Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(60)

“What if I don’t have a choice?” he asks, amplifying my concerns.

“There is always a choice, Mitch.” His Adam’s apple bounces twice before he asks his next question.

“What if there is no right choice? What if no matter what I choose, someone gets hurt?”

“Then you choose the best one for you. The one that keeps you safe. The one you can live with. You get me?” I want him to know he doesn’t have to worry about Liberty. That I have her back, but something tells me if I say it aloud right now, I’ll lose him.

“I don’t know what’s best for me.” He places the chess piece back on the board, setting it back up for another game.

“I think you do, Mitch. I think you know what’s good for you, but you’re scared.”

“He’s my family, Hetch. I walk away from him and I have nothing.” The words gut me, but not because I feel for him, but because hearing him say them hurts for Liberty. She loves him. Jesus, anyone can see it. “Seems to me you have a good family here too, you know?” I look around the backyard, seeing the tight knit group they have here. It’s evident as they stick close together no matter what they’re doing. “They might not be blood, but when they’ve dug their way so deep in here,”—I pat my chest, covering my heart—“you can’t get them out. They’re the family you hold onto, son.” He nods, before holding out his hand for the knight. I don’t give it right away, taking a moment to word my next sentence carefully.

“Just promise me, Mitch, whenever you decide to make the decision, you make it for you. And if you can’t make the decision yourself, then you call me. Any time. Any place. I’ll be there. No matter what. And we’ll make it together. You think you can handle that?” I ask, hoping like hell I’m getting through to him.

“Yeah, I can.”

“Good.” I hand over my knight.

“So, you want another game?” he asks, and even though I’ve been here for over an hour and am so f*cking over chess, I still say yes.

“Yeah, but go easy on me this time. My rep is at stake here.”

“Dude, I have been,” he says, and for a brief second, I see the carefree teen he should be, right before he laughs loud enough to gain Liberty’s attention. She smiles, then waves, and like every other time she looks at me, I’m sucked back into her hemisphere.





Twenty





Liberty





“Can I get a double cheeseburger with fries and a strawberry milkshake?” Mitch looks over the top of his menu to gauge my reaction.

Boys.

“I’ll get the same, but no milkshake. I’ll have a diet soda, please.” The waitress smiles as she takes our menus, and tells us she’ll be right back with our drinks.

“Snack, huh?” I ask Mitch, sitting back in my chair.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and after spending a few hours at the library with Mitch so he could get some studying in, we decided we would stop in for a drink. Which turned into a snack. Which clearly to a fifteen-year-old, means a meal.

“Well, I did work up an appetite with all the work I’ve put into my English assignment.” He shrugs and then moves back to his cell phone. I have to agree. He has been working hard these last few weeks.

Ever since the car wash and spending some one-on-one time with Hetch, it’s like he’s a different person.

“How are you doing in the rest of your classes?” I ask, taking the opportunity to have my own one–on-one time with him. While Mitch has been back on the program for two weeks, he still has to have a chaperone everywhere he goes. Despite Hetch’s persistency, Dominic still hasn’t been picked up, and my commitment to keeping him away from Mitch is still strong.

“It’s getting a lot easier,” he answers, while his fingers dance over the keyboard, typing at expert speed.

I want to ask who he’s texting, ask if Dominic has contacted him, but before I have a chance to address it, he finishes up his text and slides it into the pocket of his hoodie.

“That’s good. You keep studying and working hard, you’ll be on track for college,” I tell him, as he reaches for the ketchup bottle and starts spinning it in front of him.

A lot of kids who grow up through the system don’t think they are capable of that sort of opportunity. But if Mitch keeps going the way he is, away from his brother, applying himself, and staying out of trouble, I truly believe he has a real shot.

“I don’t know, Lib.” His eyes don’t quite meet mine, and I wonder if he’s as worried about his brother getting in the way as I am.

“Has your brother been in contact with you, Mitch?” I come right out and ask him. If I wanted to check his phone, I could, but I want to give him a chance to talk to me about it first.

“No, I haven’t heard from him since Hetch picked me up a few weeks back.” His spinning of the ketchup bottle ceases when the waitress returns with our drinks.

Mitch digs into his milkshake right away, while I decide to wait for my meal.

“Do you know where he is?” I press a little more.

“I already told Hetch I don’t know anything,” he snaps, and I realize I might have pushed too far.

“Okay, I just wanted to check with you. So, how do you like your one-on-one time with Sergeant Hetcherson?” I ask, hoping I haven’t ruined our easygoing conversation.