Never Tell Them by N.L. Hinkens (android e book reader .TXT) 📕

all settled into your mother’s place?“ Evelyn inquired, her prickly tone conveying her distaste for him.

“More or less. I didn’t have much to unpack.” He fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt as if feeling the need to explain himself further. ”I … thought it best for Henry to have a fresh start away from the home he associates with his mother.”

“And where’s that?” Evelyn asked.

“Richmond, Virginia,” Ray said. “I’ve—we’ve been living there for the past ten years.”

“It must be overwhelming having to deal with so much loss at once,” Sonia said.

Ray gave a stiff nod. “It’s been … difficult.”

“Can I offer you something to drink?” Sonia asked. “Glass of wine, sparkling cider, water? Sorry I don’t have any beer. My ex was a big beer drinker. Uh—” She trailed off, painfully aware that she was prattling on again.

“Sparkling cider sounds great,” Ray said. He glanced nervously over his shoulder as Sonia opened a bottle of Martinelli’s. “Do you think we should check on the kids?”

Evelyn threw him a sharp look as she set three glasses down on the counter. ”I’m sure Jessica won’t let Henry out of her sight. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll peek in on them.”

A look of relief flitted across Ray’s face. ”That would be great. It’s just that … with everything that’s happened, Henry’s … not himself. He cries himself to sleep every night.”

Sonia tutted sympathetically as she poured the drinks.

“It’s kind of you to invite us over,” Ray said hesitantly, once Evelyn had shuffled out of the kitchen. ”I sense your mother doesn’t have a very high opinion of me—Celia being her friend and all. She probably thinks I’m a right heel for never visiting my mother.”

“It’s none of our business,” Sonia replied, avoiding eye contact as she lifted a cast iron pot out of the oven. “Celia was a sweet neighbor, but every family has their issues.”

Ray took a gulp of his drink. ”My father was extremely abusive to me and my brother, Tom.”

Sonia bit her lip. “That’s awful. Did … Celia know?”

“Yes, she refused to leave him.” He traced his fingertips over his jaw. “She was too scared of him to do the right thing. She lied to Child Protective Services when a teacher reported our bruises.” Ray paused, his forehead rumpling as if revisiting the betrayal. “When I left home at sixteen, I was a broken kid. It took me years to recover. My father suffered a heart attack and died a few months after I left. But, I vowed I’d never return home. I couldn’t bear the thought of ever setting eyes on my mother again, or even hearing her voice—it just … triggered everything.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sonia choked out, tossing the potholders on the counter and reaching for her glass. A pang of guilt hit when she saw the wretched expression etched on Ray’s face. Surely no one could fake that kind of pain. Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge him. She had no idea what it was like to be raised by an abusive parent, but she did know something about the toll abuse took on the soul. ”I can understand why you wouldn’t want to visit your mother under those circumstances.” She hesitated before adding, “My ex-husband was abusive. And a liar too. There’s nothing I hate more than being lied to. Thankfully, I have a very supportive mother. I couldn’t have gone through my divorce without her.”

“You’re lucky to have her. I’m sure she’s a big help with Jessica.”

Sonia swallowed a mouthful of sparkling cider, twisting the stem of her glass between her fingers. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to your wife?”

Ray dropped his gaze. “She had … stomach cancer—stage four. By the time they discovered it, it was too late.”

Sonia blew out a heavy breath. “That’s so sad. You really have been through the ringer.”

“The hardest part is figuring out how to raise a four-year-old alone. Anyway, I didn’t mean to start the evening out on such a downer. I just thought you deserved an explanation.” Ray tweaked a grin and raised his glass. “Here’s to not being victims anymore.”

“Is dinner ready?” Jessica cried out, as she burst into the room. ”Henry’s hungry.”

“Yes, all set,” Sonia replied, setting down her glass and kicking into gear. “Go get Grandma and Henry.”

She placed the Mikasa stoneware serving dishes in the center of the table as everyone took their places. ”Ray, you’re the guest, so dig in. I’ll leave you to make a plate for Henry.”

“The table looks amazing,” Ray said, running an admiring eye over the rustic floral centerpiece and pillar candlesticks. “You have such an artful touch. Your clients must love you.”

Sonia unfolded her linen napkin, fighting to keep her expression neutral when she saw the overly generous helping of food Ray dished out for Henry. Was he actually that clueless about how much a four-year-old could eat? Maybe her mother was right, and he hadn’t spent much time at home with Henry before his wife passed away.

Evelyn raised her brows, a pinched expression on her face. “Make sure to leave room for my brownies and ice cream.”

”My grandma makes the best brownies,” Jessica said, turning to Henry. “Do you like brownies?”

Henry stared at her, his mouth full of potato. After a long moment, he gave an indifferent shrug.

“How about homemade ice cream?” Jessica persisted.

Henry looked as if he was about to shrug again, but Ray spoke up for him. “Henry loves ice cream.” He lowered his voice before adding, “He … wasn’t allowed to eat it very often.”

After the kids had gobbled up their dessert and scampered off to play, Sonia got up to make some coffee.

Evelyn pinned a penetrating gaze on Ray. ”So, can we expect to see something of your brother now too?”

A tiny furrow formed on Ray’s brow. “I’m not in contact with him either. To be honest, I have no idea where he lives.” He scratched the back of his neck. ”Actually, I