Everywhere.

This made me suddenly aware that I was not.

I had great legs, this I’d already noted. I had an ample chest, which sometimes worked for me, sometimes was annoying when blouses gaped at my breasts. I also had a tiny waist, which made buying jeans a pain in the patoot, but looked good in dresses.

I also had a little pouch at my belly that no amount of cycling and snowboarding got rid of, mainly because I did crunches and pushups about twice a week rather than what I told myself I’d do (four times). I also liked hot fudge sundaes, Grams’s biscuits smothered in apple butter and a variety of other things that weren’t real good for me, so it was a battle I had no hope of winning.

Raiden had an eight pack (yes, eight), noticeably limited body fat and hip muscles so significantly cut you could lose yourself in those valleys for days.

Therefore, I decided no more hot fudge sundaes, definitely five days a week of crunches, pushups and I was adding planks. I was also cutting out sandwiches and eating salads for lunch, just in case the rest didn’t take.

“Baby, you stare at my dick any longer, Miss Mildred’s gonna have to send out a search party.”

My body jolted and my eyes shot to his to see the creases at the corners standing out in amusement.

“I was staring at your hip muscles,” I corrected.

“Whatever,” he muttered, his lips now smiling too, then louder, “just sayin’, anything in that vicinity, your eyes on it, it’ll get thoughts on its own.”

“So noted,” I mumbled and shrugged on my top.

“You had a question,” Raiden prompted, stepping into some boxer briefs.

I decided to stop watching so I could concentrate on buttoning my blouse, so I tipped my chin down to watch my fingers do just that as I asked, “What is this place?”

“Dad’s hunting lodge,” he answered and I looked at him again.

He was moving back to the chair and I was shocked at his words.

His sister Rachelle and I were only acquaintances, but friendly ones who had known each other our whole lives. We talked, gossiped, shared news and pleasantries, and if time allowed, sometimes this could go deep, but she’d never mentioned her Dad. The same, but obviously less, due to age differences, with Raiden’s Mom, Mrs. Miller.

What I knew was Mr. Miller took off and was persona non grata in town. He even once tried to come to one of Raiden’s football games and some of the men not so cordially invited him to march back to his car, and when he didn’t they escorted him there.

He never came again.

I looked back down at my buttons and said carefully, “Your Dad?”

“Yep,” Raiden replied, and I again looked at him to see he had a pair of suit pants up, zipped but unbuttoned and was shrugging on an attractive, moss green dress shirt.

Surprisingly, he also kept talking.

“When I was sixteen, tracked him down, told him to deed it over to Rachelle and me, seein’ as he paid child support when he wanted, which meant never, and Mom was havin’ troubles makin’ ends meet. It wasn’t a surprise, because he’s a massive dick, that he wasn’t feelin’ generous, though his words were that Mom could go fuck herself and I could too. So I drove to his house every night, let myself in and shared my thoughts with my fists. And when he got smart and started to talk his bitches into lettin’ him spend the night at their places so he could avoid me, I found ways to track him down and let myself in, shared he was a massive dick who didn’t pay child support and when he was at home and had a steady woman, he knocked her around. He suddenly found his choice of beds was dryin’ up, so he got smart and deeded it over.”

His words slicing through me like a dozen razor blades, I stood absolutely still and stared.

Raiden seemed not to notice my immobility. He went to the wardrobe, slid a belt off a hanger, turned to me and kept speaking as he did up his pants and added the belt.

“Meant we got the monthly money from rentin’ out the bottom half where Mr. Lean kept his old tractors and whatever we could get from hunters who don’t give a shit where they sleep and cross country skiers on a budget. Didn’t help a lot, but did mean we didn’t lose our house.”

“You nearly lost your house?” I asked quietly, and he smiled at me.

“Seems you didn’t pay that much attention to me.”

I did.

Still.

“I know you—” I started.

Raiden interrupted me, “Worked nights and weekends. Reason Rachelle is such a great cook is because she did the same at the nursing home, junior nurse’s aide. She loved downhome cooking and she pumped old folks for recipes. She’s got about eight card files full of ‘em.”

That explained that.

Now the hard part.

“Your Dad knocked your Mom around?”

“Yeah, babe, why do you think I set his ass out?” Raiden answered, and I went back to staring.

“You set him out?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“But weren’t you only fourteen?”

“You can fuck someone up, Hanna, you get a good boot in his crotch. He’s so busy dealin’ with the pain, can’t defend himself when you land a fist repeatedly in his face or a boot to his ribs.”

I couldn’t believe this, and more, I couldn’t believe Raiden was so matter-of-fact about it.

My heart hurt and my stomach was clutching, but I forced my mouth to say, “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Then I focused my attention on finding my flip-flops, mostly because I didn’t know what to do with all the feelings I was having, none of them good, and I had to focus on something.

“Hanna,” he called as I found my flip-flops and was shifting them with my toes so I could slide my feet in. I looked back at Raiden. “A long time ago and better with him gone. It was worth it. That shit didn’t mark me. He was gone, instant happy for all of us, even if things were tight.”

I nodded, not feeling mollified even slightly and looked back to my shoes.

“Honey,” he called again and my eyes went to him. “Not bullshitting you. Rache, Mom and me, we’re close. Him gone, we were happy.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“You say okay, but your face says something else.”

“What does my face say?” I asked, but I knew. I never played poker because I didn’t know how and also because I’d suck at it, mostly because I had no clue how to keep my thoughts from showing, nor, until then, had I had any reason to.

“One of two things, can’t tell which. Either you’re pissed or you’re about ready to cry.”

I turned my full attention to him. “Both, I guess.”

“Right, then, like I said. No need for that emotion because it was and is all good.”

“I can sense that, considering the matter-of-fact way you’re discussing it, sweetheart,” I told him. “But I don’t like that you went through that or that things were tight for you guys or that you had to get in your Dad’s face to get him to do something to help take care of his own kids.”

“It happened, but it’s been done for nearly twenty years.”

“I still don’t like it.”

He grinned. “I’ll give you that ‘cause it’s cute, but you got until we get to your house to get over it.”

To that, I returned, “My Mom and Dad love each other and they loved me and Jeremy. My grandparents loved us until they died. My great-grandmother dotes on me. All of my life, I had love and safety. Life didn’t touch me until I decided to start living it, and the worst thing that’s ever happened to me was what Bodhi and Heather did, and that’s on them, not on me. I never had what you had. I don’t know what to do with knowing you had to deal with that. I don’t like knowing you had to deal with that. And I just learned about it so it may take longer than the next twenty minutes for me to get over wanting to reenact the boot to crotch maneuver on your Dad. Because you’re an awesome guy, Raiden Miller. Your Mom and sister love you because they have reason. You’re a gentleman. You’re a kind neighbor. You’re even a hero with the medals to prove it. And you deserve a Dad who taught you how to be that. Not a life that led you to being that despite having a massive dick for a Dad.”

I made my stupid speech and shut up.

Only then did I feel the room and fully take in the look on his face.

Both made me take a step back, because the former was pressing on me like a weight I instinctively felt I had to escape, and the latter was reeling me in on a lure so strong it was a wonder I didn’t fly across the room and into his arms.

The intensity of both scared the heck out of me.

“You need, right now, to walk down to your car, Hanna,” he told me.

That was so weird, I stammered, “I… sorry?”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“But—”

The air in the room got heavier right before he ordered, “Go, Hanna. You don’t, we won’t. Do you understand me?”

I didn’t, not fully.

What I did understand was that I needed to walk down to my car.

So I gave him one long, last look, memorizing the look he was giving me and the way it made me feel: terrified, but at the same time warm and happy.

Then I walked across his crazy pad and unlocked the door, moved through it and descended the steps to get to my car.

* * *

Two hours later…

I woke up when my pillow started shaking.

When I did, I saw I was in church and had my head on the navy blue fabric of Raiden’s suit-jacketed shoulder.

A Raiden who was silently laughing.

I bolted straight.

“Sweet Jesus, forgive her,” Grams, who was sitting on the other side of me, murmured to the ceiling. “Pastor Wright’s sermon is far from inspiring, you hear that, Lord, but still. My precious girl’s got better manners.”