Page 34 of The Grief We Hold

“I can move it from there,” she says, arms folded defensively across her chest and my eyes are drawn briefly to the round curves of her tits.

Again.

I sigh. I’m getting sick of this shit where I don’t want to help her, she doesn’t want my help, and yet here we both are with a tension between us that we both seem to want to avoid. “I’m sure you can. But just tell me where you fucking want it, and we can both be done.”

Raven takes a breath, drops her shoulders and points to the wall at the bottom of the bed. “In there, please.”

Smoke ends his call. “I gotta go. Butcher needs me for something.”

“Thanks for giving me a hand,” I say.

“Yes. Thank you.” Raven smiles at Smoke, and I find myself stuck somewhere between envy and wanting to punch my brother’s lights out.

How does he get the smile and I get the pushback?

I drag the carcass of the dresser into the bedroom and catch sight of Fen trying to drag one of the large drawers over.

I hurry to help him. “Don’t drag it. You’ll scratch the floor.”

“But I want to do it with you.”

“Then bend your knees and lift.” I show him what I mean.

He mimics me. I wonder if this is what it would have been like with Lottie. Me doing chores, her wanting to help. Me teaching her shit. How to brush her teeth, how to change the oil filter on her first car.

Not that I would have let her do that while I was still around.

If ever there was a job I would demand as mine, it’s oil filters.

I take ninety-five percent of the weight of the drawer, and the two of us move it to the dresser, where we slot it into the bottom opening. Then we repeat it six more times until all the drawers are in place.

“Look at it,” Fen says wistfully. “Isn’t it perfect?”

The wood is chipped in places. One of the knob handles is loose. The feet are scratched and beaten, like someone kept running the vacuum cleaner into them.

“Yeah. You guys did good finding it.”

I ruffle his hair, then step out into the living area. Raven is putting away some dishes she washed and left to dry.

“Is that where you wanted it?”

She glances over her shoulder and smiles when she sees Fen desperately throwing clothes into the bottom drawer. “I’ll have to refold all that once he’s gone to kindergarten on Monday.” The tone is humorous, like she’s loving watching her kid enjoy the crappy bit of furniture. “It’s perfect where it is. Thank you.”

I nod. There’s nothing else left to say. I can leave knowing I did my good deed for the day.

Except, when I go down the stairs and see that shitty lock, I get irritated all over again.

My truck is right outside the door, the bags safely locked in the back. I need to get into it and drive through the night to Kansas City to pick up the lead of the man who killed Hallie and Lottie.

I check the time. I need to leave now.

First, protecting the living is more important than avenging the dead.

Spark is in my fucking head, playing like a record. I can make a choice. Get in the truck, disobey my president, and go and find the two men who might know?—

I sigh. Butcher is right. The chances of them knowing anything is slim.

Worse, Spark is right too. Protecting the livingismore important than avenging the dead. I don’t know how Raven got those bruises…but she isn’t getting any more.

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