Hood River Rat (Hood River Hoodlums #1) - K Webster Page 0,13
Life is so messed up right now, but this feels right.
“Your dad texted,” she says with a sigh, her voice low so the kids won’t hear.
“And what did he have to say?”
“Wants to see the girls.”
The girls. Not me.
“Oh,” I mutter.
“He wants to see you too, I’m certain of it,” she assures me, “but he’s horrible at expressing himself.”
I tug away from her and frown. “I don’t want to see him anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
We finished out the semester and then moved to Aunt Karen’s over Christmas break. I’d wondered how he’d managed the past three weeks without having anyone to bitch at. Must have been a boring holiday for him.
“The divorce isn’t final,” she reminds me. “So if he wants to see them, I have to let him. He’s not fighting for custody, and I don’t want to poke the bear. I already told him he’ll have to make the effort to come out here, though. The girls can’t miss any school.”
“Just let me know when he shows up so I can make myself scarce.”
She presses her lips together but rather than defend him or argue, she simply nods. “I love you, kiddo. No matter what. I’d do anything for you.”
I hate that she’s already had to.
She left her husband, uprooted her children, and moved across the country for us—for me. The gnawing, burning pain in my gut flares up. Where I was hungry moments ago, now I can barely handle the smell of the food without feeling nauseous.
Mom, always able to sense when I’m not quite right even though I dazzle her with bright smiles, cradles my cheeks with her hands. “We’re going to get through this, honey.”
“I know, Mom.”
I feel eyes on me and dart my attention to Roan, who watches me with cool indifference. Mom notices him looking our way and gives me a silly smile.
“Friend or…” she whispers.
“Neither,” I grumble. “But our sisters get along, so there’s that.”
Her eyes twinkle knowingly. “Give it time.”
There’s not enough time in the world to ever make me grow to willingly like Roan, much less want to date him.
“I met two people today. Gio and Sidney. Both really nice.” I flash her my big, fake grin. “You’d really like both of them.”
Two friends. I made two friends.
My smile falters.
“It’s only been a day,” she says. “You’ll be the boy everyone loves in no time. How could they not?”
I hug her to me again, inhaling her familiar motherly scent. I’m taller than her and bigger, but she’ll always be my mom. Someone who I want to lean on when shit gets tough. She can’t do much about anything, but she just has an inner strength I can tap into.
It really bothers me that Roan is more comfortable in my aunt’s kitchen than I am. We never visited her in Hood River. She always came to us. So even though we’ve been here a few weeks, it doesn’t feel like home.
Roan, however, acts like he lives here.
Mom, Aunt Karen, and the girls have all retired to the living room to play a board game upon Charlotte’s obnoxious insistence. I offered to stay back and clean, and to my surprise, Roan hopped up to help.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him, as I set down a clean plate from the dishwasher a little too hard in the cabinet, making it clang.
“It’s my job,” he bites back, shooting me a nasty glare.
Whatever, asshole.
I continue to unload the dishwasher while he grabs plastic containers to put the leftovers away. He hesitates for a moment as though he’s unsure what to do. Before I can utter a word, Aunt Karen peeps her head in.
“Roan,” she tells him lightly. “Roux loved the lasagna. Can you just take the rest back with you tonight? There’s not enough for this gang to have leftovers, but there’s plenty for the two of you for tomorrow night.”
He nods and then continues on with his task as she leaves. When I’m caught staring, he drops the container onto the counter and turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. Just three feet away from me, I can nearly feel the heat from his muscular body burning into me.
Why must horrible people be so hot?
“What?” he demands, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching.
“Nothing.”
“Say it, rat.”
I take several steps toward him until my chest bumps against his arms. “Stop calling me that.”