My mouth dropped open, but Mrs. Miller’s snapped loudly, “Rachelle!”
She grinned unrepentantly at her mother and made a whiplash noise.
“I’m not sure Raiden is whipped,” I shared, and Rachelle looked at me.
Then she laid it out.
Scarily, wonderfully, and as Rachelle had a tendency to do, hilariously.
“Your Honor, exhibit A: the pretty girl calls him Raiden when no one calls him Raiden because he fuckin’ hates to be called Raiden,” she said and I stared.
I didn’t know that.
“Rache, don’t say the f-word,” Mrs. Miller hissed.
Rachelle ignored her mother. “Exhibit B: Raid sits his ass in a movie theater, probably spending those hours not watching the movie but thinking of shit he could blow up, tracks he can race on an ATV or other things he could be using that time getting up to with his girl.”
“I’m so sorry, Hanna, when she’s on a roll—” Mrs. Miller started to say to me.
“Exhibit C,” Rachelle pushed on, but her face changed, her eyes locked on me and she finished, “he lets go and laughs. All the fuckin’ time. Finally letting people see he’s actually genuinely happy.”
I knew what she was saying and my throat instantly clogged.
“I’ll get you a white wine,” she stated in conclusion.
She ducked her head, hiding her eyes and moved away.
With difficulty, I swallowed and felt my hand taken in Mrs. Miller’s.
“Can we sit a bit before Raid gets here?” she requested on a hand squeeze.
I nodded. Still coping with Rachelle’s emotional bombs and uncertain about sitting a bit with Raid’s mother, I had no choice, so we moved to a table by the window.
She sat opposite me.
I’d learned, seeing as I was dealing with one of the Millers, so I braced.
It was a good thing to do.
“Don’t let Rachelle upset you,” she said.
“I’m not upset,” I assured her, which was kind of a lie. I was upset, but not in a bad way.
Actually, I was moved.
“We’re just… we’re just…” she looked out the window then back at me, “real happy that he’s settling down.”
I nodded.
Her eyes drifted out the window, and to give her time without my gaze on her, mine did too.
“He talks to you.”
It was barely a whisper, but I heard it and I looked at her.
Her eyes were still out the window.
When I didn’t have a ready answer, she kept going, aiming her words to me but out the window.
“He came back and he…” I watched her pull in breath, “life changes people. Things happen. It’s the way life is, but that was… that wasn’t how he was different.”
Oh God.
She turned her head and looked right at me.
“He was gone. We tried, Rache and me to… well, he shut us down. He would smile, pretend to be himself, but he wasn’t. A mother knows. A sister knows. He wasn’t our Raid.”
“I know,” I replied softly.
“He’s back,” she declared, and my heart skipped.
“I—”
Her hand shot across the table and closed around mine so hard it caused pain.
“He talks to you.” It wasn’t a statement but a question.
I couldn’t tell her how he did, but he didn’t.
I just said, “Yes, Mrs. Miller. He talks to me.”
“Ruthie, honey, told you to call me Ruthie.”
She did so I nodded again.
Her hand tightened further around mine and I fought back a wince.
“You’ll find out, I pray to God, you’ll find out that a mother has many nightmares. I know that sounds funny, but don’t get me wrong. You’re happy to live with them, because to be a mother, you get to create these tiny little living, breathing dreams that grow up to be splendid things. But for a woman with a son, that’s the worst. When he’s gone. What he’s doing. You pray so much he comes back safe, you forget to pray to God to keep him safe from all the ways he could be damaged. My son was damaged.”
Her hand lifted mine an inch off the table and her eyes got bright.
Mine did too.
“Thank you for fixing him,” she whispered.
I held her hand tight right back, leaned in and said gently, but honestly, “My work isn’t done, Ruthie.”
“I’m sure. But I have faith in you.”
Oh God.
I swallowed back the tears.
“I’ll do my best,” I promised.
“You already are.”
Seriously. This was beautiful, but I could take no more.
“You know,” I blurted, “Grams would lose it if she saw me, a Boudreaux, crying in the local café.”
“Then pull yourself together, bitch,” Rachelle, there with my wine and setting it on the table, declared. “Suck that back.” She advised and turned to her mother. “Mom, Raid walks in here and sees you all mushy with his woman, he’s gonna lose his mind. Suck it up.”
Then she flounced away.
Ruthie looked at me, her mouth twitching. “She’s not wrong.”
“You made him so I’m sure you know this a lot better than me, but he can have his macho man fit. It’ll blow over, and through it we just do our own thing.”
Her eyes lit, her hand let mine go and she replied, “Now I’m seeing how you can wring miracles.”
“I give all the credit to Grams and KC. Grams is wise and says it straight. KC lives with an alpha and also says it straight. They’re my gurus,” I shared.
“If you need another guru, you know where to find me, and do not take that as me asking you to share with me where my son is at. If he wants me to know that, he’ll tell me. You’re not on the hot seat. Just that I know Raid pretty well and I’m happy to do my bit.”
I smiled at her.
She smiled back then shouted, “Rache! I’m off!”
“I’ll call Gazz and warn him you’re on the emotional warpath and he’s up next on your agenda,” Rachelle shouted back.
Ruthie had stood through this and she smiled down at me. “Again, she’s not wrong.”
I giggled.
She reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear.
That was familiar, coming from a Miller.
And sweet.
I stopped giggling.
“Later, Hanna.”
“Have a good night with Gazz, Ruthie.”
She winked at me and took off.
I sipped wine, looked out the window and dragged in a deep breath to pull myself together.
I sort of accomplished this feat when I felt a presence join me at the table. I jumped in surprise, but turned my head smiling, thinking I’d see Raiden.
It wasn’t Raiden.
It was a good-looking, well-dressed man staring at me with eyes that were almost as amazing as Raid’s.
Thinking he was going to come onto me, I told him, “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”
“Yes. And when he gets here, I’m asking you to give Miller a message to give to Knight.”
My back went straight, my skin started tingling (and not in a good way) and I stared.
He didn’t hesitate.
“Tell him to tell Knight that he’s being careful, but not careful enough. Tell him that Nair is not going to give up. Tell him he’s going to have to do something in a permanent way to shut Nair down. Do you have that?”
My eyes narrowed even as my hand shifted back toward my cell in my pocket. “Who are you?”
“I’m Nick. Miller will get me. Knight will definitely get me. And you, don’t worry. Nair is not focused on Miller. He doesn’t even know who Miller is. He’s not focused on anybody but Knight. Nair has no clue you exist and doesn’t give a fuck. But I needed a way in. You were it.”
“If you have something to say to—” I began.
“If you want me to lead them to your man, then yeah, I’ll talk direct to him. If you want them to keep their focus on my brother, then you’ll tell Miller everything I said.”