Raid - By Kristen Ashley Page 0,41
to the wardrobe, slid a belt off a hanger, turned to me and kept speaking as he did up his pants and added the belt.
“Meant we got the monthly money from rentin’ out the bottom half where Mr. Lean kept his old tractors and whatever we could get from hunters who don’t give a shit where they sleep and cross country skiers on a budget. Didn’t help a lot, but did mean we didn’t lose our house.”
“You nearly lost your house?” I asked quietly, and he smiled at me.
“Seems you didn’t pay that much attention to me.”
I did.
Still.
“I know you—” I started.
Raiden interrupted me, “Worked nights and weekends. Reason Rachelle is such a great cook is because she did the same at the nursing home, junior nurse’s aide. She loved downhome cooking and she pumped old folks for recipes. She’s got about eight card files full of ‘em.”
That explained that.
Now the hard part.
“Your Dad knocked your Mom around?”
“Yeah, babe, why do you think I set his ass out?” Raiden answered, and I went back to staring.
“You set him out?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“But weren’t you only fourteen?”
“You can fuck someone up, Hanna, you get a good boot in his crotch. He’s so busy dealin’ with the pain, can’t defend himself when you land a fist repeatedly in his face or a boot to his ribs.”
I couldn’t believe this, and more, I couldn’t believe Raiden was so matter-of-fact about it.
My heart hurt and my stomach was clutching, but I forced my mouth to say, “I’ll be sure to remember that.”
Then I focused my attention on finding my flip-flops, mostly because I didn’t know what to do with all the feelings I was having, none of them good, and I had to focus on something.
“Hanna,” he called as I found my flip-flops and was shifting them with my toes so I could slide my feet in. I looked back at Raiden. “A long time ago and better with him gone. It was worth it. That shit didn’t mark me. He was gone, instant happy for all of us, even if things were tight.”
I nodded, not feeling mollified even slightly and looked back to my shoes.
“Honey,” he called again and my eyes went to him. “Not bullshitting you. Rache, Mom and me, we’re close. Him gone, we were happy.”
“Okay,” I replied.
“You say okay, but your face says something else.”
“What does my face say?” I asked, but I knew. I never played poker because I didn’t know how and also because I’d suck at it, mostly because I had no clue how to keep my thoughts from showing, nor, until then, had I had any reason to.
“One of two things, can’t tell which. Either you’re pissed or you’re about ready to cry.”
I turned my full attention to him. “Both, I guess.”
“Right, then, like I said. No need for that emotion because it was and is all good.”
“I can sense that, considering the matter-of-fact way you’re discussing it, sweetheart,” I told him. “But I don’t like that you went through that or that things were tight for you guys or that you had to get in your Dad’s face to get him to do something to help take care of his own kids.”
“It happened, but it’s been done for nearly twenty years.”
“I still don’t like it.”
He grinned. “I’ll give you that ‘cause it’s cute, but you got until we get to your house to get over it.”
To that, I returned, “My Mom and Dad love each other and they loved me and Jeremy. My grandparents loved us until they died. My great-grandmother dotes on me. All of my life, I had love and safety. Life didn’t touch me until I decided to start living it, and the worst thing that’s ever happened to me was what Bodhi and Heather did, and that’s on them, not on me. I never had what you had. I don’t know what to do with knowing you had to deal with that. I don’t like knowing you had to deal with that. And I just learned about it so it may take longer than the next twenty minutes for me to get over wanting to reenact the boot to crotch maneuver on your Dad. Because you’re an awesome guy, Raiden Miller. Your Mom and sister love you because they have reason. You’re a gentleman. You’re a kind neighbor. You’re even a hero with the medals to prove it. And you deserve a Dad who taught you how to be that. Not a life