Page 33 of The Grief We Hold

Raven’s eyes close for a millisecond. Her shoulders rise and sink. She purses her lips, then swallows deeply before putting her hand on Fen’s head. “They were the only ones he was ever gonna make, sweetie. I promise.”

The kid dips his forehead to her stomach, and she strokes a hand over his hair as he hugs her.

When her eyes catch mine, I see embarrassment flood them, and she looks away.

“You gonna move up that last step?” Smoke asks from behind me. “These drawers must be solid wood. They weigh a ton.”

I find my feet and move as that simple exchange between Fen and Raven rattles through me.

I fucking hate domestic violence.

Ask Pinion, one of the old-timers who beat up his old lady. The guy was eating soup through a straw by the time I was done with him. Butcher docked me a month’s pay for siding with the old lady over the brother, but I couldn’t even look at that black eye of hers without rage flowing through me faster than coke up a banker’s nostril.

I’ve lived through it. Watch my dad beat seven bells out of my mom until she got us out of there.

On the way to collect the carcass of the dresser, I check out the security on the door. The Dobsons should be ashamed. Theyown a goddamn hardware store. Not like it would cost ‘em much to add a dead bolt instead of this flimsy lock screwed into the wall with the world’s tiniest screws. The shitty chain isn’t much better. It would take one solid kick of the door to break it.

“Assholes,” I mutter.

“You talking to yourself, brother?” Smoke asks.

“She needs better locks. You lift that end and go up backwards.” I go to pick up the dresser carcass, but Smoke slams to a stop.

“What?” I ask.

He smiles, but it’s sad. “It’s okay to think about her that way.” He tips his chin toward the window on the upper level. “Cute kid. Cute woman. It’s okay to admit you’re worried about her.”

I shake my head. “I’m worried it’s going to get dark before we have this dresser up those stairs.”

“You’re not gonna like what I say next.”

I look up at Smoke. He shaves his head every summer before he goes jumping, then lets it grow back during the winter. It’s short, shaggy curls right now.

“If I’m not gonna like it, don’t say it.” Because I’m pretty certain I know what he’s thinking. “Every time you say that, it’s usually followed by how to get back on the dating wheel. Wasn’t it dating apps last time?”

“Hallie wouldn’t want you to be alone. That woman dreamed of giving you a family, brother. She wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life without one.”

“Motherfucker, I’m gonna?—”

“Momma just searched on the Internet about tadpoles and it’s tadpole season.” Fen claps his hands and jumps up and down on the spot at the top of the stairs. “She said we can go looking this afternoon. Do you want to come with us?”

Smoke raises an eyebrow in my direction. A silent challenge that encourages me to say yes.

“No can do, kid. I got shit to do. So, move out of the way so I can get this upstairs for you.”

Fen’s face falls. “Okay.”

It might have hurt less to kick a puppy.

“Well, that was disappointing,” Smoke says.

“Yeah, well. Fortunately, I don’t give a shit what you think.”

He huffs. “Good luck telling yourself that.”

We get the dresser up the narrow stairs, and Smoke gets a call from Butcher.

“Where do you want it?” I ask Raven.

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