I grin. “Never leave home without it.”
And a bunch of other stuff I won’t be mentioning.
I’ve never told them about training at the gym. I don’t know why I kept it a secret, but I never felt compelled to share. Fuck, if they knew the real reason I’m heading to Georgia, they’d have me committed.
Dinner is stagnant after that, but Mom tries to keep the conversation going. I know they both worry, and I hate that I can’t reassure him, but I never know what I’ll be walking into. Until the asshole is caught or killed, I can’t and won’t rest.
After dessert, I help Mom clean up the dishes. “How’s the kickboxing going?”
“Krav Maga,” I mumble, and then it hits me. “Fuck, how did you know?”
“Language,” she admonishes. “I saw you go into TJ’s a couple of weeks ago and watched you through the window. Gotta say, I’m pretty proud of the way you knocked those men around.”
“You didn’t tell dad, did you?”
“No, but why hide it?”
I shrug. “I’m not hiding it per se.” Mom raises her brow. “I’m not. It helps me relieve stress.”
“I’m proud of you.” She pulls me to her chest. “We both are. He’s worried about you. He doesn’t want to lose you too.”
“I know.” I squeeze her back.
“It does make me feel better knowing you can protect yourself when you go on these trips of yours. Though I do wish you would tell your father and set his mind at ease.”
“Please, if anything, he’d be even more worried thinking my smart mouth was looking for a fight.”
Mom laughs. “You’re probably right.”
“I better get going if I want to put some miles behind me before it gets too late.”
“Nate!” Mom hollers. “De is heading out.”
Dad’s heavy steps thump on the staircase. “I’m coming.”
Mom kisses my cheek. “Text me when you stop, and check in daily. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Dad follows me to the car and traps me in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m sorry about earlier. I worry.”
“I know, Dad,” I wheeze.
“Oops,” he says, releasing me. “Here.” Dad thrusts a taser into my hand.
“Um… thanks.”
“It’ll make me feel better knowing you have something for protection.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You call and text us daily.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“Well, maybe not daily, but I will check in and let you know where I am.”