Page 37 of Traitor
Chapter Fourteen
Ford
Three dayslater and I still can’t get Peyton out of my skull. I’d like to think that’s why, as I drive away from my latest doctor’s appointment, I can’t seem to shake my splitting headache. I grumble as I navigate through traffic with Lexie, who Mercy neglected to mention needed a babysitter while she was off doing God knows what.
“Do you always cuss like that?”
I grit my teeth to keep from doing exactly that. “Like what?”
Lexie repeats some of my choicer words and I scowl. I’m such a great influence. It’s easy to forget she’s not one of the guys when I’m relaxed. I haven’t had much experience around kids, but even I know foul language is probably a no-no. “Don’t let your momma hear you talking like that.”
“She wouldn’t care,” Lexie says, and crosses her arms over her chest. “She doesn’t care about anything but her boyfriends. She wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared.”
Dear God, save me from teenage girls. And clueless sisters. Sometimes I miss the desert where my problems were actual minefields, instead of the metaphorical female kind. “You know she would. And if that doesn’t matter to you, I’m here, I would.”
Lexie snorts. “Yeah, right.”
My head twinges and I regret not taking my doctor up on those pain meds he said were a dream for Traumatic Brain Injuries. It hasn’t even been five minutes since the appointment and I’m already feeling tense. “What? You don’t think I care about you?”
“C’mon, Uncle Ford, we barely see each other and even when we do, you act like you can’t wait to leave,” she says with her forehead pressed against the truck window.
“Look, kid, just because I’m not the talkative type doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. You’re family. All I know is if your mother or grandmother heard you swearin’ up a storm like that, they’ll havemyhide. So, do me a favor and give me a break for once, please? If not, put me out of my misery already.”
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes at me.
“What happened to you?” she asks. “Why do you have to go to the doctor.”
I groan mentally. “I got hurt,” I say, missing the days when she had been a baby and the most noise she made was cooing or crying.
“How?”
Glancing over at her, I ruffle her hair and she squeals. “You know you ask a lot of questions?”
“You know you don’t answer a lot of questions?” she shoots back.
The smirk I’d been wearing falls and I scowl. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Guess it runs in the family.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. “You’re just like your mom, I swear to God.”
“She says I’m just like you.” She smiles, but she doesn’t let up. “So, what happened to you?”
I’ve long since gotten used to that question. “My unit was attacked last year. You’ve seen how the war is over there.”
Her face grows serious. “Like on TV?”
“Sort of. Well anyway, the bad guys were shooting at my unit. They shot an explosive at our convoy and it knocked me around a little. Hurt like hell and my head hasn’t been the same since.”
“You hurt your brain?” she repeats, her voice going higher at the end. “How come I didn’t know about this? Are you okay?”
“You’re regretting giving me such a hard time now, aren’t you?”
“Not a chance,” she says, smiling. Then she repeats, “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m gonna be fine, kid. It’s not like I haven’t been hurt before.”
“You’ve been shot atmore than once?” she squeals, and I realize maybe I should have kept that little piece of information to myself.