The Weight of the World Read Free Page A

his arms,
breathing the scent of her hair. Devon was not frail by any means,
but in his extra-strong embrace she felt soft and delicate.
    “ I
told them,” she whispered.
    Both
of them heard footsteps at the same time. They barely had time to
step apart before Mr. Valentine came through the door with a shotgun.
The shock had worn off and he was angry. “You!” he pointed the
gun at Frank’s chest. “Climbing in my window, breaking in to my
house. Get your dirty paws off my daughter.”
    Frank’s
heart hammered in his chest. He could feel the pulse of every finger
and toe. The back of his neck felt cold as muscles contracted and
released with the rush of adrenaline. He just stared back at Mr.
Valentine and his Ithica model 37, pump-action shotgun, not backing
down an inch.
    “ You’re
not going to see this boy again, do you hear me, Devon?”
    “ Dad!
Put the gun down.”
    “ If
I catch you with her again--”
    “ We’re
having a baby,” Frank said. His deep voice was rich and terrifying.
“And I’ll be damned if you’ll keep me away from my son.”
    Frank
wasn’t sure why he said son. It just seemed more personal and
sincere than the generic “my kid.” The six-foot-six war god
stepped closer to Mr. Valentine, towering over him. Mr. Valentine was
scared but he wasn’t about to shoot him. Not yet, anyway. He swung
the butt of the rifle quickly. He knew what he was doing; he had been
in the military before he was married.
    The
back of the gun seemed to come at Frank in slow motion. He had ample
time to anticipate the attack, block it, and wrench the gun from Mr.
Valentine’s hands before the world snapped back into normal speed.
To the Valentine family, Frank appeared to react with lightning quick
reflexes. He bent the barrel of the gun and shoved it back into Mr.
Valentine’s arms, causing him to stagger.
    Frank
was out the window without a word to Devon. She was crying now. Damn
those hormones! Mrs. Valentine wanted to go comfort her daughter, but
the rage in her husband’s eyes caused her to stay back and stay
quiet. Devon had clearly brought this upon herself by being
promiscuous with that beast.
    “ I
meant what I said,” Mr. Valentine muttered, looking up from his
mangled gun. “You’re to only leave the house with my express
permission. If I see you with that boy again, you’ll be visiting
Aunt Nancy for the next eight months.
    He
turned and left the room. Mrs. Valentine looked back at Devon, her
eyes wide and wet with suppressed tears. “I’ll get you some
vitamins tomorrow.”
    She
closed the bedroom door, leaving Devon alone to sob into her
comforter.

    Devon
woke up five hours later. The summer sun had set some time ago,
leaving her bedroom dark. A number of mosquitoes had flown in through
her still-open window. She swatted one on her arm. The bloated insect
left a splotch of scarlet blood. Devon couldn’t be sure that all of
it was hers.
    She
got up from the bed and found a tissue to clean the bug bite with.
She closed her window. It was after eleven. The house was silent.
    She’d
had that dream again, the same one from her nap this afternoon with
Frank. How easy it was to fall in love.
    Devon,
still in her jeans and t-shirt, changed into a pair of tiny red
pajama shorts and a tank top. She
flipped open her cell phone and clicked down her contacts list. She
thought of calling Dr. Davis. Hell, she’d talk to June Herald right
now. Anyone.
    A
text message set her phone vibrating. It was Frank. “Are you okay?”
she read. Not really, but she typed “yes” and sent the message.
She closed her phone and went downstairs for a glass of water.
    She
filled a tall glass from the dispenser in the door of the
refrigerator and then slipped out the back sliding door. The summer
air was thick and humid, but the concrete patio was cool under her
bare feet.
    A
pair of indigo eyes flashed reflected moonlight. Devon gasped and
staggered back into a patio chair. “Shit, Adam,” she cursed.