Angel of Redemption (16 page)

“
Hi,
”
I squeak.

“
I just came to let Dean know dinner
’
s ready. Are you going to be joining
us? I
’
m
sure all the boys would love it.
”

“
No. I really need to get home, but
thank you.
”
I smile at her and then turn back to
face Dean. His eyes are trained on Tracey, a sour look on his face. It appears
that his mood has changed
—
again. I stand up.
“
Next week, Dean?
”
I pull out my phone to check my calendar.
“
I can meet on Tuesday at two o
’
clock if you
’
d like.
”

“
That
’
s fine,
”
he says curtly. With a wave of his hand, I
’
m dismissed. Wow.

Tracey
opens the door for me as I grab my coat. I glance one last time at Dean, but he
’
s obviously shut down. He won
’
t
even look at me.

“
Have a good night.
”
I sigh and walk out the door.

At
home, I sit on the couch with my computer in my lap. Andy is nowhere to be
found and Claire is holed up in the guest room doing homework or something. I
’
m alone with my thoughts
—
and a search engine.

I
close my eyes, hoping the damn thing will stop taunting me, but it doesn
’
t. I need to know everything I can
about Dean Wyatt. And it
’
s all only a click away. I hate this. I hate the guilt that
’
s already flooding through me for even
considering looking him up. I hate that I
’
m about to completely disregard that guilt. I
type
“
Dean Wyatt arrest”
and quickly hit
SEARCH
, not giving myself a chance to back
out.

The
first thing that pops up is from
The Star
Tribune
. My fingers tap against the keyboard nervously. I feel like I
’
m snooping.

Click.

A
picture of a very young Dean appears on the screen. He can
’
t have been more than fifteen or sixteen when it was taken.
It looks like a yearbook photo. Under the photo, the caption reads,
“
Dean
Wyatt, 2001
.
”
He
’
s clean cut, all smiles, and
absolutely adorable. Next to it is a mug shot. It
’
s
Dean, a little bit older and a little bit harder. His eyes are what get me
—
he looks broken.

My
lungs burn; my vision blurs. I hadn
’
t even realized that I
’
d been holding my breath. I let it all out at once and
close my eyes.

Dean
went to jail on drug possession charges. That
’
s
it? It
’
s
horrible, but I was expecting something much worse, like grand theft auto or
assault. Andy said he was in juvie. Maybe he got such a harsh sentence because
he had a juvenile record. I mean, he wasn
’
t
even out buying or selling. He was just in the car with his wife.

His
wife.

Stephanie
Wyatt.

Where
the hell is she now? How long did he serve? Did she wait for him? I shouldn
’
t have looked. All I want to do is go
to sleep and forget.

Unfortunately,
that doesn
’
t
happen. I toss and turn all night, dreaming of showing up at Wyatt House and
being met at the door by a gorgeous, tall, blond woman with long legs and big,
perky breasts. She
’
s got a huge diamond on her finger and a smug smile on her
lips.

“
I
’
m Stephanie, Dean
’
s wife,
”
she greets.

“
Kayla,
”
I respond.

“
Oh, the social worker. Matty mentioned
you.
”

“
Matty did?
”

“
Yeah, he
’
s such a great kid. We talked for
hours. Actually, Dean and I were thinking about adopting him.
”
She motions for me to come in. It
’
s really weird. The house looks
completely different and yet the same. I blink and we
’
re in a bedroom. She
’
s standing in a negligee, and Dean is
behind her wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans. I can see his
tattoos, but they
’
re
not clear. Together, they look like the cover of a romance novel.

They
completely ignore me as Dean grabs her neck and pulls her to him. They
’
re kissing
—
passionately. I
’
m uncomfortable. This is messed up. I turn to walk away,
but the door is closed and locked. I can
’
t get out. I can hear them moaning behind me. I want out. I
don
’
t
want to see this. I hear slapping skin and groans and grunts. I shake the
handle on the door a little bit harder.

“
Kayla.
”
I hear Dean
’
s voice call out. I don
’
t look at him. I don
’
t want to see him with her.
“
Kayla.
”
I
’
m getting dizzy.
“
Kayla!
”

My
eyes snap open and I see Andy standing over me.

“What?” I groan.

“
Jesus. That must have been some dream.
I
’
ve been trying to wake you up for five
minutes. It
’
s
seven-thirty. I
’
m
going to run Claire to school and head to work.
”

I
blink heavily a few times and clear my throat.
“
I
’
m getting up.
”

I
take my time getting ready, trying to forget my dream. I wish I hadn
’
t been so nosy. Now I have even more
questions and an irrational jealousy toward a woman I
’
ve never met.

Kayla

“
Helloooo.
Earth to Kayla?
”

“
Huh?
”

“
Where are you?
”

I
shake my head.
“
I
’
m here, I promise. God, it
’
s freaking cold out here. Hurry up so
we can go back inside.
”

Sara
and I are standing outside a club we like to frequent. We
’
re huddled together under an outdoor
heat lamp so Sara can smoke a cigarette. She
’
s not usually a smoker except when she
’
s been drinking. She hands me the cig
and I take a long drag before handing it back to her. I
’
m not a smoker, either. I take a drink
of whatever the hell is in my glass to wash away the nasty smoke taste.

Sara
stubs out the butt and we head back in.
“
Where
did Warren go?
”
she asks, lifting up onto her toes as
if that
’
s
actually going to help her. Even with the three-and-a-half
-
inch heels she
’
s sporting, she
’
s still only about five foot six at
best.

“
Do you see him?
”

“
No.
”

“
You
’
re not even looking,
”
she whines. I giggle and take another sip of my drink. I
don
’
t
need to look for Warren
—
he always finds me. Moments later,
Sara is dragged onto the dance floor by some random guy. Okay, not really
dragged
—she
goes willingly. He
’
s cute in an overgrown-frat-boy kind
of way. I
’
ve dated my fair share of that kind of
guy, but only because that
’
s who I was always around in my fancy private high school.
Now I like them a little rougher around the edges.

I
sway to the music all by myself, watching the bodies on the dance floor moving
and grinding. It
’
s
times like these that I wish I wasn
’
t going home alone. But I grew out of the screwing random
strangers phase shortly after I graduated college, got a job, and was forced to
become a grown up. Now I
’
m destined to watch as others hook up in front of me while
I go home to the house I share with my brother, my empty bed, and my vibrating
friend, Mr. Big. Just the thought of all those things in one sentence depresses
me.

Strong
arms slip around my waist and I tense for a moment, looking down. I recognize
the hands
—o
r rather, the large gold ring on the right one. I lean backward,
feeling his lips against the skin just behind my ear.

“
Ven a bailar conmigo
.
”

I
don
’
t
speak Spanish, but I understand enough to know what he
’
s asking. I turn in his arms and smile
up at him.

“
Let
’
s go, then.
”
Taking his hand in mine, I lead him into the mass of
bodies. I love dancing with Warren. He makes me feel incredibly sexy. I think I
dance better when his hands are on me. Depending on how much we
’
ve had to drink, his hands will
occasionally roam. I don
’
t mind as long as he knows the boundaries.

Warren
continues to whisper in my ear. I don
’
t know what he
’
s saying, but I
’
m pretty sure it
’
s dirty, whatever it is. I love it, because it makes me
smile. He
’
s
a good friend. Sara joins us a little later after dumping the random.
Apparently, he got a little too worked up and, after dodging his tongue a dozen
times, she gave up and ran away.

I
stop drinking around one o
’
clock, and by two we leave the club. I share a cab with
Sara because she lives in Edina, less than ten miles away from me. Warren lives
in the other direction in Plymouth. For a guy with a multi-million-dollar trust
fund, he lives modestly. His house is still way too big for one person and
really nice, but it isn
’
t all decked out in expensive shit. He
’
s a bachelor; for him it
’
s about comfort. That
’
s one more thing I love about the man.

Luckily
I
’
m not too hungover when I wake up in
the morning. I
’
m
thirsty and craving bacon, but that
’
s probably because I can smell it wafting through the
house. I lie in bed until I can
’
t stand it anymore and finally drag myself down the stairs
into the kitchen, where I find Andy slaving over the stove. He
’
s got bacon cooking on one burner and
scrambled eggs on another.

“
You look like shit!
”
he laughs. I grunt and flip him off before grabbing a piece
of salty, fatty goodness off the plate on the counter and shoving it into my
mouth.

“
What
’
d you guys do last night?
”
I ask once I
’
ve swallowed.

“
Well, your sister spent half the night
on the internet and the other half texting. She wants to spend the night at a
friend
’
s
house tonight.
”

I
frown at Andy.
“
Richard doesn
’
t let her do that.
”

“
I know. Why not?
”

I
shrug.
“‘
Cause he
’
s an asshole.
‘
Cause I was a lying little whore when I was her age. I don
’
t know.
”
I shove another piece of bacon in my mouth and then pour
myself a cup of coffee.

“
Don
’
t do that,
”
Andy scolds.
“
You
know that
’
s
not true.
”

“
Whatever. Where does she want to go?
”

“
Caitlynn
’
s,
I think.
”

“
I don
’
t know a Caitlynn,
”
I admit. Not that I know all of Claire
’
s friends, but I tend to remember the
ones she mentions.
“
I
’
ll talk to her and find out.
”
I sit down at the table, waiting for the caffeine to
penetrate my alcohol-soaked system.

“
How was your night?
”
Andy asks, turning off the stove and filling up two plates
with eggs and more bacon before sitting down next to me.

“
It was good. Sara was accosted again,
but what
’
s
new?
”

“
Is she okay?
”
he asks, concerned.

“
Yeah, she
’
s fine. She dodged the guy and joined
us. Warren and I made a Sara sandwich and the guy disappeared.
”
Andy sets his coffee down a little bit harder than
necessary, spilling some of it on the table.
“
Are
you okay?
”
I ask.

“
I
’
m fine. It just pisses me off to know you guys can
’
t go anywhere without being harassed.
”

“
Nothing happened, Andy. She
’
s fine. I
’
m fine. We
’
re all fine.
”

“
Fine
,
”
he mocks.

“
So I
’
m guessing Claire
’
s still asleep?
”

“
Yep. She was on the computer all
night, so who knows how late she
’
ll sleep.
”

Andy
and I talk for another hour before Claire wakes up.

“
Are you going to let her go?
”
he asks me quietly as we watch her eat breakfast.

I
shrug.
“
Do you think I should?
”

“
It
’
s up to you. Do you really want to
risk it? She
’
ll
be able to do whatever she wants in another year and half anyway.
”

“
No she won
’
t,
”
I answer, shaking my head.
“
She
’
ll go to whatever Ivy League school
Richard picks out for her and be expected to get a perfect GPA so she can
become a world-class lawyer or surgeon or whatever other profession he deems
appropriate for his daughter.
”

“
Sounds like you
’
ve already made your decision.
”

When
I tell Claire that she can go to her sleepover, you
’
d think she just won the lottery. She
jumps up and down and hugs me so tightly that I can
’
t breathe.

Just
before ten o
’
clock,
I park my car and walk to the Starbucks where I agreed to meet Emily. I
’
m kind of nervous, but I don
’
t know why. She
’
s standing at the counter digging
through her purse, but she looks up at me with a huge grin on her face.

“
Hi!
”

“
Hi.
”
I smile.

“
I already ordered my coffee. I would
have ordered yours, too, but I don
’
t know what you drink.
”

“
That
’
s okay. I take it black. Give me two
seconds.
”

When
I get my drink, I join Emily, who found us a seat by the window. I sit down and
we just kind of stare at each other for a minute. Suddenly Emily starts
laughing. It
’
s
infectious, and before I know it, we
’
re both in hysterics.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
she breathes.
“
This is just silly. This shouldn
’
t be awkward.
”

“
No, it shouldn
’
t,
”
I agree, finally settling enough to take a sip of my
coffee.

“
I
’
m glad you could make it.
”

“
Me, too.
”

We
spend the next ten minutes chatting about little things like the weather and
the color of her fingernails, which are painted a brilliant blue. It
’
s trivial, but we
’
re testing the waters, feeling each other out. The longer
we talk, the more comfortable I feel.

Eventually
we move into more personal stuff. She tells me she
’
s thirty. She and Aiden met when she started working as a
bookkeeper for Wyatt House fresh out of college. They
’
ve got two kids: Ashley, who
’
s
turning six and Caleb, who
’
s two.

“
Do you like working with your husband?
”
I ask, smiling.

Emily
laughs.
“
Most of the time. When he
’
s being an asshole, not so much.
”