Page 22 of Son of a Preacher Man
He swallowed. “Linnea.”
Not the best place to start, he was grateful when she didn’t press further. His relationship with his sister was complicated, and that was putting it mildly. He’d tell her everything when the time was right, once Kelly knew enough to hopefully understand.
The server brought them ‘killer’ margaritas and took their order. Kodiak clinked his glass with hers. “A truth for a truth.”
“What’s that?” She sat back in her seat, cocking her head. “Like twenty questions?”
“Kind of.” Locking eyes with hers, he took a drink. Her pupils flared. “You can ask me anything you want to, and I’ll give you my honest answer.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Seemingly in thought, Kelly pursed her lips from side to side. “Okay, what’s the catch?”
“Then I get to ask you one.” A smile slowly spread across his face. “Fair?”
“I guess so.”
Kodiak didn’t notice when the server brought it by, but a platter with fresh tortilla chips, salsa, guacamole, and esquites sat on the table. He picked up a chip, dipped it into the creamy mashed avocado, and leaning toward Kelly, fed it to her. “I’ll even let you go first.”
“Hmm, this might be fun.” She grinned, her tongue peeking out to swipe up guac from her lip. “Let’s see, I should start with something easy…who in your family are you closest to and why?”
He sniggered. Easy enough. “That would be my sister. She’s the only blood family I’ve got.”
“Oh…I’m so sorry.” Reaching across the table, Kelly took his hand. “What happened to your parents?”
And so, it begins…
With a slow exhale, Kodiak gave her hand a squeeze and let it go. He’d been toying with how to approach this from the moment he called her. His truths were triggering. The stories of his past stranger than fiction, even to him, and he’d lived them. So, like a book, perhaps it was best to deliver it in easier-to-swallow doses, one digestible chapter at a time.
“Linnea was a tiny baby when Grace died. She was…um…seventeen. Hanged herself.” Taking a swallow of tequila, he grimaced. Nasty shit. He’d always hated it. “Her grandmother raised her.”
Fucking witch.
Kodiak would never forget that day, the details of which still replayed in his head. He’d just sat down in front of the TV with a bowl of his favorite cereal to watch Scooby Doo until wrestling came on—WWF Livewire, never missed it. The phone rang, and the next thing he knew his father dragged him off the couch, Cap’n Crunch spilling to the floor, to get in the car.
No coat. Barefoot. Still in his pajamas. It was April. The Dairy Queen hadn’t reopened yet. He could hear Linnea screaming her little head off when his father opened Catherine’s front door. Jarrid tore up the stairs calling out for Grace, Kodiak coming in right behind him.
She was hanging there, swinging from a rope in her nightgown.
“Cut her down, will you?” Catherine just sat there, staring out the window. “And get that screeching thing out of my sight. I told you. She never should have been born.”
“Take the baby, Seth,” his father choked, steering him away from Grace’s body. “Wait for me downstairs.”
Linnea slept in her crib in his room for weeks after the funeral. Even as a ten-year-old child, he should’ve seen his father was just as horrible as Catherine, if not more so, for allowing a defenseless baby to return to the care of that woman. But he didn’t know what true evil really looked like. Not then. That would come later.
Motioning for the server, Kodiak finished off his margarita and ordered a pitcher of beer. While across from him, pretty eyes wide, Kelly sat holding her hand to her mouth.
“We have different mothers, obviously, and don’t bother asking about mine because I don’t know shit about her.” He rubbed the salt off the rim of his empty glass. “We’re both estranged from our father.”
“Why?”
“Simple answer? He’s an evil bastard.”
Balancing a large tray, the server returned with the beer and their dinner. She placed sizzling fajitas down in front of them, then quietly retreated.
“And the not so simple one?”
