ethan.”
He stopped.
Leah said, “I can communicate your position. I cannot make another person confess.”
“I’m not asking for a confession.”
“What are you asking for?”
Ethan looked toward the garage door.
“For him to stop calling Noah a liar.”
That evening, Ryan called Brad.
Brad did not answer.
Ryan called Margaret.
She did not answer.
Ryan called Megan.
She blocked him.
Then he called Ethan.
Ethan watched the phone ring.
He did not answer.
A voicemail appeared.
Leah had told him not to engage, but she had not told him not to listen.
Ryan’s voice sounded different.
Tired.
“Ethan. Look, I know your lawyer said not to talk, but this is stupid. We’re family. We can fix it without turning it into a whole thing.”
A pause.
“You know I wasn’t going to hurt Noah.”
Another pause.
“I shouldn’t have put the ball on the grill. Fine. That was stupid. But you came at me like you wanted a fight, man. You did. Everybody knows it.”
His breathing grew louder.
“And now my wrist is messed up, Kendra thinks I’m some psycho, your mom won’t answer the phone, and people online are calling me a child abuser. You want me to say I threatened him? What do you think happens after that?”
The voicemail continued.
“I was angry. I said something. I don’t remember the exact words. I’m not going to sign my name to some statement that ruins my life so you can feel like a hero.”
Then, quieter:
“You already won. What else do you want?”
The message ended.
Ethan listened twice.
On the third time, he stopped before the end.
You already won.
That was what Margaret had accused him of wanting.
He sent the voicemail to Leah.
Then he sat alone in the living room.
May you like
For nearly an hour, he did nothing.
No television.
