Angel of Redemption (65 page)

“They can function on their own, though. If I
forget to feed them, they’ll go get something out of the kitchen and eat it.”

She lifts an eyebrow at me. “Do you forgett to
feed them often?”

I chuckle.
“Are you kidding? They’d never
let me forget. I’m just thinking… I’m Ash and Caleb’s godfather. It’s in Emily
and Aiden’s will that if anything happens to them, I’ll be the one to raise
their kids. How the hell would I do that by myself?”

Kayla stops what she’s doing. “You’d have people
to help you, Dean. Your mom, your dad, me. Everyone needs help once in awhile.
”

“What if they don’t deserve help? Like they’ve
really fucked up somehow.” I’m not talking about myself anymore. Kayla doesn’t
know that, though.

“I guess it depends. I think most people deserve
a second chance. People make mistakes. They get caught up in things they don’t
understand and can’t control, and they get lost. Sometimes, they just need
someone to help them find their way again.”

I feel like shit. Would she feel the same way if
I told her the truth about Stephanie? I guess there’s only one way to find out.

“I need to tell you something,” I say solemnly. I
open my mouth to spill about Steph but stop when we hear a loud wailing come
from upstairs.

“Oh, shit. He’s gonna wake Ashley.” Kayla jumps
up and bolts, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Goddammit,” I growl, frustrated.

I wait for her to come back down, going over what
I want to say in my head. Do I just open with,
“So, hey, you remember me
talking about my ex-wife? The one who cheated and lied and did a whole bunch of
other shit? Well, her kids got taken by one of your coworkers, and I’m letting
her stay at my apartment so she can get them back.” I don’t think that’s going
to fly.

I try a few other scenarios, but not a single one
sounds like something Kayla wouldn’t dump me on my ass for. I should have
talked to her earlier. Now I have no idea how to do it.

After about half an hour inside my own head, I
get impatient and go to find Kayla. She
’s fast asleep in Caleb’s tiny
twin bed with him wrapped in her arms. I sigh heavily and debate for a few
minutes whether to wake her. I decide not to risk waking up Caleb and head to
the guest room.

I wake up to freezing cold toes hitting my
calves. The room is pitch-black. There’s only one person it could be, so I turn
over and throw my arm around her shivering body. Within minutes, I fall back
asleep.

Caleb must have gotten up again during the night
and made his way into the guest room, because I’m woken up at the ass-crack of
dawn by his giggle. I open my eyes to see Kayla poking him in the stomach like
he’s the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

I don’t get a chance to talk to her again
privately, but part of me is glad. I think I’ve psyched myself out of it now,
anyway. I tell myself it isn’t that big of a deal, that I’m not actually going
out of my way for Steph. I don’t give a shit about the apartment or anything in
there. It’s a piss-poor argument, but I’ll stick to it for now.

Emily and Aiden come home as I’m loading the
breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and Kayla is getting Caleb dressed.

“Any problems?” Aiden asks.

“Nope.”

“Caleb?” Emily grimaces.

“He ended up in bed with us, but it was fine,”
Kayla says, entering the room with said child in her arms.

“Mommy!” he cheers, wiggling out of Kayla’s grasp
and running to Emily.

“Did you guys have a nice night?”

I watch Emily’s cheeks turn bright red as she
nods, and a sly smirk passes over my brother’s face. I shoot Kayla a look, pleading
for her to not ask any more questions. She smiles at me and, thank God, moves
on to tell them about our night.

We leave about an hour later. Kayla spends the
whole drive to her house texting. When we pull into her driveway, she finally
sets her phone down.

“Everything okay?”

She huffs. “I’m trying to nail Claire down so I
can talk to her about what’s going on with her. She called me frantic a few
days ago and said she lost the necklace I gave her for her birthday, but
between my trip and her having finals last week, we haven’t had a chance to
really talk. She
’s been acting odd lately. I’m getting a little worried.”

I don’t know what to say. Kayla mentioned to me
that Claire had suggested that their mom was being abused. Now she’s trying to
determine if it’s true. I said she needed to call the cops or CPS and let them
figure it out, but that made her mad, so I shut my mouth and let her do things
her way.

“What are you going to do?”

She shakes her head and leans over to kiss me. “I
don’t know.”

Dean

“Brayden! Where’s my dock?”
I yell up the stairs.

“What dock?” I hear his muffled voice ask. I’m
not sure where he is, so I climb a few steps and keep talking.

“My iPod dock. The one I keep in the kitchen.”

“Oh. It’s in the car. I borrowed it so Caity and
I could have some mood music during
…
our
picnic yesterday.”

“Well, go get it!”

“I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m in the shitter. I might be here
awhile.”

I shake my head and groan. “Fine. I’m going to
get it.”

“Okay,” he yells. I grab the spare keys from my
office and head outside. The dock’s easy to find. It’s lying on the floor of
the passenger side. I pick it up, but the cord is stuck on something. I yank a
couple of times, but it doesn’t move. Reaching under the seat, I try to figure
out what it’s caught on. Instead, my fingers graze something cold. I pull it
out and dangle a chain in front of my face. The charm on the end swings back
and forth lazily, keeping me from focusing on it at first, but when I do, my
mouth drops.

“What the hell?”

I look at it more closely. There’s no denying
what I’m seeing. It’s the same necklace Kayla chose for her little sister’s
birthday a month ago
—the custom necklace. There has to be some
explanation… There are only two people allowed to drive this car: Brayden and
Logan.

Logan.

The dots connect one after the other until the
full picture is staring me in the face. Logan and Claire. How did I not see it?

“Motherfucker,” I breathe, slamming my fist
against the glove box. I close my fingers tightly around the metal and storm
back into the house, forgetting about the dock.

“Logan!” I shout. “Logan!”

“What?” he asks, popping his head out of the den.

“My office. Now!”

Tracey comes out of the kitchen and into the
hallway, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?” she asks. I shake
my head angrily.

Throwing open my door, I sit down at my desk and
wait. Two minutes feels like ten. Logan appears, looking unsure
—my
harsh tone obviously clued him in that something is wrong.

“Shut the door.”

“What did I do now?”

“You tell me.”

He shrugs. “You got me, man.” I hold out the
necklace. He stares at it for a second, and I watch recognition appear in his
eyes. “Where the hell did you get that?” he asks.

“The car,” I say, trying to control my agitation.

“My car?”

“Wyatt House car.”

“Oh, nice. My girl
’s been going crazy
looking for that thing. I didn’t even think to look in that car. Thanks.”

“Claire?” I ask when he reaches out for it.

“What?” The color drains from his cheeks.

“Your girl. Claire Graeme.” Logan takes a step
back. His jaw tightens; his eyes harden. “Kayla’s sister,” I continue. I’m not
going to beat around the bush or play games.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,”
he says, shrugging and shaking his head.

“Don’t lie, Logan,” I grit out. “All you want to
do is marry Claire and move on with your life?” I repeat the words he said the
night of his meltdown, which I’ve just remembered. Logan opens his mouth and
then closes it again. “Yeah, it didn’t click back then. I didn’t even think to
ask because it didn’t seem that important in the grand scheme of things. Now it
all makes sense.” There
’s a long moment when Logan and I just stare at
each other, neither one of us willing to give in, but then his resolve begins
to waver, and he starts fidgeting.

“When did it start?” I ask.

“I don’t know. A long time ago.”

“How long?”

He rolls his eyes back, and then smirks a little.
“The first day I met her—at Kayla’s office that day you took me there to
start my Independent Living shit.” The little bastard is actually proud of
himself. And Kayla’s going to fucking kill me. I’ve been practically condoning
him screwing her little sister for months. I run my hand over my face. “Are you
gonna tell Kayla?” he asks. His voice seems strong, but I can hear a slight
waver.

“No, this is something
you
need to tell her.”

“No way!
” he laughs humorlessly. “She’ll
kill me.”

“You didn’t think about that before you made your
move?”

“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean for it to
happen,” he insists.

“Then what did you intend to happen? You had to
have known that pursuing her would get you into trouble. You’re not stupid,
Logan. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking. It just happened!” he shouts.
“I didn’t realize I’d fall in love with her! I didn’t realize
…” He
stops, taking a second to reign in his emotions.

“How long did you think you’d be able to keep her
a secret? Does she mean so little to you that you were okay with hiding her
away?”

“No! She means everything to me.”

“Then you need to tell Kayla.”

“I don’t
… I’m not ready.” His facade is
starting to crumble, the panic showing through. “Give me a few more weeks.”

“What’s happening in a few more weeks?” I ask
suspiciously.

“Graduation,” he says as though the answer is
obvious. I don’t buy it for a second.

“You turn eighteen in one week, Logan. She’s
still a minor. You take her over state lines, and you’re going to jail. Do you
understand what I’m saying?”

“I get it. Yeah.”

“Do you? Because if you make that choice, there’s
nothing Kayla and I can do to help you.”

“I get it!” he insists. Again, we sit in silence.

“I’m gonna give you a day to figure out how you
want to tell her.” He rolls his eyes again and folds his arms across his chest.
“You’re an adult now, Logan. Taking responsibility for your actions is part of
that.”

“Whatever. Can I go now?” he grumbles. I wave him
away. The second he’s gone, I sink my head onto my desk. This is not good.
Kayla is the most understanding, patient person I have ever met, and I know she
loves Logan, but she
’s not going to be happy about this.

After a significant time spent wallowing in my
frustration, I pick up my phone and dial Kayla’s number.

“Hi, I wasn’t expecting your call so early,” she
says, her voice happy.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. What’s wrong?” She must hear the
strain in my voice.

“We need to talk. Can you come by tomorrow around
two o’clock?”

“Yes, of course. Dean?”

“It’s okay, baby. We just need to sort some
things out.” I want to tell her, but it’s more important for Logan to own up to
what he’s done. Kayla knows something’s off, but she doesn’t ask me to explain.
We talk for a few minutes about nothing in particular. My mind is preoccupied,
though. By the time I say good night to my very confused and probably worried
girl, Tracey is standing in my doorway.

“Dinner’s ready,” she says quietly. “Are you
coming to the table, or do you want me to bring it to you?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I sigh.

Logan doesn’t come down for dinner. Both Matty
and Brayden look nervous, probably waiting for me to chew their asses up, but I’m
not going to. In their lives, they hang onto those they can trust. They don’t
betray each other because they need one another. I was an asshole for asking
Brayden to squeal on Logan.

I check on all the kids before bed. Logan
looks up when I open his door, but completely ignores me when I tell him it’s
lights out. When I pass by his room an hour later, his light’s still on.

The next morning, things haven’t improved. The
boys who don’t know what’s going on keep looking around, waiting for someone to
trigger an argument. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen. After my restless night of
worrying about the situation with Logan and how Kayla’s going to react, I’m too
tired to fight, and Logan ends up leaving for school without uttering a word to
anyone.

For most of the morning, I try to distract myself
with work, but I keep dozing off at my desk. When the doorbell rings early in
the afternoon, I startle and sprint to answer it.

“Hey, you.” I smile when I open the door.

“Hi,” she greets cautiously. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Get in here,” I murmur, grabbing her hand
and pulling her inside. I want to hold her immediately, but I resist.

“Where is everybody?”

“You’re early. The boys are still at school.
Simon’s out running errands. Emily and Aiden are at a parent-teacher meeting
for Ashley because of the stapler incident.
”

“Whoops.” Kayla laughs. I put my hand on her back
and lead her toward the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

“That sounds good, thank you.”

I pour two cups of coffee and hand her one before
leading her into my office.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks,
leaning against my desk.

“Yes. I do,” I admit. “But I think Logan needs to
be the one to tell you.”

“Dean, you’re sort of freaking me out.”

Setting down my mug, I curl my fingers and open
my arms. Now that we’re in the privacy of my office, I feel an even stronger
need to hold her. She puts her coffee down next to mine and lets me wrap my
arms around her. I run my fingers through her hair, inhaling her scent. She
tilts her head up and slowly lifts herself onto her toes. Her lips press
against mine
—her kiss both soft and firm. I love it.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmurs.

“I know,” I whisper before glancing up at the
clock. It’s not even two. We have a good half hour before anyone gets home. Her
fingers cradle my jaw; her thumbs brush over my cheeks. Her lips move down,
landing on my chin and then my neck before she pulls back, smiling at me.

“You really are beautiful, you know that?” I ask,
scanning her features.

Kayla shakes her head. “Tell me again.”

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper. Leaning in, I push
my tongue into her mouth and wrap it around hers. My hand moves to her back,
bringing her closer to me. She’s never close enough. I hold her in place with
one hand and slide the other up her back, gripping a handful of hair and gently
tugging backward so that I can move down her neck.

“What the fuck?”

Kayla jumps, wincing because I still have ahold of
her hair. I let go, and her head whips around to see what I’ve already seen.
Logan is standing in the doorway, his face drawn up into a surprised and
furious scowl.

“Oh, crap,” she gasps under her breath. She steps
away from me, straightening her clothes and smoothing over her hair. Shit. This
is not good. This is really, really not good. And I have a feeling a bad
situation is about to get worse.

“I should have known,” he scoffs. “I should have
fucking known.”

“Logan,” I warn. “Stop.”

Hurt flashes across his face before it
’s
replaced with a stony facade.

“You know what? Fuck you both.” He turns to me. “You’re
such a self-righteous prick.
‘You gotta tell Kayla the truth, Logan
,’”
he mocks. “And this whole fucking time you’ve been… Jesus Christ. How long has
this been going on?” he asks, throwing my words back at me. “Did Matty and I
get put here because you’re fucking my social worker?”

“Enough, Logan!” Kayla says firmly. “Tell me the
truth about what?” His eyes snap to her.

“I’m fucking Claire,” he says emotionlessly. I
close my eyes and groan. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.

“I’m sorry… What?” she asks, clearing her throat.

“Logan,” I call out again. He glances at me and I
shake my head, practically begging him not to do it this way. He ignores me and
takes a few steps backward.

“Yeah,” he spits. “Claire and me. We’re fucking.
Have been for months. I’m surprised with how close you and Dean apparently are
that he hasn’t told you yet. And you want to know something even better?” he
asks. His eyes are piercing, his mouth curling into a hateful smirk. “She’s
having my baby.”