AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ray rolled her eyes toward me, her lips quirked into a smirk, as if to say,Whatam I going to do about that kid?
There was an adoration in her eyes I never stopped admiring. The love she held for her son, her devotion to him. It amazed and fascinated me … and it made me jealous. Jealous of a kid more than half my age. Because he had been born under one of the worst circumstances imaginable. Some mothers would've hated him, resented him, held their trauma against him … and it would've been understood. Hell, my mother had resented me for less.
But not Ray.
She had this ability—thisgift—to separate the child from the circumstances in which she'd had him. She could separate Noah from the bastard who had given him to her. She was the strongest, most beautiful person I'd everknown—insideand out. And while I didn't believe anybody on this planet was perfect … she came really,really close.
“What?” she asked, squinting her eyes at me for a moment before turning them back on the road.
“Huh?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I snorted as I willed my heart to calm down. “Like what?”
“Idunno…” Shesmirked,her brows pinched with confusion. “You're just looking at me funny.”
Am I?
Forcing a chuckle, I tore my gaze away and shook my head as I busied myself with the radio buttons. But while I searched absentmindedly for a new song to listen to, I wondered how exactly I'd been looking at her. What kind of look was it … apart from funny? And what did it mean? Would I even know?
Most days, it was effortless to go with the natural flow of this relationship. It was easy to navigate. But every now and then, the truth that I didn't know how to be a boyfriend hit me with the force of a thousand bricks, and I wished Grampa were alive so I could get his advice.
Maybe I should call Harry, I thought stupidly as I settled on a station playing an old Seether song.
“They used to be one of my favorite bands,” Ray said, making small talk. Probably intentionally to steer the topic away from funny looks and the question of what they meant.
“Oh, yeah?”
She nodded. “I used to think I was such a badass, listening to them and Breaking Benjamin and …” She tipped her head contemplatively before snapping her fingers and pointing at me. “Oh! You know who I used to love too?Staind. They were amazing.”
“All of them were pretty good,” I agreed.
“What music did you listen to when you were younger?”
I didn't like talking much about when Ihad beenyounger, especially with her. But music had the potential to be harmless—unless talking about the memories tied toparticular songs. Like Stone Temple Pilots’ “Big Empty.” It would forever take me back to the side of the road, watching as Billy’s body was stuffed into a black bag.
“Um, I listened to the usual stuff,” I told her. “Like this”—I gestured toward the speaker—“or, you know, like you said, Breaking Benjamin,Staind, Marilyn Manson …”
“Well, of course. Because youwerea badass,” she jabbed, reaching over to poke me in the side while her lips stretched into a teasing grin.
But I didn't smile back.
So much forsafe.
“I wasn't a badass, Ray,” I argued, furrowing my brow. “I wasbad. There's a difference.”
“You weren'tthatbad.” Her voice was quiet, hushed. Barely audible above Shaun Morgan's gruff, surly vocals.
“No, I was pretty fucking bad.” I mean, I had sold drugs to high school kids, for crying out loud.
“You might've done bad things,” she countered in a whisper, “but you were still a good person. I knew bad people, Soldier, and you weren't it. Not to me.”
I couldn't argue that, so I didn't.
Instead, I cleared my throat and said, “Anyway, um … but mostly, I listened to the stuff my grandparents' liked.”
Ray smiled. “Like what?”
