Angel of Redemption (68 page)

When he realizes what I’m doing, he responds, but
our embrace is all too short. I can hear Logan
’s voice getting closer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I sigh, taking a step
back.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers. And then they’re gone.

* * *

I don’t sleep well. My
brain won’t turn off and I can’t stop running possible scenarios through my
head. I manage to doze off around four o’clock only to be woken up by the sound
of Claire vomiting violently in the bathroom. After holding her hair while she
empties what little she has in her stomach, I help her into the tub to get
cleaned up, make her some toast, and take her to school.

“Are you okay to go?” I ask, pulling up in front
of the building where the rich and privileged progeny of Minneapolis’ elite are
staring at my less than suitable car. “You’re not going to get sick?”

“I get nauseous during the day, but I haven’t
thrown up at school yet. I think I’m okay,” she explains.

“Call me if you’re not. I’ll come get you. We’ll
tell Mom you have the stomach flu or something.”

“I already used that excuse last week,” she says
quietly. “ I wasn’t feeling good. I told Mom there was a stomach bug going
around, so she let me skip.”

I scan the kids walking by, wondering who they
are, if they’re friends with Claire or not.

“Does anybody know?”

She shakes her head, her blond ponytail swishing
back and forth. “No. Not here. Even my so-called friends would sell me out if
they thought it would get them attention.”

“Caitlynn?”

“Yeah. She went with me to get the tests.” She
glances up at me, a guilty expression on her face.

“I wish you would have come to me.”

“I wanted to. Logan
…” I roll my eyes. I
should have known. “He was scared to tell you, Kayla,” she pleads, ignoring the
ring of the first bell. “He said you’re the only one who’s ever loved him and
if you found out about us, you’d hate him.”

My heart hurts so much for Logan. I try not to
think about that, though, because I
’m mad at him. And I’m mad at Claire.

“That’s not an excuse, Claire. For you or for
him.”

“I know.”

The last few kids milling about start to hurry
into the building. “You better go. I’ll call you tonight.”

Walking into Kate’s office a little later, I feel
exhausted and overwhelmed. I have no idea if I’m going to be held responsible
for this or not. I don’t know if I’m going to get reprimanded, or if I’m going
to lose my job. I’m not even sure how I’m going to explain to her what’s
happened.

My intention is to only give her the details she
needs to know. Logan met my sister by accident three months ago, they went behind
my back, and now she’s pregnant with his child. Instead, I spill everything
—from
my friendship with Dean, to our now much-more-than-professional relationship,
and finally everything about Claire and Logan.

When I’m finished, I sit like a child, hunched
over and picking at my fingernails, waiting for the moment that Kate demands my
ID, tells me to clear my desk, and has me escorted out of the building. None of
that happens. Instead, she straightens a few papers on her desk and takes a sip
of her tea. After setting the cup back down on her desk, she looks me in the
eye.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Where to start? I can’t honestly say I’m not
surprised by your relationship with Mr. Wyatt. In fact, I suspected it was
becoming more serious.”

“How?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

“I am not blind, Kayla. I saw that picture in the
paper just like everyone else. And every time you mention him your face lights
up like a lightbulb. I haven’t said anything because your work didn’t appear to
be suffering from it. However,
” she continues, “because of Logan’s
association with your sister, there is now a conflict of interest. You cannot
be his social worker anymore.”

I nod. “I figured.
”

“Fortunately, he’s turning eighteen and we can
begin the process of discharging him from care.” I frown. I don’t believe Logan
is ready to be discharged, but if he stays in the system, my hands are tied
—I
can’t help him.

“Can I see him through that?”

“Yes, of course you can.” Kate smiles sadly at
me. “But Matty
…”

“He’s not involved in this,” I rush out.

“Unfortunately, through no fault of his own, he
is. I’m sure the circumstances surrounding your sister and Logan are going to
get very complicated. It’s not fair for Matty to be caught in the middle.”

“I won’t let him,” I assure. “He’s finally doing
well, Kate. Please?”

“I know you are fully capable of doing your job,
but I can’t risk it. I’m sorry. We can try to keep him in the unit, but his
case needs to be transferred.”

I don’t know what to say, so I wordlessly stand
up and walk out of her office. I’m not mad at Kate. It’s her job to make sure
the rules are followed. I am, however, devastated for Matty and for myself. And
I’m once again furious at Logan and Claire.

“Fuck!” I groan, flopping down into my chair at
my desk.

“What’s the matter,
mi amor
?”
Warren asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it,
” I mumble.
He stands up and moves behind me. His strong hands find a place on my shoulders
and he begins massaging. “Ohhhhh,” I moan loudly.

“Does that feel good?” he purrs in my ear.

“So good. Don’t stop. Ugh.”

“I’m gonna have to stop if you keep making those
sounds. You’re giving me wood,” he teases. I giggle and drop my head so he has
better access to my neck. I can’t help the sounds that come out of me, but
Warren doesn’t stop. He doesn’t ask me what’s happening either, which I
appreciate. After ten wonderful, glorious minutes, Warren bends down. “I’ve got
paperwork to do,
” he whispers. I whine and grasp his wrist to let him
know just how much I love him. I miss Warren. We haven’t hung out in awhile. “Want
to party this weekend?” he asks, apparently thinking the same thing I am.

“Yeah. I really do,” I admit.

“No SOs. Just you, me, and Sara. Although I’d love
to see that man of yours move in a gyrating sort of way some day.” He waggles
his eyebrows at me, grinning. I snort and push him away. I still feel like
shit, but I feel a little less like shit than I did twenty minutes ago. That’s
progress, right?

Kayla

The rest of my day is
filled with phone calls and meetings. Dana is taking Matty’s case. In return,
she’s giving me two-year-old Garrett Turkins. Garrett’s mother, Lizzie, is a
twenty-one-year-old former foster child who aged out of Dana’s caseload a few
years ago. Now she’s back as an offending parent. Garrett was born addicted to
heroin. Lizzie goes to court every six months, agrees to the permanence plan,
plays the societal victim, and gets another chance. She does fine in the
beginning, but as time passes, she pushes her limits and does the bare minimum
required, stops showing up for parenting classes and visits, then fucks off
completely until the week before the next court date. Then it starts all over.
I really don’t want to play any games with her. Luckily there’s a meeting next
month to determine whether or not we should move forward with termination of
parental rights. Kate thinks Lizzie isn’t responding to Dana in any way, shape,
or form. She’s hoping I will be able to finally get some permanence for Garrett
one way or another.

Sara is in and out of the office all day. She
brings me lunch and asks how I’m doing. I tell her I’m fine, and I am as long
as I don’t think about the situation with Claire and Logan. When I do, I start
to get sick to my stomach.

Dean texts me half a dozen times and calls twice.
He says he’s just bored, but I think he’s worried about me, too. I’m heading
over there at four thirty to talk to Logan about discharging from care. It
shouldn’t take too long once we submit the paperwork. Claire calls to tell me
her parents are on day shifts tomorrow, so they’ll both be home by eight.

Dana, Kate, and I have decided that since I’ve
already done Matty’s monthly visit, it might be better not to tell him that I
have to step down as his worker right away. He needs time to adjust to what’s
happening before we hit him with that kind of blow.

At four thirty on the dot, I pull up in front of
Wyatt House. Dean is sitting on the front porch, his elbows resting on his
knees, hands folded between his legs. He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt and
holey jeans. His head is wet and his feet, bare.

“Hi,” he says, standing up.

“Shower?”

He runs his hand over his head. “Yeah. Logan and
I were sparring.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“It’s good therapy. He got a few good jabs in
there.”

I scan my eyes over him and notice a slight cut on
the corner of his mouth. I reach for it. “He actually hit you?” Dean shrugs. “Did
you hit him?”

“No.” He laughs. “I tap. It’s their therapy, not
mine.”

I hum, stepping closer. “Did you sort things out?”

“We’re getting there. He’s still mad.”

“He’s being ridiculous.”

“He loves you, Kayla,” Dean says quietly. “He was
already having a hard time with aging out
—not having anyone care
about where he is or what he’s doing. He thinks you’re gonna abandon him.”

I consider what he’s saying. Several of my kids
who have aged out have gone through some sort of grieving process. It’s
natural, especially for those who have grown up in the system. And I’ve found
myself in much more of a parental role with Logan and Matty—I’ve spent so
much time with them due to Logan’s behavioral issues.

I roll my eyes. I get it, I do, but I
’m
still angry. It’s hard for me to be sympathetic right now. “Yeah, well, he has
a funny way of showing me just how much he cares.”

“Hey. No drama, right?” Dean pushes a strand of
hair behind my ear. “Are we still on for tonight?” he asks quietly.

“If you’re not too tired from your fight.”

“I’ll try to stay awake.” He grins.

“You do that.” As I walk past him, he grabs my
hand and squeezes. I glance down at our fingers and then back up into his
shining green eyes. How is it possible that he knows exactly what I need and when
I need it? Heading inside, I find the house eerily quiet. “Where is everybody?”

“Brayden’s at work. Aiden took Curtis, Edgar, and
Eric to the rec center. Logan’s probably upstairs getting cleaned up,” Dean
answers, and then points to the dining room where Matty is focusing hard on a
book and writing notes down on a piece of paper.

“Whatcha doin
’?” I ask, leaving Dean in
the door and making my way to Matty.

He looks up at me. “I have my biology final
tomorrow.”

“Are you feeling pretty good about it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. If I can get an
A
, I’ll get a
B
in the class.” Considering he had a
D
in biology when I transferred him, this is amazing news.

“That’s fantastic. How do you think your other
grades are going?”

He blows out a puff of air through his mouth and
sets his pen down. “I don’t want to move, Kayla. I don’t care what he did this
time.”

“You’re happy here?”

“Yeah. Here and at school. I have friends for the
first time in my life. Dean, Aiden, Emily…they treat me like I’m family, not
some invader or charity case.”

It makes me feel good to hear him say this. Matty
has spent the last seven years taking a backseat to Logan. He’s not once stated
what
 he wants, not even to me. This is a different child than the
one I brought here over three months ago. And I have Dean to thank for that.

“You don’t have to leave, Matty. But
…Logan
does.”

“What did he do?”

“I got Claire pregnant,” Logan says, walking into
the room with an apple in his hand. Matty’s eyes go wide, and his mouth drops.
He looks from Logan to me.

“Uh
… Huh?”

“A baby, Matty. I made a baby with Kayla’s little
sister.”

I grimace. Logan’s still trying to get to me,
telling the truth in blunt comments he knows are going to bother me.

“What are you gonna do?” Matty asks, his voice
squeaking.

I don’t give Logan the chance for another bite. “I’m
discharging him from care,” I answer for him. “That way I can help without
having a professional conflict. Emily is working on an apartment that’s close
by. He’s going to work and take care of his responsibilities like the adult he
keeps telling us he is.”

Logan grumbles under his breath. I ignore him.
Matty doesn’t say much after that. He listens while I talk to Logan about the
process and procedures of discharging.

We don’t talk about Claire. I’m a little worried
about what Richard will do when they tell him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he
demands she have an abortion and then tries to send her away. That’s not what
she wants, though, and I’m going to advocate for her as much as I can. I haven’t
really thought about how far I will take it, but I’m not going to let Claire
fall victim to her father’s misogynistic control issues.

After Logan leaves, I say good-bye to Matty and
ruffle his hair. “It’ll all be okay, Matty,” I soothe. “No matter what happens,
you’ve got a lot of people who love you. Good luck on your test.
”

“Thanks,” he says, returning to his book. I head toward
the front door and find Dean sitting at Emily’s desk. He’s on the phone, but
covers the mouthpiece.

“We’re all set for tomorrow night. I’m gonna go,”
I whisper.

“I’ll be right behind you.” He winks and returns
to whomever is on the other line. I turn around and see Matty standing at the
bottom of the stairs watching us. He looks intrigued.

“See you later, Kayla.” He smiles and is up the
stairs before I can respond.

* * *

Dean is on my doorstep
about an hour and a half later wearing a pair of black slacks and a blue button-down.

“I thought I said you didn’t have to dress up,” I
say, pulling him inside.

He shrugs. “And I thought I told you we could go
somewhere nice.” I look down at my dress. It’s a simple cotton wrap dress with
short sleeves. “You look gorgeous,” he assures, wrapping his arm around my back
and kissing me while walking me backward. “I’ve had a really hard day.”

My back hits the wall and Dean is everywhere. His
tongue and lips roll over my collarbone. His hand slides up from my knee,
lifting the hem of my skirt. It moves up to the back of my thigh and he pulls
my leg up so that it’s sort of wrapped around him. He grinds himself into me
and I can feel his dick, hard and ready. A part of me wants to stop him, but I
can’t because my eyes are rolling back in my head and the words won’t form in
my mouth. There’s a reason he should stop, though. I just can’t remember…

“Ugh
. I so did not need to see that,” Andy
grumbles.

Oh, yeah. That’s why.

Dean halts his movements, and we both look over
just as Andy is turning away.

“Sorry, man,” he laughs. “Didn’t know you were
here.”

“Obviously.”

I smile and twist out of Dean’s grasp so I can
grab my jacket. We say good-bye to my brother, who looks both irritated and
amused, if that’s possible, and walk to the car.

“Can I have a rain check on whatever that was in
there?” I ask as he opens the car door. Without a word, Dean pushes me up
against the car, and it’s almost as though we were never interrupted. Except
the chilly breeze that hits when he moves my underwear aside reminds me that we’re
standing in my driveway and it’s still light out.

“Jesus, Dean,” I yelp. “I didn’t mean right now.
”

He chuckles and pulls away. “You said rain check.
Which means later. It’s later.” He adjusts himself and motions for me to get
into the car with an amused grin. Cheeky bastard.

When we arrive at the restaurant—a little
Indian place in the center of the city—Dean escorts me in. We’re seated
in a quiet nook and order a bottle of wine, which I taste and approve before
the waiter fills our glasses. As we begin eating, I can’t help but think about
how normal it feels to be sitting here with him. I can almost forget the trauma
of the last few days, weeks, months. We talk about trivial things, like where in
the world we’ve been or would love to go. We talk about our childhoods, though
I don
’t say much about the time after my mom and stepdad were married.
Dean notices.

“Richard is a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Yep. He is.”

“It
’s almost kismet that his daughter
ended up pregnant.”

“If it wasn’t Claire, I would totally agree with
you, but this whole situation devastates me.”

Dean grabs my hand across the table. “Logan isn’t
the first Wyatt House kid to get his girlfriend pregnant, Kayla. A few had kids
out there when we got them. It’s not ideal, but at least he seems willing to
step up. I had one kid a few years ago who had multiple paternity suits against
him at the same time. He refused to even acknowledge that he’d slept with any
of the girls.”

“What happened?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. He ended up running
away.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Dean,” I
sigh. “Let’s go back to talking about vacations.”

“All right,” he agrees. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere with a beach. Or a cabin in the middle
of the woods. Somewhere I can check out completely.”

“Alone?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

I grin. “I might bring someone to relieve my
stress.”

“You mean like Mr. Big?”

“How do you know about that?” I gasp. When an
older couple turns toward me, I lower my voice. “How do you know about Mr. Big?”

“Hmm. Okay,” he says, obviously trying not to
laugh. I’m not finding this as funny. “Uh, do you remember a few months ago
when you called me while you were drunk?”

“Yeah,” I answer slowly.

“When you asked me to come over, I told you you’d
regret it in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Um, you sort of told me you hadn’t had sex with
anyone other than Mr. Big in a long time.” I must look like a dead fish with my
mouth hanging open the way it is—a bright-red, dead fish. My face is
flaming. “I got a little jealous and asked who Mr. Big was.”

I close my eyes and shake my head back and forth.
I’m positively mortified. I am never drinking again. I am
—wait.

“You got jealous?”

He smirks, but it’s not his typical cocky smirk.
It’s more like a shy, embarrassed one.

“A little. Can we talk about this some other
time?” he asks, shoving a forkful of chicken tikka into his mouth.

“I guess so.” I frown, but I’m not mad. I’m still
highly embarrassed. There’s a glint in his eye. Why do I get the feeling I
might be in trouble?

* * *

I’m definitely in trouble.
By the time we get back to my place, Dean is all over me again. I can’t even
get the key in the lock because his mouth is on the back of my neck, his hands
caressing my breasts through my dress.

“Dean,” I plead. “Wait a minute.”

“Why?”

“Let me at least get the door open.”