Angel of Redemption (3 page)

I
shake my head.
“
Not really. I mean, I have coworkers
who have placed kids here, but I
’
ve never
…”

“
Oh, okay,
”
she says taking a deep breath.
“
Well, Wyatt House was founded as a home for orphaned boys
back in 1938 by brothers William and Henry Wyatt. In 1964, it was taken over by
Henry
’
s
oldest son, Alexander, and William
’
s second son, Rupert. In 1986, Alexander
’
s only son, Joseph
—
Joe
—
took it over. Four years ago, Joe and
his wife Maria
’
s
oldest son, Aiden, took over the business. His brother Dean joined him a year
later.
”
By the time she
’
s done, I
’
m grinning widely.

“
Give that speech much?
”
I laugh.

“
Ugh, just about every day,
”
she groans.
“
I
’
m their PR agent as well.
”
She rolls her eyes and then smiles at me.

“
So,] I
’
m meeting Dean, then?
”
I ask. Emily tugs at a strand of her hair and shifts her
weight.

“
Yeah. Uh, he
’
s had a rough day today so he
’
s
a little
…
grumpy. Don
’
t let him put you off. He
’
s
great with the kids.
”
She smiles, gritting her teeth like
she
’
s praying I believe her. I raise my
eyebrows. What have I gotten my boys into?

“He can be a bit abrupt, but he’s a good guy,” she
adds just as the door to the office opens. “And…I’m gonna shut up now.”

“
Great idea, Em,
”
says the same deep voice that spoke to me over the phone.
“
Aiden just called looking for you.
”
I turn my head and find myself staring straight into a
broad chest covered in black cotton. I glance up. Oh. My. God.

My
heart jumps up into my throat. Scruffy jaw, messy, dark hair, deep-green eyes.
His lashes could probably sweep the floor, and his plump, juicy lips are curved
into an annoyed smirk.

Did I just call his lips plump and juicy?

“Kayla,” Emily says, thankfully stealing my
attention and keeping me from gawking like a complete idiot. “This is Dean
Wyatt. Dean, this is Kayla Brooks, Logan and Matthew Davidson’s social worker.”
She takes a breath. “I hate to be rude, but I need to head out. It was nice to
meet you, Kayla. I’m sure we’ll see plenty of each other.”

“Yeah,” I answer, nodding. “Thank you.”

She stares at me for a second before turning on
her heel and walking quickly down the hallway.

“
Ms. Brooks.
”

I have to look at him because he’s talking to me.
And I’m a professional. A professional social worker. Here to place children in
his care.

“
Hhhh
-
hi,
”
I stutter stupidly.
“
Sorry,
I
…
Emily
—”

“
I heard what she said. Remind me to
fire her tomorrow.
”

“
No, she
—
she
didn
’
t
do anything
—”

“
I
’
m kidding,
”
he states, turning around.
“
She
’
s my sister-in-law. Even if I wanted
to fire her, I can
’
t. Come on in.
”

I
follow him into the office. There are two large desks on opposite sides of the
room. Oak? Mahogany? Something a hell of a lot more expensive than the pine and
particleboard piece of shit I work on. The back wall has floor-to-ceiling
bookshelves and the left wall is covered in windows. On the opposite wall hang
artwork and a few photos of various groups of people.

I
glance back at Dean. He
’
s standing at a filing cabinet with his back to me. I take
the opportunity to appreciate his
…
assets.
He
’
s
wearing a loose-fitting pair of jeans hung low on his hips and a pair of dark-blue
leather Doc Martens. His shirt is plain, but tight enough to show that he
’
s built. His hair looks like he
’
s been running his hands through it
for several hours. The filing-cabinet drawer slams shut, and he walks to his
desk without looking at me.

“
Have a seat. I
’
d like to get you out of here quickly.
”

I
sit down in the chair in front of his desk and reach into my shoulder bag for
the Davidson files. I hand them to him, and he snatches them quickly, flipping
through the papers. His fingers follow the words, and I notice his knuckles.
They
’
re
covered in crude black
X
s. I scan the
rest of him quickly. Ink peeks out from just below the collar of his shirt,
too. I wonder how much of him is covered.

“
Okay, so look,
”
Dean interrupts my thoughts.
“
I
’
m at capacity with your boys. I
’
m approved for seven, but I usually
prefer to keep it to five or six, depending on the issues involved. Are they on
any meds?
”

“
No.
”
I shake my head, frowning. I know Emily said he was in a
bad mood, but I
’
m not used to caregivers being so
…
rude. I
’
m about to tell him about Matty
’
s anxiety when he starts talking again.

“
All right. I
’
ll go over the rules verbally with Logan and Matthew
tomorrow. I
’
m
sure you can handle reading them on your own.
”
He glances up at me.
“
Can
’
t you?
”

“
Yeah. I
’
m sure I
’
ll be fine,
”
I say, insulted. It feels like he
’
s implying that I
’
m
incompetent.

“
Good,
”
he responds, looking back down.
“
I
’
m assuming you
’
ll be registering them in school tomorrow?
”

“
Yes, I
’
ll pick them up in the morning and
take them over. I have copies of their records and
—”

He
waves me off.
“
That
’
s fine. As long as you
’
re going to do it, and I don
’
t need to worry about it. I
’
ve got a 90/10 rule. If they follow
the rules 90 percent of the time, I can deal with the 10 percent where they
slip up. What
’
s
your visitation schedule like?
”
I am so stunned by the curt way he
’
s talking to me that I almost forget
to answer. Luckily, I still have a few brain cells working.

“
For the first month I
’
ll visit once a week. The second
month, I
’
ll
see them every other week, then once a month after that.
”

“
That
’
s a lot of visits. Is that how you
handle all your cases?
”

“
It
’
s case by case,
”
I say, agitated.
“
Logan
’
s about to age out, and the Independent
Living Program is completely maxed. I offered to prepare him myself.
”

“
Do you do that for all your kids, or
is he special to you in some way?
”

“
Excuse me?
”

“
You seem awfully invested. Since the
boys will be living here, I
’
d like to know exactly what
’
s going on in their lives that may
affect how well they acclimate.
”

I
can feel my face flushing with anger. If I were a cartoon character, steam would
be pouring from my ears. As it is, I try my damnedest not to rip into this
arrogant asshole.

“
I have known those boys almost half
their lives. They were the very first kids in my caseload. Believe it or not, I
care about them.
”

Dean
rests his elbows on his desk and clasps his hands together, holding them
against his mouth. He doesn
’
t say anything
—
he just studies me. It
’
s unnerving and irritating.

“
Okay, I think I have everything,
”
he finally says after a few minutes of silence. I reach
into my shoulder bag and grab my purse. Finding my cardholder in one of the
pockets, I try to keep my hands from shaking as I flick it open and pull out
one of my business cards. I set it down in front of him with a little more
force than necessary before standing up.

“
Thank you, Mr. Wyatt. I
’
m sorry to have put you out this
evening, but I appreciate you taking my boys. I
’
ll show myself out,
”
I say coldly. I don
’
t wait for him to respond. I
’
m too tired and angry. I storm out of
his office, down the hallway, and out the front door as quickly as I can. I am
absolutely petrified that he
’
ll catch up with me and tell me he
’
s changed his mind. I get into my car
and slam the door shut. I have no idea what just happened.

I
’
m halfway home when I realize I didn
’
t ask for a list of who else lives in
the house. I need that information to find out with whom I
’
ll be communicating for my reports.

“
Shit!
”
I grumble to myself. Now I
’
ll have to talk to that asshole again.

As
I pull into my driveway, I notice that the lights are still on in the living
room.

“
Waiting up for me again?
”
I ask after walking inside and setting my keys and purse
down on the table in the foyer.

“
Sorry, I don
’
t like it when you
’
re out this late,
”
my stepbrother
says quietly from his seat on the sofa.

I sit down beside him and let out a huge breath.

“The Davidson boys again?”

“
Andy, I don
’
t know what I
’
m going to do with them,
”
I sigh, laying my head on my brother
’
s shoulder.

“
There
’
s nothing you can do. Logan
’
s about to age out, and then Matty can
stay in one spot.
”

“
You know it
’
s not that easy,
”
I whisper sadly. I wish it were. Christ, do I wish it were
that easy.

“
Yeah, I do, but I
’
m their lawyer; I
’
m supposed to have faith that
everything will work out. And so are you.
”

I
nod, feeling my cheek rub along the fabric of his T-shirt. Andy is a children
’
s attorney for the state. It
’
s his duty to represent the best
interests of the children involved in the foster care system.