Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(109)

Uncle Tex, to my knowledge, never used the cel phone I bought him and his cel was the only number of his I had programmed in my phone.

I flipped it open. “Hel o?”

“Why’d you drive by? Saw you doin’ it, f**kin hel ,” Uncle Tex said.

I blinked in the dark cab. “Where are you?”

“Standin’ in Hank’s living room window. Jesus. What’re you, goin’ out for ice cream?”

I turned to Hank, he was driving and scrol ing through his phone book at the same time.

“Uncle Tex is in your living room. He saw us drive by,” I told Hank.

Hank glanced at me, flipped his phone shut, then, at the next crossroads, he swung a uey.

“We’re coming back,” I told Uncle Tex.

“See you in a minute,” then Uncle Tex disconnected.

“What’s Uncle Tex doing in your living room?” I asked Hank.

“Don’t know. I gave him a key when you moved in, just in case. He obviously used it.”

We skirted a block out of the way so Hank could park in front of his house. I got out of the SUV, met him on the sidewalk and we walked up together, Hank holding my hand.

He opened the door, dropped my hand, keeping me back at the door and went in first.

“Sweet Jesus,” I heard my mother say from somewhere inside the house.

Holy f**king cow.

I pushed in beside Hank.

Shamus came lurching toward us, in ful body wag, he head-butted Hank’s thighs.

That’s al I saw. I was staring at my mother and father, who were sitting on Hank’s couch.

My Mom looked like an older version of me; tal , curvy, she’d gone a bit round and her hair was now dyed blonde.

she’d gone a bit round and her hair was now dyed blonde.

My Dad looked like a cuddly gnome, redheaded, blue-eyed, shorter than my mother (and me) by at least four inches and he sported a big beer bel y.

Obviously, Uncle Tex had done as he’d threatened and cal ed my Mom.

Shit.

“Sweet Jesus,” my mother repeated, stil staring at Hank and slowly coming up from the couch.

Dad was staring at me. “Roxie,” he whispered and I watched as he also got up.

I took in his face, wearing an expression I’d never seen before in my life, an expression that could only be described as “ravaged with worry”.

“Dad,” I whispered back.

Dad walked across the room, grabbed my upper arms and pul ed me roughly to him.

After he hugged me, he pushed me away, again with his hands at my arms, and stared at me. Although I knew the swel ing on my face was long gone and the bruising was (almost) completely gone, the scabs where Bil y cut me with his rings were healing but stil there.

“I’m going to f**king kill that motherf*cker,” Dad said.

I closed my eyes.

“Herb!” Mom snapped and I opened them again. “Not in front of Roxie’s young man.”

Good God.

For the first time, Dad’s eyes moved to Hank and he let me go.

“I’m Herb Logan, Roxie’s Dad,” he put his hand out toward Hank.

Hank took his hand and they shook.

“Hank Nightingale.”

“Sweet, sweet Jesus,” Mom whispered, staring, bright-eyed at Hank shaking hands with Dad.

Dad dropped Hank’s hand and backed away.

“This is my wife, Trish. The Good Lord overwhelms her on occasion. I find it best to just ignore it,” Dad advised Hank.

Hank smiled at Mom.

She stared at him a beat and then her eyes rol ed back into her head.

“The Lord our Savior heard my prayers,” she told the inside of her eyebal s.

“Mom!” I cried, sounding uppity.

Her eyes rol ed back to normal and then she bugged them out at me. “What?” Mom said, sounding just as uppity as me. “He’s cute.”

This was not happening. None of it. It was just not happening.

I turned to Hank. “You can kil me now. Just take out your gun and shoot me. It’s okay. I give you permission.” Hank looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. He pul ed me to him with an arm around my neck.

“Sweet Jesus! Sweet, sweet Jesus!” Mom cal ed to the Savior, caught up in the divine intervention that was Hank and me.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Stop cal ing Jesus, Mom.

Hank’s gonna think you’re weird,” I snapped.

“She is weird,” Dad said.

“I’m not weird,” Mom returned.

“Trish, you’re a f**kin’ nut. Always were,” Uncle Tex boomed, cal ing our attention to him for the first time then he turned to Hank. “It runs on our side of the family.” That’s when it hit me.

Mom and Uncle Tex in the same room. Mom and Uncle Tex in the same room after years and years of not talking to or seeing each other.

I looked between them. Then I looked again.

Then my eyes fil ed with tears.

“Mom,” I muttered, staring at her.

Her eyes fil ed with tears too.

“I know,” she muttered back.

I walked out from Hank’s arm, hugged my Mom then turned my head to Uncle Tex.

“Get over here,” I ordered, my voice shaky with tears.

“Good f**king Lord. I wish Sweet Jesus would come and save me now,” Uncle Tex said.