Page 52 of Reclaim Me

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Riley says in a sing-song voice that makes me smile.

“Goodnight, Daughter.” Marcy gives us both an odd look, so I tack on. “Goodnight, Mrs. Scott,” just because I know it’ll freak her the fuck out to know that I know her last name. Years of being my size and looking the way that I do have taught me that some people will go out of their way to find a reason to be afraid of me.

Aaron has probably told her all about my history of addiction and all the tattoos. He’s probably made me out to be some caveman who grunts and resorts to violence at every turn, doing everything he can to paint an image of me his mother will go out of her way to uphold in an effort to support her son. Tonight, me standing on her doorstep with knowledge of her last name is that proof and it doesn’t matter that I got the information from Rae or that there was nothing sinister in my tone when I said it. She chooses to be afraid because any alternative would be a direct affront to the narrative she and her son have crafted.

As expected, her eyes go wide, and she steps back even though I haven’t advanced on her at all. “Good night,” she says, rushing to close the door. I hear the deadbolt engage and laugh to myself as I walk down the steps. Meeting Marcy explains so much about Aaron, but it does nothing to help me understand how Rae can stomach the two of them every day.

When I reach the end of the short walkway that leads from the driveway to the door, I pause, battling with myself about whether I should check in on Rae before I go or just leave well enough alone. Leaving would be the proper thing to do, but I don’t like Aaron when he’s sober, and I don’t trust him when he’s drunk, so that option doesn’t sit right with me. I walk up to the car and rap on his window, gesturing for him to roll it down when he scowls at me through the glass.

“What do you?—”

I hold a hand up, cutting him off so I can address the only person in the car I give a fuck about. “You good, Rae?”

She’s not good. I can tell by the way her eyes are shining with unshed tears. I know from first-hand experience that those are tears of fury, not sadness, which means Aaron is in danger of losing his head if he doesn’t tread carefully.

“I’m fine, Hunter. Thanks for getting Ri in the house and for being here tonight. It meant a lot to her.”

“Of course, anything for my girls.”

Rae was intentional about not saying my presence meant a lot to her, too, so I’m just as intentional about reminding her that Riley might be my first priority, but she’s my second. I know she catches my meaning when her eyes take on that dazed look. Aaron fumes between us, but he doesn’t say anything, which is preferable but also surprising. I knew he was weak, but I didn’t think he was that weak. I mean sitting there pouting while another man reminds the woman you both love that she’s his has to be a new low, even for him.

Satisfied that Rae is fine, I tap the top of the car. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

Coming home to all the lights in the house on and the sound of the TV blasting is something I haven’t experienced since I shared my home with Rae over ten years ago, so it’s taken some getting used to. And by getting used to, I mean pretending not to be annoyed every time I come home to it because I don’t want Taurin to feel like he has to walk on eggshells around me.

We’ve been living together for almost a month now, and he’s comfortable here. Given that his parents have turned down every request to meet—despite him having close two months of sobriety under his belt, getting back in school and doing well, and working at the gym for me—his comfort here is a good thing, a necessary thing, the only thing that will keep him off the streets and on a path to the life he would have had if a basketball injury hadn’t led him to a pain pill prescription that jump-started his opioid addiction.

Our arrangement isn’t traditional by any means, but it’s been working for us, and I hope it stays that way, even if he is the messiest housemate I’ve ever had.

“T!” I yell out as I enter through the backdoor and get slapped in the face with a pile of dishes in the sink and an open box of cereal on the counter. He comes running from the living room with a bowl of cereal in hand, sloshing milk around.

“Yeah?” I wave a hand in the general direction of the mess and give him a ‘what the fuck’ look. He shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and nods. “I got you, man. Let me finish this bowl, and then I’ll take care of it.”

I cross my arms and stare at him, and he starts to chew faster, washing down his last bite with noisy slurps of his milk before making his way over to the sink.

“Strict as hell around here,” he mutters under his breath.

“Gotta be when I’m dealing with gremlins like you.”

“Speaking of gremlins, how’s your kid?”

Taurin and I have spent a lot of time outside of meetings expanding on the things we’ve shared inside them. I’ve learned about the friends he grew up playing ball with, the girlfriend who’s a cheerleader and a year older than him, the subjects he struggles with in school, and the bond he has with his little brother, Terrance. In return, I’ve shared details of my burgeoning bond with Riley, expressing some doubts about being good enough for her but still trying my best while he assured me that was enough.

“She’s great. She won first place in the science fair.”

“Cool. What’d she do?”

“Water filtration system,” I tell him, pulling out my phone and walking over to the sink to show him pictures of Riley and her whole setup.

“Damn. That’s like seventh-grade-level stuff. Isn’t she just in third grade?”

“Fourth.”

“Same grade as my little brother,” he says, turning back to the dishes to hide the fact that his happy, open expression has morphed into one of sadness.

“You miss him a lot, huh?”

Taurin nods, running a soapy dishcloth over a plate that he’s already washed. “Yeah, but I messed up, so I don’t deserve to see him again.”

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