Angel of Redemption (73 page)

I watch her in awe, steadily defending me with
fire in her eyes. Fuck me. But she’s not done.

“It’s good for the boys, too. Every day, they see
him. They see where he’s been, and they recognize that it’s real. They may not
know or understand his whole story, but they know he’s been through something
and they see hope for their own lives because Dean is a good man—one of
the most compassionate and understanding men I’ve ever known. If it were up to
me, I’d have him show the world his ink; not hide it away.”

My mother sits there, speechless. No one has ever
put her in her place like that. Ever. Emily has told her
“no” before and
dug her heels in, but nothing like this. I sort of expect to see an indignant
look on her face, but there isn’t one. She looks like she’s actually
considering what Kayla just said. I glance over at my dad.

“Well said, Kayla.” He grins widely at her. My
mother licks her lips, takes another sip of wine, and sets her glass down.

“I guess I’ve never thought about it that way,”
she says quietly. I thread my fingers through Kayla’s, and we stay that way for
the rest of dinner, regardless of the fact that I’m forced to eat with my left
hand.

Afterward, my mother offers to do the dishes. She’s
not really concerned with the situation at Wyatt House, so my dad hands me a
beer and Kayla another glass of wine, and we sit in the living room to talk.
Kayla briefly goes over the confrontation, but leaves out a lot
—mostly
the things that involve her past. I don’t blame her.

“I know who your stepfather is,” Dad says.

“You do?” Kayla and I ask at the same time,
surprised.

“Yes. I mean, I know of him. I was part of a
conversation amongst doctors a couple years ago.”

“What did you hear?” Kayla asks, tensing. I put
my hand on her knee to calm her.

“I don’t remember exactly. I got the impression
he wasn’t well liked, though. Bit of an elitist, frequently steps over lines
that shouldn’t be crossed.”

“That would be him,” Kayla grumbles.

“He’s been looking for a way to fuck Kayla over
for years. We’re worried about what he’s gonna try,” I tell him. “He could go
after her job, claim misconduct, even gross misconduct.” I shift. “Because of
our relationship. It isn’t exactly
…”

“Your relationship is not an issue,” my dad interrupts.
“Logan and Matty’s care hasn’t been negatively impacted. You didn’t place them
there because of your connection and, from what I understand, Claire and Logan’s
affair began long before yours did, correct?” We both nod. “I’ll make a few
phone calls. I’ll call Roberts tomorrow morning to inform him of the possible
issue, but I really don’t see that Richard Graeme has a leg to stand on.”

“Who’s Roberts?” Kayla asks.

“The family’s attorney,” I explain. “He’s
occasionally stepped in on Wyatt House cases as well. In fact… Dad, do you have
one of his cards?”

My dad stands up and disappears for a minute.
When he comes back, he hands me Stuart Roberts’ card, which I pass on to Kayla.

“If your mother and Richard don’t stop harassing
you, give them his number,” I say. “Dad, can you let him know?”

“Of course.”

We change the topic to the scholarships. Brayden
and Logan are each set to receive one, assuming they enroll in college and keep
a grade point average of 3.0. Their tuition will be paid directly to the schools
they choose, but their living expenses will be dispensed monthly, so they
’ll
be responsible for their individual bills.

“I think it’s a great idea for them to room
together,” my dad agrees. “Although, how do you plan to work that out with the
baby?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t gotten that far,” Kayla
responds. “I’m still trying to adjust to the whole idea of a baby.” I see her
face pale. “I, uh, I’m gonna have to take care of two kids.” She puts her head
down, closing her eyes.

“Dad?” I hand him Kayla’s empty wineglass. He
takes it and heads toward the kitchen, giving us some privacy. Kayla’s breaths
come faster.

“Calm down, baby.”

“I can barely even take care of myself, Dean.
Claire has to finish high school and she needs to go to college. I’m going to have
to figure out a way to pay for that, plus daycare, and I’m not gonna have a
life, and we’re never going to be able to have loud sex again because there’s
going to be a teenager and a baby and
…and you didn’t sign up for this. I
didn’t even think about asking you if this was okay. I mean, we’re together and
you sleep at my house, and if there’s a baby screaming all night…” She’s
panicking. And I probably would be, too, if I wasn’t so focused on getting her
to calm down.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetheart. Breathe,” I try to
soothe. I can practically see her mind moving at four-hundred miles per second.
I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly against my chest. I slow my own
breathing purposefully until she begins to recover. “Better?” I ask after a few
minutes.

“Yes,” she answers softly.
“And no. I
should have talked to you.”

“The most important thing is getting Claire out of
there,” I say, stepping back but keeping my hands on her shoulders. “All the
rest of that stuff we can talk about later.”

My dad re-enters the room with two glasses of
cold water. “Your mother and I are going to take Roxie for a walk. We shouldn’t
be too long.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I nod in appreciation, taking the
drinks. Kayla chugs hers. When they’re gone, she snorts.

“I feel stupid.”

“Don’t.” I stand and pull her up. “Come on. I’ll
give you a tour of Casa de Wyatt.”

I show her around the house, making sure to point
out all the fancy shit my mother loves to show off. I try to sound like that
British dude who did
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
when I was
a kid, but I’m not sure how well I pull it off because Kayla can’t stop
laughing. At least she’s smiling now.

When I open the door to my old room, I cringe. I
haven’t been up here since I was eighteen years old, and my mother has not done
a goddamn thing to it. I watch Kayla look around the room. There are still
posters of bikini-clad women on the fucking wall.

“Uh
…” I scratch my neck, embarrassed.

“Wow, Dean.”

“Yeah. Um, I haven’t lived here since I was a
kid.”

She turns to face me. “Ever had a girl up here?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Really?” I know what she’s asking, but I never
brought Steph up here.

“Never.” That fucking twinkle is in her eyes. She
smiles, walks over to the door, and shuts it.

“So, I’m your first?” she asks coyly. I chuckle.
When she reaches me, she palms me through my jeans. “I guess I better make it
memorable then.”

She pushes me up against the door and slides down
my body. I’m so fucking torn. She’s on her knees pulling my dick out of my
pants, and I really want her to do this, but I have no idea how long my parents
are going to be gone. I feel like I’m seventeen years old.

“Kayla,” I groan, but that’s as far as I get
before she wraps her lips around my cock and sucks me in. I throw my head
backward, banging it on the door. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

Her mouth slowly glides over me a few times. I
try to put my hand on the back of her head to encourage her to speed up, but
she knocks it away.

“You want this?” she asks, swirling her tongue
over the tip.

“Ugh. Yes.”

“Then don’t touch.”

I slam my hands flat against the wood and watch
her. She knows exactly what I like, and she
’s pulling out all the stops,
massaging my balls with one hand while the other pumps the part of me she can’t
fit in her mouth. Her mouth feels good, but I need more. I need all of her.

“Fuck this,” I growl. “Back up.”

She releases me with a frown and stands up. I don’t
give her the opportunity to protest. I push her backward, making her fall onto
the bed with a squeal. She makes a slight attempt to scramble away, but I grab
her leg and pull her toward me.

“Where you going, sweetheart?” I smirk.

“Nowhere.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I spread her legs and lift up her skirt. Not
wanting to waste what little time we have, I slide her panties down her legs
and toss them aside immediately. I kick off my shoes, let my pants and
underwear drop the rest of the way down to the floor, and step out of them.
Pushing her shirt up and her bra down, I cover her tits with my mouth, nipping
gently at her hardened nipple, and enter her. Kayla’s moans egg me on. My old
childhood bed squeaks loudly with each thrust. I think it might break. I don’t
even give a shit about how much noise we’re making because it feels so fucking
good inside her. I start to come, and I have to use my fingers to get her
there. When she does, she arches up into me, closing her eyes tightly. I hold
her until the last wave of her orgasm subsides and then collapse. We lie,
sweaty and breathless, half-dressed and a complete mess. I brush Kayla’s hair
back from her face.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“You seem to have a habit of ruining my best
intentions. That was a little quick.”

She laughs. “I’m not complaining. Considering I
would have been perfectly happy just giving you a blow job, this was an
unexpected treat.” She pushes me off and rolls over. “And I feel much better,
too. Unless your parents are back. Then maybe not so much.”

“Maybe not so much for them, either,” I tease.

We clean ourselves up, not that it would matter.
If my parents are in the house, they absolutely know what we were doing. I
still don’t care. I stand behind Kayla as she’s fixing her hair, watching her
in the mirror above my dresser. Her cheeks are pink, flushed.
She looks
radiant. And I smile because I did that to her. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

“What?” she asks, turning.

I brush my knuckles across her blush.
“Nothing.”

Downstairs, the house is still empty—well, at
least it is for about thirty seconds. My mom and dad walk in, hand in hand,
laughing with Roxie following behind them. Kayla takes a relieved breath. They
are none the wiser.

“See? We can still have lots of loud sex,” I
whisper in her ear only to be rewarded with a swift elbow to the ribs.

After Kayla’s unapologetic statement regarding my
tattoos at dinner, I’m worried my mother will give her the cold shoulder, but
she doesn’t. In fact, she does the exact opposite. She’s friendly and sociable.
I’m suspicious, but my father assures me that my mom is okay. I end up having
to pry Kayla out of her traitorous clutches after an hour of looking at baby
pictures.

“Fuck my life,” I laugh, smacking her ass as I
help her into the car. But I don’t mean it. I’m happy.

Dean

Friday night, Wyatt House
is manic. The stereo is on and the boys are acting like complete idiots. They’re
excited. We’re taking them all out for a steak dinner to celebrate Logan’s
eighteenth birthday.

Aiden and I are standing back, watching them
dance, sing, jump all over the furniture in the den, and knock each other to
the ground WWE style. Emily hisses when Edgar lays a particularly hard hit on
Curtis but both get up laughing. Even Matty is in on it. He and Eric strap on
the giant boxing gloves we bought for the house a couple of Christmases ago and
try to knock each other out. It’s fucking hysterical.

Brayden joins the chaos by running into the room
and jumping on my back when I go to pick up a cup that’s about to get knocked
over.

“Get off me, you little punk,” I laugh. He jumps
off, shoving me forward.

“I’m bigger than you are now,” he jokes, sticking
out his tongue like a ten-year-old.

“Yeah, but I’m still stronger,” I challenge,
throwing a mock punch at his stomach. He bends to protect himself and then
stands up to his full height, grinning at me. He’s got that mischievous look in
his eyes. I only have a second to try and figure out what he’s up to before I’m
attacked from behind, brought down by four other kids. Aiden howls in laughter
as I’m pinned to the ground, grunting when I get a knee to the kidney.

“All right!” Emily finally yells. “Somebody’s
gonna get hurt. Get off him. It’s time to go.”

One by one, they peel off me until I’m able to
get up. I straighten myself up and pat my pockets as they start to file out the
door.

“Hey!” I yell. “Who has my wallet?” I don’t even know
why I ask. Edgar looks guilty as a fucking red-handed bandit. I open my palm,
and he pulls it from behind his back.

“I was just seeing if you were paying attention,”
he says innocently. I slap it against the top of his head.

“Sure you were. I catch you doing that again, and
you and me are gonna have a showdown, got it? Good. Now go get in the car.” I
turn to face my brother. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Brayden about the
missing stuff, but Edgar just gave me reasonable doubt.

“We need to nip this shit,” he says solemnly.

“Yep.”

Aiden, Tracey, Emily, and I did inventory today
of missing things. Video games, electronics, cash, jewelry. We’re all missing
something. I don’t know about Simon since the fucker called in sick
…again.
I left him a message that he’s on for the weekend and better not think about
bailing without a doctor’s note, or he’s going to be out of a job.

As we’re heading out, Logan slumps down the
stairs. He’s far more subdued than the rest of the boys. Claire took my advice
last night and asked him for a little space, just for a couple of days.
Apparently, he threw a big ol’ hissy fit. He still has a lot of growing up to
do.

I put my arm around his shoulders. “You’ll see
her tomorrow, Logan. Just have a good time tonight.”

The restaurant is packed when we get there.
Luckily, Emily was smart enough to book us a banquet room, so we bypass all the
wait-listers.

The kids go all out, ordering a shitload of food
—appetizers,
huge steaks, desserts. We watch them practically inhale every single morsel. It’s
really disgusting. I think we need to work on table manners. Logan has relaxed
a little since we left the house, and when dinner is finished, he opens his
presents. Emily took the younger boys out earlier in the week and told them
they were allowed to spend up to fifty bucks on a gift, but they decided to
pool their money and buy him an Xbox for when he moves out. Emily thought it
was brilliant, so she kicked in to cover the rest. Logan’s excited. Brayden is,
too, since chances are he’ll benefit from that gift as well. Tracey and Bill
got him a couple of games. I’m giving him his gift from Emily, Aiden, and me
tomorrow. Matty wants to meet Claire, so Kayla and I are taking all three kids
out for a “getting to know you” lunch.

I don’t even want to see the bill. After handing
the credit card to the waitress and signing blindly, I immediately shove the
receipt at Emily.

On the way out, I text Kayla to see how she’s
doing. Three huge things have happened in the past thirty-six hours. One,
Richard was arrested on assault charges for hitting Claire. Andy did some
investigating and found that no charges were brought on him relating to Celia.
Kayla was both relieved that her mother might have escaped his anger and upset
that he was getting away with the abuse. Two, the court found cause to give
temporary guardianship of Claire to DHS, so she is officially a child of the
system. Claire wasn
’t happy about that news, but the child welfare court
wants to make sure kinship placements are appropriate, so they monitor the kids
in question for six months before giving full guardianship to the relative. Three,
Richard made bail and was released.

Kayla clearly needed some support. I tried to get
out of my overnight to be with her, but no one could cover me. She said she
understood, but her voice was shaky.

It takes her forever to respond to my text—she
and Claire are at Brian and Karen’s house for dinner—but when she does,
my stomach drops.

There’s such finality in the way it’s written that
I’m afraid to text back, so I don’t.

Nightmares plague me all night. The accident
…sort
of. That’s how it starts out, but then the body of Nadia Wilde stands up and
walks, burning, into a house—Kayla’s house. I follow her inside and there
are bodies everywhere. Aiden, Emily, my parents, the boys, Gage, everyone. They’re
dead, beaten and bloody. Nadia turns around, but it’s Kayla’s face that stares back
at me. She shakes her head really fast, like the ghosts do in those fucked-up
horror movies, and when she stops…she’s Steph, except her eyeballs are black,
empty.

“Fuck!” I shout, bolting upright. I pick up my
phone from the nightstand and stare at it—3:00 a.m. I’ve been asleep for
a little over an hour, but now I’m wide awake. It
’s going to be a long
night.

* * *

By the time we’re ready to
leave for lunch on Saturday, I have single-handedly pissed off nearly every
person in the house with my bad mood. I all but accused Brayden of the thefts,
which he vehemently denied, and then he exploded when I kept on him about it.
After he stormed out, I turned on Edgar, who almost ended up in tears before
Tracey pulled my ass from the room and made me feel like a douchebag for the
way I was behaving.

Logan drives himself while I pack a wary Matty
into my car. He’s the only one I haven’t yelled at and I think he wants to keep
it that way by staying quiet. Within two minutes of being on the road, Matty
turns on the classical music.

“What are you trying to say, Matty?” I chuckle.

“Nothin’.” He turns his head to hide his smile.
After a few minutes, he takes a deep breath. “Are you and Kayla going out?”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye,
wondering exactly what he
’s asking. “Going out where?”

“Is she your girlfriend?
” The look on his
face is curious. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking.

“I…” How do I answer that? Logan flipped his shit
when he found out. Is Matty going to do the same thing?

“It’s okay if you are,” he rushes out, causing me
to breathe out in relief.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “Because
… I think…” He starts
chewing on his lip. “I just think it would be kinda cool, that’s all.”

I hum but don’t answer him. I don’t think I need
to. He already knows; he
’s just looking for confirmation.

When we get to the restaurant, Logan’s already
there. He’s got Claire in his arms and is touching her face. I can see his
concern and underlying anger, but he seems to be doing well and keeping both in
check. Matty gets out slowly, and Kayla gives him a big hug.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi,” he says quietly. Logan lets go of Claire.
She and Matty stare at each other. His eyes wander over her face, lingering on
the bruise. The purple and blue are fading into green and yellow. She’s got it
covered with makeup so it’s barely noticeable unless you’re standing right next
to her, but it’s still there.

“Hi,” Claire finally says with a shy smile. “I’m
Claire.” She reaches out her hand and he shakes it.

“Yeah,” Matty mumbles.

“Let’s go get some food. I’m starving,” Kayla
urges. Logan leads Claire in. When he passes by Matty, he flicks his ear.

“Stop being an asshat,” he grumbles.

“Logan, chill out,” I warn. He frowns at me and
pulls Claire ahead. I hang back with Kayla and rest my hand on her back.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Mmhmm,” she hums.

“You sure? I got your text.”

She looks up at me. “We can talk about it later.”

I fucking hate later.

Lunch is painful. Kayla tries to engage Claire in
conversation with Matty, but they’re both so introverted that it’s like milking
a fucking cat. I’m trying to read Kayla, which isn’t working at all. Logan’s
being overly attentive to Claire, which is obviously agitating her because when
he reaches to take the water pitcher out of her hand to pour it for her, she
slaps him away.

“Knock it off,” she snaps. “I’m perfectly capable
of pouring my own water.”

Matty laughs. He tries to hide his amusement when
Logan glares in his direction, but Claire must see her opportunity. She rolls her
eyes and smiles at Matty.

Things are much more comfortable after that.
Claire and Matty actually exchange a few words. It all stays basic and
uncomplicated, which is the way we wanted it.

“Logan, we need to talk about you going to
Dunwoody in the fall,” Kayla says toward the end of the meal.

He turns his head and glares at me. “I told you
not to tell her!”

“No, you didn’t,” I deny. “You just said you
weren’t telling her.”

“See? This is why this shit pisses me off,” he
says, waving his hand back and forth between Kayla and me. “You guys are all
…whatever,
and now I’ve got no secrets.”

Kayla turns her head to look at Matty, who, as I
suspected, doesn’t look the least bit surprised at the outing of our
relationship.

“Me telling Kayla had nothing to do with us being
together.” I shake my head. “It wouldn’t have mattered who your worker was.
That’s information I would share.
”

“That’s bullshit!”

“I told Brayden’s worker he got accepted. What’s
the difference?” I ask. Logan opens his mouth and then closes it again. He has
nothing.

“I told her, too,” Claire admits. Logan scowls at
her. Claire shrugs. “You didn’t ask me not to.” She smiles, and, for whatever
reason, we all break out into laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha,” Logan grumbles. “It’s not funny.”

“Here,” I say, handing him a bag. “Happy birthday.”

Logan gazes at it for a second before looking
back up at me, and then at Kayla. “What is it?”

“Open it. It’s from me, Aiden, and Emily.”

Logan takes the tissue paper out and then the
canvas bag. His eyes light up.

“Dude. No way.”

I feel Kayla’s hand grip mine under the table. I
squeeze back for no other reason than I’m really fucking happy she’s touching
me. Logan unzips the bag and grins.

“Holy shit! It’s mine?”

I nod. He runs his fingertips over the silver top
of the brand-spanking-new laptop. Matty leans over to get a good look.

“Wow. That’s cool.”

“It’s for doing all that college work.”

Logan snorts. “You don’t leave a guy much choice,
do you?”

“You’ve got too much potential, Logan,” I say
firmly. “We’re giving you the opportunity. Don’t waste it.”

After lunch, we let Logan and Claire take off to
spend some time together. I drop Matty back at the house, where he joins Edgar,
Eric, and Curtis on the basketball court. Simon is just getting there. He looks
hungover and smells like a brewery. Fucker.

“Rough night?” I don’t really care. I just want
to make sure I’m not going to get called back.

“Fuck, man,” he grumbles. He must remember that
he was supposed to be sick because he suddenly droops a little lower. “I still
feel like shit.”

“Uh-huh. I’m heading out. I’ll be back Monday
morning.”

“That girl must have you totally pussy whipped.
But I can imagine why.” His lip curls up in a disgusting grin. I grit my teeth.
He’s baiting me and I don’t want to go there with him.

“Good night, Simon.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Although, with
a fine piece of ass like that, I’d pretty much do anything.
”

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not
to pop the motherfucker in the mouth, and his statement has grabbed the boys’
attention. After the way I was behaving this morning, they’re all waiting for
me to do just that. I can’t
—no matter how much I want to. I walk
away without acknowledging a single word.