Angel of Redemption (81 page)

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight. I’m supposed
to make amends.”

“Amends?”

“Yeah, it’s part of the process. I’m supposed to
make amends with the people my addiction has hurt.” She shrugs. “Other than the
kids, you’re the only one left alive.”

“Okay. You’ve made them.
” I take a few
steps toward the door.

“You’re leaving?”

“Look, Steph,” I say clearly. “I’ve done
everything I can for you. I told Rubin that if he solicits you again, he’ll
have the cops raiding this place faster than you can say ‘5-0,’ so he shouldn’t
give you any more trouble. If he does, call your worker. You have Social
Services working with you. Do what they say, stay sober, find a real fucking
job, and you’ll be fine.”

“You’re not coming back, are you?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve got my own life to
live. I can’t save you.”

“You never could,” she says quietly. Her voice
isn’t angry or accusatory, just matter-of-fact. I open the door to the
apartment.

“Good luck, Stephanie.” I’m about to leave when
she grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

“Just so you know, you weren’t just a john. I did
love you, just not the way you needed me to.” She reaches up and puts her hand
on my cheek before stepping back into her apartment.

And then I walk away.

Pulling up to Wyatt House, I see Simon’s car
parked out front. The only good thing about this is that it means I’m that much
closer to going home to my girl. But when I walk into the house, my mouth goes
dry. There’s a mass of huddled bodies at the bottom of the stairs. Eric turns
to me, his face pale.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, dude,” Edgar screeches. “Matty
just lost it.”

I look at Matty, who’s curled into the fetal
position on the floor. Running over to him, I try to do what Kayla’s told me to
do. I get down to his level and put my hands on his head. He’s trembling
violently and his breathing is way too fast. I keep my voice low and steady.

“Calm down, Matty. You need to breathe. You’re
safe. No one’s going to hurt you, do you understand?” I don’t get any response,
and I can’t tell if anything I’m saying is working. I keep trying, though,
because I don’t know what else to do. Looking up, I see Curtis, Eric, and Edgar
staring at me. They’re so close. Too close.

“Guys, step back,” I tell them. “Where’s Simon?”

“I’m right here.”

I turn to see him standing in the doorway of the
den. “What the hell happened?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. He was fine just a minute
ago.”

I read the rest of the boys
’ faces and can
tell something’s not right. I need to calm Matty down and get him to talk.

“Go! All of you. Find something to do,
” I
order. Everyone disappears, and I return my focus to Matty. “Come on, Matty.
Come back. I’m right here. I need you to focus. Take some deep breaths, buddy.”

It takes another five minutes or so, but his
breathing eventually slows and I watch him come back down. I breathe a sigh of
relief. I’m so ready for him to start therapy.

“Come on, kid,” I say, helping him up. “Let’s go
back to my office.”

Simon moves to follow us and when Matty realizes
it, his body starts to tremble. I put my hand out.
“I don’t need you
right now,” I say coldly. “If I do, I’ll let you know.”

He glances at Matty, frowning, but obliges,
turning into his own office instead.

Matty walks in front of me silently and I keep my
hand on his shoulder until he sits down. I watch the seconds tick by on the
clock on my wall, waiting for him to say something
—anything. He
doesn’t. He just keeps his eyes trained on an invisible spot on my desk.

“Talk to me, Matty.”

“He told me he was gonna have Logan arrested,” he
says quietly.

“Simon did?” I ask. Matty nods. “Have Logan
arrested? For what?”

“For stealing.”

“Stealing what?”

“Everything. All the stuff that’s missing. He
said he could pin it on Logan.”

“Logan’s the one who’s been stealing?”

He shakes his head. “No
… It was me.” His
voice is so weak. The waver in it tells me he’s close to tears.

“Why would you do that, Matthew?” I ask, shocked.

“Because Simon told me if I didn
’t get
that stuff for him, he would tell you guys about Logan and Claire, and Logan
and I would get moved.” He looks up at me, his eyes bloodshot. I groan and
scratch my jaw. I’m trying not to show the fury that is raging in my blood. We
let that man into this house. We trusted him to care for these boys.

“Do you know what he was doing with it?
” I
growl.

Matty shrugs. “I don’t know. I heard him talking
to someone about owing money. When you guys found out about Logan and Claire
anyway, I told him I wasn’t going to do it anymore. He got mad.”

“That’s what caused the panic attack?”

He nods.
“I’m sorry, Dean. I…”

“It’s okay, buddy. I just want you to relax. I’ll
take care of it.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“We’ll
have a talk about the stealing.”

He lowers his head.

“But I’m not mad at you.
This is all on
Simon. He had no fu…” I tamper my language and take a breath. “He had no right
to do that to you. And he will answer for it, I swear. I will not allow him to
hurt you,” I promise.

“
Okay,” he says softly.

“
I am a little disappointed you didn’t
come to me. I thought we were doing well.”

“We are,” he rushes out. “I just didn’t want
Logan to get kicked out.”

I’m worried he’s going to get worked up again, so
I take it back down a notch.

“All right. Why don’t you go ahead and go?” I
walk him out and give him a huge hug.

“I’m really sorry,” he whimpers. He sounds so
much like a little boy that I’m reminded of just how young he is.

“I know you are, Matty. We’ll have to work on
this trust thing, but we’ll get through it.”

He lets go of me and wipes his nose with his
sleeve. I wait until I can hear his footsteps on the stairs, and then shut my
door and head into Simon’s office.

“How is he?” he asks, looking up.

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business anymore,”
I say flatly. He narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“I think you heard me, Simon. Pack up your shit.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on.”

I fold my arms across my body. I’m pissed and
trying not to blow a gasket. “I can put up with a lot. I didn’t like you from
the beginning, but I let Aiden and Emily hire you anyway. You’ve had a smart
mouth and a fucked-up attitude, but I could deal. What I can’t handle is that
you took a kid—one of
my
kids who was already vulnerable—and
manipulated him into doing your dirty work.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking
about,” he protests.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? They’ve all
told me in their own way that there’s something wrong with you. I just wasn’t
listening. I don’t care what you did with our things. I don’t care what you
needed them for. I just want you gone.”

“Wait! You’re gonna take the word of some fucked-up
little hooligan over mine?”

I stare at him so hard, he has to look away.
“Absolutely.”

“It was Logan!”

I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t. Logan’s got too
much to lose. And he’s smarter than you.”

He comes around his desk to stand two feet in
front of me.

“This is fucking bullshit, Dean. You can’t do
this.”

“Actually, I can. You’ve got an hour.” I start to
turn, but I can’t help myself—I move fast and land a heavy blow right to
his gut. “
That’s for disrespecting my girlfriend and fucking with my
kids. Now get the hell out of my house before I call the police.”

Tracey and Brayden get home from the grocery store
just as I’m leaving Simon’s office. I explain to them what’s happened and have
them oversee his packing so he doesn’t do any more damage. Then I escort him
out of the house in front of all the boys. I don’t scold them when they taunt
him or yell profanities. Fucker deserves it. Fortunately for all of us, Logan’s
at work, and other than my retributory shot, the whole thing happens without
violence.

When he’s gone, I call Aiden and tell him what
happened, then we have a conference call with our dad. It’s not a pleasant
conversation. My dad’s pissed we didn’t know anything. Neither one of us has
any excuse, nor do we even try to defend ourselves.

“I’ll call Kayla and tell her I gotta stay here
tonight,” I groan after my dad leaves the call. Since Simon was supposed to
cover the night shift, I’m stuck.

“It’s okay,” my brother answers. “Emily said she’d
do it. She hasn’t done an overnight in weeks and Ash is at a sleepover, so it’s
just me and Caleb tonight.”

“You guys just left.”

“And you’ve been here for forty-eight hours
straight. It’ll be fine. Go home, get laid, come back in the morning.”

“Thanks, Aiden,” I sigh.

“No problem. I’m just sorry we didn’t listen to
you about Simon to begin with.”

“Yeah, well, now we need to go through that whole
fucking process again.”

Aiden laughs. “We’ll figure it out, D. I’ll talk
to you tomorrow.”

Emily shows up not too much later, and I brief
her on everything I know. When Logan gets home from work, he’ll need to be
told.

“You going to talk to Kayla about Stephanie
tonight?” she asks.

“Yep.”

“Good. She loves you, Dean. Just remember that.”

Just remember that.
I try to remember that
all the way home, but it’s not as easy as it should be.

Kayla’s car is already in the driveway when I get
there. I let myself in. She’s sitting on the couch, still in her work clothes.
She looks upset. My heart stutters in my chest. I have to tell her about Steph.
I can’t afford for anything else to get in the way. Walking in cautiously, I
set my keys down on the side table and look at her.

“Hey, baby,” I say, concerned. “What’s the
matter?”

When she raises her eyes to me, I see that they’re
red-rimmed and bloodshot. I hold back my panic, thinking that something must
have happened to Claire, or Andy, or her dad. What she says knocks the wind out
me.

“Were you ever planning to tell me about her, or
were you just hoping I’d never find out?”

I don’t even have to ask who she’s talking about.
My stomach churns, and I feel like I’m going to puke. I am so fucked.

Kayla

The day after Logan’s
graduation, I’m on call. I’m happy to sit in my office and do paperwork. Warren
brings me coffee and we gossip for the first hour of the morning before he has
to leave for court. Sara and Dana are in and out all day. Nothing in particular
happens, and when it hits three o’clock, I actually let myself relax.

“Hey,” I greet my best friend as she walks through
the door.

“Hi.” Her voice is quiet and strained, and she
doesn’t make eye contact with me as she makes her way to her desk.

“What’s up?”

She sits down and fiddles with her stuff. I know
she heard me, but I wonder if I should repeat myself. Instead, I just stare at
her. I watch every single one of her nervous habits make an appearance, and
then disappear just as quickly when she realizes what she’s doing. Finally, she
looks up. I raise my eyebrows questioningly.

“Uh. I just came back from visiting my new case.
The sibling one I got a couple of weeks ago
—addict mom, two kids.
The one where the kids freaked out when I tried to end the visit. She got a new
place, and I was going to do a safety check.”

“Oh. How’d it go?”

“Um, well, it was in a crappy part of town, but
the apartment was okay. Messy and it kinda stunk, but I’ve seen worse.”

I shrug, not quite sure what the weirdness is
about. “And?”

“When I got there, I got a little lost and ended
up going around a corner. When I turned myself back around, I heard voices. The
woman I was there to see had a guy in her apartment. I recognized his voice, so
I poked my head around the corner.” Sara’s face is pained.

“Who was it?”

She’s hesitant. Sara is never hesitant. “Um, it
…it
was Dean.”

It takes a second for what she’s said to
register, but when it does, I laugh.
“Funny.”

“I’m not joking, Kayla,” she says quietly. “They
looked kinda
… intimate. Her hand was on his face.”

“Uh
…” I’m not sure what to say. “Maybe the
guy just looked like Dean,” I try, desperate for this to be some kind of joke.
Sara shakes her head.

“It was him, Kay. I asked her who he was. She said
he was her ex, Dean. That it was his place, but he was letting her live there
because he spent most of his time at Wyatt House.”

“What’s the name?” I ask, my voice weaker than I
intend.

“Stephanie Newbaker. Her kids are Abigail and
Zachary.” My stomach jumps into my painfully-dry throat. Stephanie. Steph.
Abigail. Oh, God.

“I’m so sorry, Kay. I mean, I don’t know what he
was doing there. Maybe
—.”

I hold up my hand to stop her. I don’t need a
bunch of speculation. I just need the truth. I lower my head and try not to let
the devastation that I’m feeling completely cut off my air supply.

“Zachary?”

Sara nods. “He’s three.
”

“What’s he look like?”

Sara shrugs.
“He’s a little boy. Cute.”

“Did she say who his father is?
”

Sara looks confused.
“No.” Then she
realizes what I’m wondering. “Oh, no, Kayla. I don’t think—”

“Do you have his birth certificate?” I interrupt.

She grabs a file off her desk and flips through
the pages. She stops when she finds what she
’s looking for.

“Father’s not listed. You don’t really think Dean’s
the father, do you?”

“I don’t know what to think. He’s obviously been
lying to me. Does he look like Dean?”

Sara shakes her head.
“I don’t know. He’s
blond. Neither of them is blond.” She sounds unsure.

“Okay. Thanks,” I whisper hoarsely.

Sara stays with me the rest of the afternoon,
although we spend it in silence. I manage to hold back the tears, but my
eyesight is blurry, and I can’t focus on the words on my computer screen. I
answer a few phone calls even though my mind is jumping all over the place in
an attempt to keep from losing it. I’m essentially useless.

Getting home, I sit down on my couch and finally
let myself consider exactly what Sara said. Dean was at his old apartment
—with
his ex-wife. The ex-wife who’s a junkie. The ex-wife who’s a prostitute. The
ex-wife who absolutely destroyed him. Or so he says. I’m having a hard time rationalizing
it in my head. I know there has to be some kind of explanation, but right now,
I don’t care what it is. I just want it not to be true. And she has a little
boy. Is that why she’s living at Dean’s place? Because he’s the father? Or
maybe he doesn’t know. The questions keep coming. I can feel my blood pressure
rising.

When the front door opens, I close my eyes
tightly and take a breath.

“Hey, baby. What’s the matter?” I can hear a
slight tremble in his voice. He knows something’s wrong. I don’t want to look
at him, but I have to.

“Were you planning to tell me about her, or were
you just hoping I’d never find out?” I don’t mean to just spit it out like
that, but I guess my mind and my mouth have different ideas. Dean looks like I’ve
just slapped him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and I can see his
chest rise as he takes a step forward.

“Kayla, I
…uh.” He gapes a little more. “It’s
not what you think.”

“It’s not what I think? I think I found out today
that my boyfriend has been lying to me for God knows how long.”

“Just let me explain.” Somewhere in the back of
my head I’ve been hoping he would deny it, tell me it isn’t true, but that’s
not what’s happening and it makes me want to scream. Instead, I grit my teeth
together and stand up.

“Are you sleeping with her?” I spit out.

“NO!” he shouts immediately. “Jesus fucking
Christ, Kayla. No! “

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest
painfully. A bead of sweat drips from the nape of my neck down my spine.

“I really want an explanation, but I’ve been in
emotional chaos for the last few hours. Honestly I’m pissed, and I don’t think
I can have an adult conversation about this right now.”

“Kayla?” he pleads.

“No!” I snap. “I’m tired, and if we do this, I’m
going to say things I may not mean so just
…” I put my hand up and then
clench my fist, “not right now.”

“I was going to tell you,
” he says,
quietly.

I snort, a sarcastic laugh escaping
unintentionally.

“I was. I just didn’t know how.”

“You open your mouth and say ‘Kayla, I’m still
involved with my ex-wife and she’s living in my apartment.’ That’s how you tell
me.”

“I’m not involved with her,” he protests.

“So you haven’t seen her in the last couple of
weeks?” I ask. A pained sound escapes his mouth as his face contorts into a
grimace. I shove my thumbnail into my mouth and nod, trying to control the
anger that’s rapidly taking over. “And she’s not living in your apartment?”

He looks away from me, his jaw shifting. I can
practically feel the guilt rolling off him.

“She’s living there, but I’m not. I’m either here
or at Wyatt House. You know that.”

I shake my head. “Right now, I don’t know
anything other than the fact that you lied to me.
” I want to ask him
about Zachary, but I’m not sure I’m prepared to hear the answer.

“Kayla,” he groans, reaching out a hand. I look
at it. “Can we just
…”

“I need a little space tonight, Dean. Can you
give me that? Just tonight. Please.”

He frowns. “You want me to leave?”

No.

I really don’t want him to go, but I can’t stand
my conflicting emotions. I want to yell at him and push him away. I want to
fuck him raw and take out all my anger and frustration on his body. I want to
fall into his arms and cry, showing him exactly what he’s done to me.

“Yes.”

He scrubs his hands over his face and closes his
eyes. “Okay. Um
… I don’t know if I have to work tomorrow night. I fired
Simon.”

My mouth drops open. My instinct tells me to ask
what happened, but I can see in his eyes that’s exactly what he’s waiting for.

“Okay.” I respond. I can see he’s not happy, but
he doesn’t fight. He stares at me for a few seconds and then turns. When he
reaches the door, a horrible thought pops into my head. “Dean?” He turns. “Just
don’t go back to your place. Don’t
…go back to her.” It’s hard to get the
words out. They physically hurt to say.

“There’s nothing going on, Kayla. I swear.”

I want to believe him, I really want to. I just
need some time.

After he leaves, I stare at the door for several
minutes. Part of me wants him to come back, but the overwhelming part of me is
so angry. And hurt. How could he not tell me? If there really wasn’t anything
going on, why would he keep it from me?

I wander back to my bedroom and strip off my work
clothes, drawing myself a bath so hot it’ll probably boil me alive, but I don’t
really care. Stepping in, the sting of heat hits my foot. My instinct is to
jump out, but there’s a relief in the pain. Slowly, my skin begins to adjust,
although the bright-red color should be an indicator that I’m doing some
damage.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, listening to
the water drip from the spout and trying not to think about why everyone I love
seems to think they need to keep things from me. Andy and Sara, Claire, now
Dean. I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty understanding and patient
person. I’ve been through enough of my own shit that I tend not to judge
—and
yet those closest to me obviously don’t agree.

I hear the roar of an engine from outside. Logan’s
car is unmistakable. But Claire wasn’t supposed to be home until seven. Lifting
my hands out of the water, I see my fingers are pale and wrinkled. The water is
lukewarm at best.

I lift myself out and wrap a towel around my
body. The clock in my bedroom does, in fact, read 7:13 p.m. I completely zoned
out or fell asleep in the tub. Either way, all I want to do is climb into bed
and sleep. After slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, that’s
exactly what I do.

I vaguely hear a knock on my door at some point.
It opens and Claire’s soft voice calls my name, but I ignore it and hear the
door close again.

My sleep is riddled with images of Dean and me.
Snapshots from the weekend: his sexy smirk when he’s about to pounce, and the
muscles in his body stretching and straining as he hovers above me. But they’re
not good dreams. There’s an unpleasant shadow hanging over us. I swear at one
point I can actually feel him, his fingers in my hair, his lips on my forehead.
I hear him say the words I’ve wanted to hear. That’s when I know it’s another
dream. Opening my eyes to an empty room, I sigh, roll over, and try to fall
back asleep.

* * *

When the sun finally
starts to rise, I’m already wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

“Kayla?” I hear Claire say as she opens my door.

“Yeah? I’m up,” I groan. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. Why is Dean on the couch?”

I bolt upright. “He’s what?”

“He’s, like, passed out on the couch. Did you
guys have a fight or something?”

I grit my teeth. “Or something.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” She grimaces. I get
out of bed and stand up, stretching my arms over my head. “Should I stay in my
room?” she asks cautiously. I shake my head and then abruptly stop. Claire
looks nervous, and I realize that when Richard and our mom fought, things
probably got a little out of control. I reach for her hand.

“No, honey. It’ll be fine. You know how I told you
Dean and I have our problems? Well, that’s what’s going on. We’re dealing with
stuff.”

“So you’re not mad at him?”

I sigh. “No. I’m extremely angry with him, but it’s
nothing you need to worry about, okay?” I glance over at the clock and blanch.
“Shit!”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing. You overslept. I
thought maybe you were sick.”

“I didn’t oversleep, I just wasn’t paying
attention. Fuck. I have to be in court in an hour. Can you make me some
coffee?”

She nods and leaves. I shower and dress quickly
before heading to the kitchen. Claire was right, Dean is facedown on the couch,
fully dressed except for his shoes and socks. I know he’s awake. Dean doesn’t
sleep that soundly. Especially not when he’s on the couch.

“I thought I asked you to go.”

He sits up and opens his eyes, rubbing them with
the tips of his fingers. By the look of him, he didn’t sleep at all.

“You did,
” he answers. I raise my eyebrows,
and he shrugs. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

I huff. “I don’t have time for this right now. I
have to go to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

He doesn’t move from the couch, and I don’t force
it. Claire hands me a travel mug full of coffee and my purse, and I book it out
the door. Before I drive off, I grab my phone from my bag and look at it. I’ve
got three missed calls and two voicemails. The first is Andy, calling to check
in on me. The second is Emily.