Upon feeling the vibration of the phone in his pocket, Henry Cosker froze…just for an instant. He swallowed hard as he glanced around the front of the store. Henry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the feeling of the hairs that were suddenly standing on his nape.

Henry knew that he wouldn’t get in trouble for having his phone with him while working. He was a checker for a small grocery store—had been for nearly five years. In fact, Henry wouldn’t even get into trouble for checking his phone’s text messages if it was slow and he wasn’t helping anyone.

No, instead, what made him nervous was the idea that the text could very well be from him—his uncle.

When Henry was eleven, his father had died in a work accident at his construction job. Even though his parents were estranged from Uncle Harrison—his father’s older brother—his mother hadn’t been able to care for them on her own. She’d accepted Uncle Harrison’s offer, and they’d moved in with the man.

Henry had learned pretty darn quick to stay out of his uncle’s way. For the first couple of years, it had worked. Out of sight, out of mind, had done the trick, and as long as Henry didn’t draw attention to himself, his uncle had left him alone.

That had changed when Henry was fourteen and went through puberty, sprouting several inches and growing bigger and broader. Uncle Harrison had taken an interest in him…and not in a good way. His uncle had begun not only psychological abuse, but beating him in such a way that he rarely left any marks, and he never did it in front of Henry’s mother—Candice Cosker.

Too afraid—cowed, even—to say anything to his mother, Henry had suffered through it in silence. After all, Uncle Harrison had made him think it was his own fault. When his uncle had begun inappropriate advances when Henry was sixteen, he’d finally approached his mother.

At first, his mother had questioned him, not taking his word for it.

When Uncle Harrison had pinned Henry to the wall on the upstairs landing, he’d fought against him. His uncle had slammed the eagle-head of his ever-present cane into Henry’s head, sending him reeling. Henry had fallen down the stairs, the noise drawing his mother’s attention.

While Henry didn’t remember most of it, he’d been told that his mother had called the cops. His uncle had been charged with assault with a deadly weapon, and he’d been sent to jail.

Unfortunately, the damage was done. Henry had woken after spending nearly two months in a coma, but he knew he was different. He’d had to relearn a few things, and activities that required fine motor skills took a little more concentration—such as tying his shoes, buttoning his shirts, and catching a ball.

His mother had shown him pictures of him playing football, baseball, and soccer, but those days were a thing of the past.

Plus, Henry had lost count of the number of times his mother had apologized. He’d told her repeatedly that it wasn’t her fault. He should have gone to her as soon as the abuse had started, but they’d both made mistakes.

“Hey, Henry. Are you okay?”

Henry jolted. He turned to find Adana Perentez standing beside his check-stand. She was the daughter of the store’s owners—Hugo and Sofia Perentez. While her title was manager, she knew all aspects of the business and filled in wherever needed.

She was also a nice person, kind and considerate of Henry’s challenges.

“Hi, Adana,” Henry responded, blowing out a slow breath to get his racing heart under control. “Um, yeah. Everything is fine.”

Henry had no desire to share his problems with his bosses, no matter how nice. Home and work life should be kept separate.

“You sure, Henry?” Adana didn’t look convinced as she roved her gaze over his face. “You look a little pale.”

Nodding, Henry assured her, “Yeah. I’m good.”

I’m so not good.

“Well, it’s your break time anyway.” Adana reached up and squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Why don’t you go sit down and drink some juice?”

Henry nodded before placing the closed sign on his check-stand’s belt. “Thanks.”

Adana flashed her sweet smile Henry’s way again before focusing on opening up her own check-stand.

Heading toward the back, Henry glanced around. He spotted a few shoppers here and there. On a Tuesday, early-afternoon, they didn’t normally have a whole lot of traffic, which meant it was a perfect time for him to take a break.

Henry smiled at Ned, who was stocking an end-cap, then turned into the hallway leading to the restrooms and the back. Gripping the knob, he let himself into the break room. Henry quietly closed the door behind him and crossed to the refrigerator.

After opening the door, Henry glanced at the drink options. Hugo was a fantastic owner, and he stocked the fridge with drinks for his employees—a small selection of varieties of generic soda, bottled iced tea, and a couple of kinds of juice. Henry chose an apple juice, then grabbed his sack lunch.

His mother always made him a turkey, lettuce, and cheese sandwich—no tomatoes, because he didn’t like them—with some kind of fruit. Once he’d settled at one of the two small, round tables, he opened his bag and smiled.

Applesauce.

Henry loved applesauce. Also, because his mother didn’t actually consider it a fruit as opposed to a dessert, she’d added a small baggie of almonds. He spread out a napkin he’d pulled from the dispenser on the table, then placed his late lunch upon it.