Chase
AT AROUND ELEVEN-THIRTY, my old man started calling and leaving me messages, including a text.
Dad: Sorry for earlier. I overreacted. Come home, Son.
Still angry, I didn’t reply. It wasn’t his first apology and it wouldn’t be the last. I was tired of being his punching bag.
“Sonny, could I stay at your place tonight?” I asked as we headed out of the diner.
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied.
“Thanks.”
“Having problems with your old man again?”
I nodded.
“You’re eighteen now. You could move out.”
“I’m planning on it. I just need a place to sleep until I can figure out what I’m going to do.”
“I’m sure if I talk to my mom, she’ll let you stay for a while.”
His mother was cool but she also was a busy-body. I didn’t want her knowing my business. The entire town would find out abou
