Angel of Redemption (24 page)

“
That
’
s great parenting, Dean. Thanks,
”
Emily gripes from the doorway as Ashley jumps up and runs
out of the room.

“
Hey, I
’
m
not their parent. I can bribe and spoil all I want,
”
I laugh.

“
Just remember, payback
’
s a bitch.
”

“
That would only work if I planned on
having kids, Em. I don
’
t.
”
I opt not to look at my sister-in-law
as I say this. I don
’
t want to see the look on her face. She doesn
’
t comment, thankfully.
“
I guess I should get up and go rescue Tracey.
”

“
There
’
s coffee in the kitchen whenever you
’
re ready. And Aiden made blueberry
pancakes.
”

“
Thanks.
”
I yawn. It’s kind of nice to be a part of a traditionally domestic lifestyle
for a morning.

* * *

When I get back to the Wyatt House, music is blasting,
which means the boys are doing their chores.

“
It
’
s Costco day. I was thinking of taking
Logan and Matty,
”
Tracey tells me.

“
Why don
’
t I go and take just Matty? Kayla said
to spend more time with him. Maybe he
’
ll open up a little. We
’
re working on getting him to trust me.
”

“
I think she meant go play ball with
him or something,
”
Tracey laughs.

“
If I did that, he
’
d automatically know I was trying to
connect with him. A trip to Costco is unassuming.
”

“
Smart man.
”
Tracey smiles.
“
Here
’
s the list.
”

Matty
agrees happily, probably because it gets him out of cleaning the boys
’
second-floor toilet. Logan
’
s not quite as happy, but for some
reason, he doesn
’
t
complain. Not once in all the time I
’
ve been working at Wyatt House has a kid not complained
when having to pick up someone else
’
s chores. Even if it
’
s for his brother
.
Something
’
s up. But today I
’
m focusing on Matty.

“
You ready?
”
I ask as Matty pulls on his coat.

“
Yeah.
”

In
the car, I set my phone in the cradle and connect it to the stereo. When I turn
it on, the car is flooded with music. Matty turns his head slightly to look at
me.

“
What?
”
I ask, putting the car into drive.

“
You listen to classical music?
”

“
Why
’
s that so surprising?
”

He
shrugs.
“
I guess I thought of you as more of a,
I don
’
t
know, hardcore music fan.
”

I
laugh. It
’
s
an honest laugh that rattles my whole upper body.
“
Classical music relaxes me,
”
I explain.
“
Why? What do you like to listen to?
”

“
Eminem. Wiz Khalifa. Chris Brown.
”

“
I listen to them, too
—
when I
’
m in a different mood.
”

“
You do not. You
’
re just trying to pull that bonding bullcrap.
”
This kid is smart, but he
’
s wrong.

“
Look through.
”
Matty leans forward and starts scanning through my
playlists.
“
See?
”

“
That
’
s just weird.
”

“
It
’
s not weird,
”
I chuckle.
“
It
’
s good to have music for every mood.
”

“
This stuff really relaxes you?
”

I
nod.
“
Do you ever listen to music when you
’
re anxious?
”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Matty tense up
slightly.
“
You don
’
t have to answer, Matty. I
’
m just curious.
”

He
’
s quiet for longer than I expect, so I
’
m surprised when he answers me.
“
I don
’
t get anxious. I just have panic attacks.
”

His
answer is clinical and unemotional. I
’
m treading on thin ice here, so I have to make sure I pay
attention to his body language. It
’
s
hard when I
’
m
driving and have to focus on the road, too, but he
’
s talking and I don
’
t want to lose my chance.

“
Do you know what causes them?
”
Matty starts fidgeting.
“
Is Kayla the only one who can bring you down?
”
I ask, changing direction slightly. He nods, biting down on
his lip.
“
Have you always had them?
”

“
No. Not really. Well, since my mom
—”
Matty stops abruptly. I
’
m not gonna push this.

“
You should try classical music every
once in awhile. I
’
ve
got it on my desktop in my office. I can download some for you if you want.
”

Matty
shrugs.
“
Whatever. What
’
s The Carpenters?
”

I
laugh.
“
Pray you never find out.
”

Twenty
minutes later we pull into the Costco parking lot.

“
This is a grocery store?
”
Matty asks, his eyes wide.

“
You
’
ve never been to Costco?
”

He
shakes his head.
“
No.
”

“
Oh, well, you
’
re in for a treat then,
”
I laugh.

Matty
and I grab a cart and a flatbed and begin wandering through the warehouse. He
opens up some, although not totally. But he doesn
’
t need to
—
what he doesn
’
t say speaks volumes. He says he used to like school, but
because he didn
’
t
talk much, people called him stupid. So now he hates it. I find out he enjoys
playing basketball, but won
’
t try out for the team because they change foster homes and
schools too much.

“
Why do you think you change foster
homes so much?
”
I ask. I know the answer; it
’
s in the record. Only once has the
move has been because of Matty. He knows, too, but he shrugs. I let it go.
Matty eyes me warily when I pick up five huge packages of toilet paper.

“
You guys go through a lot of TP,
”
I tell him.

He
reads the list off to me as I grab shit. This must be a quarterly trip, because
Tracey has things like toothbrushes and deodorant on it. Matty stops reading,
and I look at him in question.

“
What
’
s next?
”
I ask. He hands the list to me. Condoms. Yep, it
’
s definitely a quarterly trip. I grab
the economy-size box of condoms and hand the list back to Matty. His face is
bright red.

About
two hours later, I
’
ve spent almost three grand on food and supplies. We load
up the back of Tracey
’
s Suburban and head home.

“
My brother snuck out last night,
”
Matty says quickly and quietly. It takes a moment for what
he
’
s
just said to sink in.

“
What?
”
I snap.

He
looks at me blankly.
“
Logan snuck out to see his girl after
Tracey went to sleep. I heard him go.
”

“
How?
”

“
Don
’
t know.
”
He shrugs.
“
He wasn
’
t gone that long. He left at about
eleven and was back by one. That
’
s all I know.
”

“
Thanks for telling me.
”
I
’
m seething inside, but I don
’
t want Matty to see it, so I grit my
teeth together and breathe through my nose.

“
You gonna tell him it was me that told
you?
”

I
shake my head.
“
Nope.
”

Matty
’
s quiet the rest of the ride home. He
notices when I turn the classical music back on, though. Now I know why Logan
cleaned that toilet without complaint. As much as I want to beat some ass when
we get back to the
house, I can’t. If
I do, Logan will be able to figure
out exactly how I found out. So I won
’
t. Not today, at least. Tomorrow is another story.

* * *

The following evening, when Logan gets home from his first
shift at work, he pops into my office.

“
I
’
m back,
”
he mumbles.

I
curl my fingers.
“
Come on in. How was the job today?
”

“
It was cool.
”
He shrugs.
“
I didn
’
t do shit, but they showed me where
everything was and made me fill out paperwork. By the way, I need help.
”

“
Doing what?
”

Logan
starts digging in his backpack and pulls out a crinkled piece of paper.
“
They want my Social Security number, but I don
’
t know it. They gave me this to fill
out.
”
He hands me a W-4 form and sits down.
“
What
’
s it for?
”

“
Taxes.
”

“
What taxes? I gotta pay taxes?
”

“
Yes, Logan, you have to pay taxes,
”
I chuckle, trying to smooth out the paper.
“
Well, you have to at least file them.
”

“
How come? Wait, are they gonna take it
out of my paycheck? That
’
s bullshit! What if I don
’
t want to pay them?
”

I
spend the next ten minutes explaining the little bit I know about taxes.

“
That
’
s
messed up,
”
he grumbles after I
’
ve finished. A few more profanities escape from under his
breath as he starts to leave.