Angel of Redemption (31 page)

“
Yep.
”
Emily nods.
“
How
’
d coffee with Kayla go, by the way?
”

I wince, remembering the disastrous coffee date.

“Okay, I’m going to give you the benefit of the
doubt this time since last time I jumped to conclusions. What happened?”

“
I think I fucked up.
”

“
Again?
”
she moans.
“
I don
’
t need the details, Dean, but what did you do?
”

“
I just got all freaked out and
…
I don
’
t know.
”

Emily
looks annoyed.
“
You
better fix it, then. I like her.
”

“
I will,
”
I promise. And I will. But first I have to make dinner and
calm down my house. Jax
’
s departure is going to ruffle some feathers.

Some
of the boys are more upset than others
—
I
think it has to do with their different attachment issues. I spend all evening
with them, watching for signs of emotional distress and trying to keep them
focused on anything other than the loss of their foster brother. It
’
s going to be a long night.

* * *

First thing Monday morning, Simon shows up for his
training. He walks right in without knocking just as the boys are getting their
things together for school. Several of the boys tense up. The hair on the back
of my neck prickles. Not a good first impression.

I
make quick introductions simply to settle things down before I throw them all
out to go to school. I count six boys and then recount before remembering sadly
that Jax is no longer here. I give Simon a tour of the main living areas and
then head upstairs, pointing out each of the boys
’
rooms.

“
There aren
’
t any locks on the doors, but we allow them their privacy
whenever possible.
”

“
I
’
m assuming you do random checks, though, right?
”
Simon questions.

“
No. Not unless we have reason to suspect they
’
re holding. Why?
”

“
They
’
re always holding, Dean. How long have you been doing this?
”

I
stare at him long enough for him to get uncomfortable. I
’
m not answering that fucking douchebag
question. He looks away, and we head downstairs. I show him into my brother
’
s office, which will become his. Aiden
’
s got boxes of things packed up. He
’
s decided to just move his shit into
Emily
’
s
office since they
’
re
used to sharing space anyway. Whatever doesn
’
t fit, he
’
ll take home.

“
What
’
s all this crap?
”
Simon asks, opening up one of the boxes and peering in. I
slam my hand down on top of it.

“
That
crap
belongs to my brother
—
your boss. He
’
s busy running this place, so he
’
ll move it when he gets around to it.
”

This
guy is not going to last long if he keeps this up. I already don
’
t like him, and I will personally kick
his ass out of this house if I have to. After my outburst, he seems to chill a
little. I spend most of the day going over the rules and regulations and what
to do in the case of an emergency. I also talk to him about what happened with
Jax. We eat lunch and then go over the basics of working with the DHS
caseworkers.

“
Are there any hot ones?
”
he laughs.
“
I cannot seem to meet a good woman who
knows how to lick my stick properly.
”

I
shrug, even though what I really want to do is punch his fucking face in. Who
the hell walks into their new job and talks to their boss like that? I may not
hold the position Aiden does, but I
’
m still above this douchebag, and I am not his friend.

I
’
m also irritated because there
is
a hot social worker on my mind these days, and the idea of Simon getting
anywhere near her makes me want to fire him on the spot. Thinking of Kayla
reminds me that I still haven
’
t called her. The longer I wait, the more I worry about
what I
’
m
going to say. I need something professional to talk to her about, just to start
things off, but Matty and Logan are behaving. I
’
ve
got nothing.

Simon
stays for a couple hours after the boys get home from school. I show him the
homework and dinner routine. He tries to joke around with the boys, but he
’
s too forward with them and they don
’
t like it. I make a serious attempt to
hide my contempt for the guy, but I know they sense it. He eats dinner with us
before leaving for the night.

“
I don
’
t like him, D,
”
Brayden says, sitting down in the chair in front of my
desk.

“
Give him time,
”
I say, gritting my teeth.
“
Maybe
he
’
s
one of those guys you just have to get to know.
”

“
He
’
s a fucking douche.
”
I don
’
t disagree, but I don
’
t tell Brayden that.

“
Didn
’
t you think the same thing about me?
”
I look up at him and grin.

“
No.
”
He smirks.
“
I
knew
you were a douche.
”
I laugh and throw my stress ball at him. He catches it
easily and squeezes it.
“
Seriously, though. You think he
’
s okay?
”

I
dodge the question.
“
I think it
’
s going to be hard to have someone new
in here no matter who it is. Give him a shot.
”
I
’
m talking to myself as well
—
but it physically pains me to say it.

* * *

I honestly hoped Simon would decide not to come in on
Tuesday morning, but I
’
m sorely disappointed. Emily deals with him for the first
hour so I can go to church, but when I get back, I have to spend another day
with the guy going over procedures, including what to do if a placement call
comes in the middle of the night. Word will get around that we have an opening,
and I
’
m
sure it won
’
t
be long. During the day, if he has any questions, he can call us, but none of
us want to be woken up at two in the morning on our nights off.

Tuesday
night, I
’
m off duty. I stay as late as I can at
Wyatt House, but eventually, Aiden pushes me out the door.

“
Either you go home, or I will,
”
he demands.
“
I
’
m not going to be away from my wife and kids if I don
’
t need to be.
”

“
I
’
m going,
”
I grumble.

I
head out around nine thirty, stopping by the 7-Eleven to pick up a bag of
chips, a bottle of Coke, and a box of Pop-Tarts
—
staples of my bachelor diet.

I
finally make it back to my empty apartment and settle down in front of the TV
with my snacks. I
’
m
trying to distract myself. Brayden was right: I am a douche. I should have
called Kayla two days ago, but I
’
m even more clueless about what to say than I was before.
Looks like I
’
m
in for a long, lonely night.

Kayla

I
’
m completely frustrated by the enigma that is Dean Wyatt.
He says he wants to be friends and yet when he looks at me, it feels like he
’
s begging for more. More of what, I
don
’
t
know. He lets me in just a little bit and then pushes me back out again. I
realize we haven
’
t
known each other very long, but I want him to trust me. I don
’
t think he does. When I was telling my story, I saw his jaw
tense. His whole body language changed. I think something very bad happened to
that man.

I
can
’
t
explain what I feel when we touch. There
’
s a pull between us that we
’
re both fighting. I don
’
t want to fight it anymore, though. I
want to touch him
—
to feel him. I want him to feel me. I
’v
e never ached to have someone
’
s arms around me, and yet that is
exactly what happens every time I
’
m close to him. He has so many secrets and I
’
m dying to find out what they are
—
not out of nosiness, but because I
know they
’
ve
made him who he is. Despite what he thinks of himself and the way he presents
himself in public, I
’
ve seen glimpses of the man underneath. The man who cares
so much for the kids he
’
s entrusted to take care of
—
who
goes out of his way to make sure they become something other than what society
tells them they
’
ll
be. The man who goes and has a look-a-like doll made for his niece because he
knows she
’
ll
love it.

But
now I
’m worried I’ll never see that man again. I want him to call or
text—something to show me we’re still okay. That we’re still…friends.

* * *

A couple days after my coffeehouse confession, I arrive
home from work to an empty house. It
’
s been one of those busy days without time to think about
anything other than work, which is a good thing because I haven
’
t had time to dwell on just how much I
want to talk to Dean.

I
change out of my work clothes and pour myself a glass of wine. I
’
m just getting comfortable, curling up
to watch some TV, when my phone rings. I know better than to get my hopes up,
but I do anyway, only to be disappointed when I look down at the screen.
Wonderful.

“
Hi, Mom,
”
I answer.
“
What can I do for you?
”

“
Richard and I have been trying to reach Claire on her cellphone,
but she
’
s
not picking up. Can I speak with her?
”

“
Uh
…
”
My brain is trying to process why my
mother is asking me to talk to Claire.
“
Why are you asking me?
”

“
No need for that tone of voice. My Lord. I just want to
speak to my daughter.
”

Ouch.

“
You are speaking to your daughter,
”
I say flatly.

“
Oh, you know what I mean.
”
She
tsk
s, brushing me off like she always does.

“
Well, Claire isn
’
t here, so you
’
re out of luck,
”
I bite. I am quickly losing patience with this woman.

“
What? Where is she?
”

“
I don
’
t know. Isn
’
t it your job to keep track of her? You know, as her
mother?
”

“
She told us she would be spending the evening with you and
Andy doing some social charity project for school.
”

Oh,
shit! My little sister
’
s been telling fibs. Without knowing what the hell is going
on, I err on the side of covering for her.

“
I don
’
t know, Mom. Andy isn
’
t home. If Claire said she
’
s working on a project, she
’
s probably with him.
”

“
Well, can I have his cellphone number?
”

“
I
’
m not authorized to give that out,
”
I say, sounding like I
’
m talking to a client.
“
I
’
ll call and have him tell Claire you
’
re looking for her, okay?
”

My
mother huffs a few times, but I don
’
t care. The only thing I can think about right now is finding
my sister and seeing what she
’
s up to. After I hang up with my mom, I call Claire
’
s cellphone. She immediately picks up.
Clearly, she
’
s
screening her calls.

“
Hi, Kayla,
”
she says as a greeting. Her voice is cautious.

“
Hey! Next time you want to use Andy or me as an alibi, you
’
d better tell us. You
’
re in deep shit when you get home.
”

“
What?
”
Claire yelps.
“
Why?
”

“
Because you told your parents you were coming here. What
the hell, Claire?
”

“
What did you tell them?
”

“
I told Mom that Andy wasn
’
t home and that it was possible you
were with him, but that
’
s not the point. What the hell is going on?
”

“
I can
’
t
…
I can
’
t talk about it right now,
”
she whispers. Despite how softly she
’
s speaking, I can still hear the
tremble in her voice.

“
Where are you?
”

“
I
’
m at Caitlynn
’
s house. We were studying, and then her boyfriend came
over. We
’
re
just
…
we
’
re just talking.
”

“
I
’
m coming to get you, right the fuck now. That might save
your ass a little when I drop you back at home.
”

Claire
gives me the address, and I put it into my phone. I stare longingly at my full
glass of wine before putting on my coat and walking out the door.

Fifteen
minutes later, I check the address again and pull into the driveway. It
’
s a nice little house, but emphasis on
“little.”
There
’
s a yellow Camaro in the driveway
alongside an old, white Honda Civic. This confirms why I didn
’
t recognize Caitlynn
’
s name. There
’
s no way in hell these people can afford Claire
’
s $25,000-a-year private-school education.

I
turn off the car, but Claire bolts out the door before I can get out. She
’
s still in her uniform, her backpack
slung over one shoulder. When she gets in the car, she doesn
’
t look at me. Her face is flushed, and
she looks guilty.

“
Really? You
’
re just going to get in the car and pretend like this is all
okay?
”

“
What do you want me to say?
”
she asks quietly.

“
How about,
‘
I know I shouldn
’
t have used you to cover my ass without telling you, Kayla,
’
or,
‘
Sorry for making you look like a complete asshole to Mom,
Kayla.
’
Jesus Christ, Claire.
”

“
Fine!
”
she cries.
“
I
’
m sorry, okay? I
’
m sorry! I wasn
’
t thinking.
”

I
pull away from the curb and drive back toward my house.
“
Caitlynn doesn
’
t go to your school, does she?
”
I sigh. Claire shakes her head.
“
Where did you meet her?
”

“
Through another friend. I really like her, but there
’
s no way Daddy would let me spend time
here. You know that.
”

I
want to argue that maybe he would, but I know better. Richard is an elitist. He
’
d never let his daughter hang out with
middle-class scum. I
’
m pretty sure he doesn
’
t even realize that Claire has been introduced to my dad
and Karen, much less spent any time with them. Andy and I are exceptions, but
barely. It wouldn
’
t
surprise me to find out that he
’
s already been arranging an appropriate marriage union for
her.

“
Claire, honey, I love you. You know that, right?
”
I say, glancing over at her. She
nods, looking so despondent that it kills me.
“
You can
’
t do this to me again. Your father
will have my ass if he finds out I
’
m covering for you while you hang out with people he hasn
’
t preapproved.
”
I feel like a total bitch, but I can
’
t let it slide. A couple of tears slip down her cheeks.
“
I know it sucks. I know how hard it
is, but it
’
s
not like it
’
ll
be forever. You
’
ve
got one more year. One more, and you
’
ll legally be an adult. Whatever you want to do then, I
will support you 100 percent, but please, please don
’
t put me in the middle right now. I
’
m on thin ice with your dad as it is.
I do not want him to cut me off from you.
”

“
Okay,
”
she whispers. We sit in silence as I continue to drive.
“
Where are we going?
”
Claire asks, her head turning back
and forth.

“
I
’
m taking you to my house so you don
’
t have to lie to them. You
’
re going to sit down, and we
’
re going to work on some
‘
social charity project.
’”
I air quote with one hand, and Claire
nods.

Thank
God Andy is home when we get to the house.

“
Hey,
”
he greets. A look of confusion crosses his face when he
notices Claire sulking in behind me.
“
Hi, Claire.
”
He looks at me questioningly.

“
How long have you been home?
”
I ask.

“
Ten minutes, why?
”

“
Good.
”

I
pick up my phone and scroll to
“
Celia and Richard
”
as slowly as possible. Before hitting
CALL
,
I take a deep breath.