Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,1
against the ground.
Ma, God love her, she’s stomping her way toward me, and I can’t tell if it’s tears or rain against her cheeks. Her feet hit the ground causing the water, that’s quickly gathering in puddles, to splash around her ankles. Ma’s black leather flat shoes are getting ruined with mud. That doesn’t seem to be on her mind at the moment as she marches toward me.
Her red hair seems to be flaming with how pissed she is, and when she finally stands in front of me, she raises her hand and backhands me across the face.
It’s the first time in my whole life Ma has hit me.
My brows furrow together after my head snaps to the right from the force. The tiny woman packs a wallop. I shouldn’t be surprised since we come from a family of fighters, but I am. I lift my hand to my cheek as it starts to burn. Lightning cracks across the sky, and as I turn around to look at me ma again, wind blows causing her hair to dance in long twirls. She looks like a witch, and the storm is her power. Ma’s anger is brewing, and I’m at the receiving end of it.
“Get off yer arse and get in the car, Rohan! I don’t want to be here another second, ye hear me? Not one more second. Ye brother is dead! Dead. Do ye understand? Sitting on the damn dirt, on his grave, it ain’t gonna bring him back. Get in the car.”
“No,” I say again. I don’t care if the water drowns me on top of Conor’s grave. I’m not moving a damn inch. I’m not ready to say my final goodbyes yet.
She rears her hand back and slaps me again. With the water drenching my cheek, it only makes the sting that much worse. “Yer stupid. Ye have always been the dumber one. I wish it would have been ye! I wish ye would have died instead of Conor. What good are ye? Tell me, what good are ye to me? I hate ye, boyo. I hate ye. I wish ye were in that grave because I wouldn’t miss ye nearly as much as I miss my Conor right now.” Ma doesn’t hesitate to give me blow after blow with her words.
They are worse than any hit I’ve ever received, including the two slaps I just got from her.
“Conor was more of a man than ye’ll ever be, Rohan. I’d give anything for ye two to change spots.”
“Ari, that’s enough,” Da finally unglues himself from beside the car and runs to Ma. When she lifts her hand again, he catches her wrist before she sends another wail against my cheek.
I can take it. Her words, while they hurt, I know she’s just experiencing the pain of losing a son. If she wants to take her sadness out on me, she can. I won’t stop her. “Da, it’s alright. Let her work through it.”
Her mournful eyes narrow at me, the jackhammer of depression jabbing me in the chest as she decides to hate me instead of love me. “There’s nothing to work through.” Her eyes morph into lagoons as tears fill them to the brink. “I hate ye, Rohan. I want me boy back. I want Conor.”
I stand from the grave, my shoes digging into the mud along with my hands as I push myself into a standing position, but Ma shoves my chest. Conor’s tombstone catches me as I stumble back, and I almost tumble over it.
“I don’t wanna see ye back here again; do ye here me?” Ma yells through the veil of rain.
“Ari, don’t. Yer gonna regret this,” Da urges her to calm down and think about her decision to cast me away.
“The only thing I regret right now is Conor being dead and Rohan being alive, and Rohan, I will never forgive ye for that. I never want to see ye again.” Ma is soaking wet; hell, we all are. She spins on her expensive shoe, and water fans around her, splashing against me stomach. It’s a hopeless feeling then, but when it comes from Ma giving me her back, soaking me in resentment, it’s detrimental.
Ma’s black outfit disappears into the rain when she gets to the car and climbs into the passenger seat. Now all she’s waiting for is Da.
“She doesn’t mean it, son,” Da says, doing his best to cover for her, but no matter what he says, nothing can fix the