Page 28 of The Grief We Hold

Told me for my own sanity, I had sixty seconds left to kill him or he’d put a bullet through the man’s brain.

I used fifty-eight seconds before stabbing him through the heart twice. Once for each of my girls.

So, I decide I’m going to Kansas City anyway.

And I’ll deal with the repercussions on another day.

I drive home and switch into the truck, and on autopilot, I take the route into town. Usually, I like to take the bike, but when I know I’m going somewhere a little more populated, the truck makes it easier if I need to remove a body.

If I grab a coffee and some food from Ma’s, I won’t need to stop on the way.

Main Street is busy for a weekend, but not so busy that I don’t spot all that black hair. Raven and her kid are dragging a large dresser along the street.

“Fuck.” I consider stopping for a second. “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” I mutter.

But I can’t help but take a long look at her as I drive by.

She’s impossible to ignore, no matter how badly I want to.

9

RAVEN

“It’s heavy,” Fen complains as we try to shunt the dresser towards the hardware store.

“I know, but it’s free, and we can unpack a little.” At least, that’s what I thought when we walked through the neighborhood behind Main Street and found the dresser on the sidewalk with a sign saying,Take Me.

“It’s too heavy to get up the stairs.” His voice has that whine in it, the one that grates on the last nerve of any parent doing their best, making them really want to shake their child and ask them, for fuck’s sake, could they please just pull their weight.

No matter how unreasonable it would be.

I shake my head, searching for the patience to meet him with kindness. “We’ll take the drawers up one at a time, and that will make it so much lighter.”

One of the downsides of having kids is when you’re already feeling a little deflated yourself, you somehow have to make the prospect of lugging a supremely heavy set of drawers up the stairs sound like the most exciting thing.

I still plan to leave once I get my paycheck, and a part of me just wants to leave the damn dresser where it is and go home, butI owe Fen better. I owe him a loving and safe home that doesn’t feel temporary, even if it is.

A sleek black truck approaches us, and I recognize the size and shine of it immediately.

It belongs to Wraith.

The man who judges my every move, yet seemingly protects me.

The one who was mad I was walking Fen home in the rain but bought me soup so I’d feel better.

The one who braided my hair, even as he told me to stay out of trouble.

The one who always seems so damn mad at me, and yet…

His head turns as he drives by, and I know he sees me. I meet those eyes of his, the deep pools you’ll never see the bottom of. But neither of us acknowledges the other beyond that. No wave of recognition. No smile. Better if the man didn’t see me at all.

“Okay. Let’s make this a game,” I say to Fen. “See the bakery down the street there?”

His little nose screws up as he looks ahead for a second. “I see it.”

“If you can help me get it there without complaining, I’ll buy you a dessert for after dinner tonight.”

Fen claps his hands. “Can I get a doughnut?”

---