Page 66 of Hunted: Season Two

“Thank you.”

“However,” she boldly snips, “have you ever fucking considered that it’s not aboutkeepingshit from you so much asprotectinghimself? Protecting himself from the past heleft.From whatever it is heescaped? From the things that haunthim?Have you ever fucking considered that maybe…just maybe…I’m not the only one around here who reinvented themself to save themself?”

“You want a popped hood?” I quietly inquire to The Kid who doesn’t bother looking my way. “Fine.”

At that, he glances over.

“My old man had alcohol and anger issues. And he took that shit out on us.Daily.My mom and older sister, Millie, got the worst of it because they didn’t fight back. They were easy targets for whatever set him off for the day. Out of milk. Stubbed his toe. Lost a sports bet. Got a pay cut at work. Whenever something shit on his mood, he physically took it out on them. They were his marks. I wasn’t as often because I refused to just take his shit. From the first hit I can remember, I swungback. With toy trucks. And bats. And eventually bottles. And pans. I fucking brawled.When I was in that house…and so was he…I fucking fought.”

His entire body angles itself to better receive the information.

“For them. For me.One day after school, I came home to find Millie hopping on the back of her boyfriend’s bike. She didn’t say shit. She just offered me a sympathetic smile and bailed.”

A small flash of compassion crosses his face.

“Thatwas the last I ever saw and heard from her. Mom never searched. Never asked about her. Never even said her name again. And my old man? Erased her from existence. Tossed her shit in the garbage. Tried to set some of it on fire. Drunkenly ripped up photos.” Removing my wallet from my back pocket is effortlessly executed. “I haveonepicture of her.” I yank it out from the spot behind my license and toss it on thetable for him to see. “And you know why? BecauseGarcia’s momhad taken it at some holiday party, andheprinted it for me.”

The Kid’s jaw cracks yet doesn’t stop me rambling.

“The Garcias were the only thing that keptmealive. I spent more timetherethan I ever did at home. They kept me fed and clothed when my own mother could barely hold down a fucking job because that shit’s difficult when you can’t breathe due to broken ribs or see due to swollen eyes or stop sobbing because you don’t know if you’re gonna live to see tomorrow.”

Another futile movement of his mouth occurs.

“I learned basic survival health shit from his mom. What to avoid if dumpster diving. How to play a restaurant for discounted meals or scraps they have to throw out at the end of the night. I learned injury treatment shit fromhisold man. How to survivor patch wounds with household items. I learned car shit from one of his cousins. How to hustle at pool and poker from another. His family taught me neighborhoods to avoid. The right people to always charm. How to benefit from a broken system while understanding certain systems weren’t built for me. I learned tosurviveand eventuallythrivebecausetheygave a shit about me. Because they neverstoppedgiving one.”

Rabbit carefully lowers the eggs back to the table.

“And the night that I came home to find both of people I had to call my parents dead,thatwas the night I left Spike Village.” A defeated shoulder shrug barely escapes. “I left that poor, neglected, abused kidthereand became someone else. Someone who would dowhateverit took to protect those they loved, damn whatever the costs.” I let my wallet flop onto the furniture beside the box of breadcrumbs. “Yeah, I had awhole fucking lifebefore you Kipp, but the one that matters most to me, that’salwaysmattered most to me, that willalwaysbe theonly onethat matters to me is the one I havewith you.” Shoving down the lump of tears in my throat is almost impossible. “I love you, Kid.”

Against his own volition, he melts. “Full flag stop?”

“Full. Fucking. Flag. Stop.”

I’m finally given a grin.

Anactualgrin.

An actual grin that possesses the strength it takes to move the fifty thousand pounds of pressure sitting uncomfortably on my chest.

All of a sudden, the sound of my cell ringing has me diving into my pocket to retrieve it.

Fuck work.

I’m not going anywhere until this shit is actually done.

Until The Kid gets from me what it is he needs.

Understands that there is no giving up on me.

Or us.

Accepts that I’m really no better at this relationship bullshit than he is.

Seeing the contact information on the screen has me cautiously glancing up prior to announcing, “It’s the doctor’s office.” Their expressions shift to nervousness at the same time I answer on speaker. “Nolan.”

“Hey, Nolan, it’s Dr. G,” she warmly announces as if I didn’t already know that. “Is B around? I finally have all of her test results.”

Chapter 13

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