9
Flynn
I shouldn’t have been surprised by Pa’s behavior at breakfast. The way Saige shuddered beside me throughout the entire meal made me want to punch my fist through his teeth. At least he hadn’t gotten physical like he’d done with Ma all those years ago.
Burned food had always earned her a backhand across the face. Weak coffee had once gotten his mug dumped down her chest, and I’d caught sight of her a few hours later caring for the blistered skin beneath her top. My growl at seeing her in pain had gotten me shushed, and I’d promised to let it go.
She’d fallen sick not long after if memory served me right. Not that the burn had anything to do with it. She couldn’t get out of bed after a couple weeks and laid there wasting away over the long winter months. Pa refused to radio for h
