Page 70 of Redeeming Rabbit

He grabbed my whiskey and took another drink. I held my hand out for it, but again, the bastard kept it out of my reach.

“That shit’s expensive. If you’re not gonna share, stay the fuck out of it.”

He leveled a look at me.“Consider it the cost of your first therapy session.”

“Unscrupulous bastard. I knew you were tryin’ to trick me. Well, it ain’t gonna work. I’m not getting therapy. Especially from a quack who can’t even commit.”

Sage raised both hands in mock horror. “Oooh, the patient attempts to push me away with hateful words. Good one. Nobody’s ever tried that on me before. How ever will I cope?”

I flipped the sarcastic motherfucker off.

He ignored the bird and leaned forward. “Allow me to clue you in on a little secret, Rabbit. Nobody has their shit together. Some of us are just more adept at faking it.”

Even alcohol-addled as I was, I could see the parallel he was trying to draw between us—between me and all my brothers—but I wasn’t falling for that shit. “The others might have issues, but they’re nowhere as fucked up as me. If they were, this fire escape would be much more crowded.”

“Wow. You seriously believe you’re more dysfunctional than mass murderers, child molesters, and politicians, don’t you? That’s some fuckin’ ego.”

“Everyone makes it sound like you walk on water, but you’re a son-of-a-bitch.”

“No. I’m exactly what you need me to be. You don’t respond well to kindness—likely because you haven’t experienced it much—so fuck that. You want real, let’s keep it real.”

“A real dickhead, you mean.”

He chuckled. “Everyone’s got a little asshole in them. You just have to know when to let it loose.”

I was being manipulated—he’d clearly admitted as much—so why was I starting to like the bastard? Something about him made me want to get everything off my chest, goddammit, and that was unacceptable. Even though I couldn’t recall why. Elenore had promised me a blowjob if I got help, so why wouldn’t I at least try? Talking couldn’t be so bad, could it? Needing a moment to clear my head, I focused back on the ground.

“Why did you go into the service?” I asked.

“The GI Bill.” The randomness of my question hadn’t even thrown him off.

“Really?”

“Sorry. Were you expecting something a little more altruistic?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t you want to protect our citizens or help children in third-world countries or some shit?”

“Not particularly. I wanted an education that wouldn’t put me in debt for the rest of my life.” His tone was serious. Genuine. “What about you?”

“Didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I hadn’t meant to tell him, but there it was.

“Were you in the foster system?”

I shook my head. “Nothing like that. My mom is….” How the fuck was I supposed to finish that sentence? With no good alternative, I gave up. “I’m not gonna sit here and bitch about my childhood. No, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but I had it better than some. We had food, and there was always a roof over my head. My father’s a useless piece of shit, and Mom did the best she could.”

Sage nodded. “I hear what you’re saying, but children need more than that to thrive.”

Thriving hadn’t been an option, but we’d survived. “I didn’t exactly make Mom’s life easy, always fuckin’ up something. But my last stunt… I have no regrets about that one.”

Sage didn’t respond.

I turned away. It was easier to open up when I wasn’t looking at him. “My mom was seeing this guy, and I didn’t appreciate the way he was lookin’ at my little sister. I told him to keep his goddamn eyes to himself, and when he didn’t, I beat the shit out of him. The cops were called, and it turned out the asshole had a warrant for his arrest. Petty theft or some shit like that. Anyway, the cop who booked me had a cousin who was a recruiter.”

“Convenient.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. I think they believed they were helping me. It was a week before my eighteenth birthday, and I was fresh out of high school, trying to figure out what to do with my life. I had the grades to get into college but definitely not the money. My neighbor—a mechanic who worked out of his garage—had taught me his craft. I’d been earning money helping him with jobs here and there, but it wasn’t a steady paycheck. And I sure as shit didn’t have a savings account.”

Again, Sage said nothing.

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