Angel of Redemption (9 page)

“
Well, you
’
ve got two whole weeks in the lap of
luxury right here, so live it up. But no booze, no boys, and no sex.
”

“
Well, what the heck is left?
”
she squeals. I snort and then realize what she
’
s just said.

“
Wait
…
please
tell me you
’
re
not doing those things already.
”
I know I
’
m
being a hypocrite, but I don
’
t want my sister taking the same path
I did.

“
No.
”
Claire frowns.
“
I
’
ve only ever had wine and I
’
m not even allowed out with a boy, so sex is pretty much
off the table.
”

“
Oh, good,
”
I sigh, relieved.

“
Topic change. How
’
s work?
”

“
Same old, same old,
”
I mock. The front door opens and Andy wanders in, holding
two bags of takeout. Claire and I descend on him like vultures.

“
Holy shit!
”
he yells.
“
What is this, feeding time at the zoo?
What is wrong with you women?
”

Claire
opens one of the Styrofoam containers and pops a piece of sesame chicken into
her mouth.

“
We
’
re hungry. You took too long.
”

Andy
narrows his eyes at my little sister, but he can
’
t hold it. He smiles.

“
Hey, Claire-bear. How you been?
”

“
Thank you, thank you, thank you for
talking to Daddy,
”
Claire says, wrapping her arms around
Andy and hugging tightly.

“
Yeah, yeah,
”
he feigns nonchalance. It was Andy who finally convinced my
stepfather that Claire would be okay staying with us. It doesn
’
t matter that I
’
m a completely different person than I
used to be. It doesn
’
t matter that
I’m
an adult with a respectable job that
requires a background check and random drug tests. I will always be the
troublemaker; the stepdaughter he never wanted.

After
dinner, I pull out my laptop to work on my court report while Andy and Claire
watch TV. After a couple hours, I
’
m done. The words on the page are blurring together, and I
accidentally typed the same sentence three times.

“
I gotta go to bed, guys,
”
I groan, standing up and stretching my arms over my head.

“
Good night,
”
Claire yawns.

“
You
’
ve got school tomorrow. Try not to
stay up too late, please.
”

“
I won
’
t,
”
she assures.

“
Night, buttercup,
”
Andy mumbles.

As
wiped out as I am, I don
’
t sleep well. Every time I close my eyes, I see green ones
staring back at me. By the time I wake up in the morning, I think I
’
m even more tired than I was before I
went to bed. Luckily, Friday is an easy day. I
’
m on call, so I sit in the office all
day long catching up on paperwork and phone calls.

I
’
m very tempted to Google Dean Wyatt,
but I
’
m
afraid of what I
’
ll
find. It couldn
’
t
be that bad, or they
’
d never let him work with kids, but, at the same time I
’
m pretty sure those are prison tats he
has on his knuckles. I wonder where else he
’
s inked? No, I
don’t—or
at least I shouldn’t…but
I do. Damn it.

Claire
and I do girly shit on Friday night while Andy goes out with some of his
buddies from work. It
’
s fun. I don
’
t get to see my sister as much as I
’
d like to. We end up renting some teen-scream
movie, which isn
’
t
very good, but Claire has a crush on one of the actors, so I go with it. We
paint each other
’
s
toenails, put on mud masks, and pass out around 1:00 a.m. on the living room
floor.

I
think I hear Andy stumble in at some point, but I have no idea what time. I
wake up with a sore back and a horrible crick in my neck. Worst of all, those
damn green eyes haunted my dreams again last night. I don
’
t remember anything else, just the
eyes. It
’
s
pissing me off how that infuriating man is starting to invade my thoughts. I
wonder what he does on his days off. Is he clubbing or partying? Does he have a
girlfriend? Is he married? He wasn
’
t wearing a wedding band, but that doesn
’
t mean a whole lot. Lots of people don
’
t wear wedding bands even when they
’
re married. I shouldn
’
t be this curious
—
it
’
s
none of my business
—
but I am.

“
What
’
s the story behind the Wyatt brothers?
”
I spit out the second Andy gets home from the gym that
afternoon.

“
What do you mean?
”
he asks, pulling a beer out of the fridge.

“
I mean, I just placed Logan and Matty
there, and I
’
m
hearing rumors. Should I be concerned?
”

Andy
clears his throat. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. Shit, he can see
right through me.

“
I think it
’
s a good placement for Logan. For
Matty
…”
He shrugs.
“
I honestly don
’
t know. I guess time will tell.
”
I watch him take a pull of his beer, his eyes never leaving
mine.
“
As
for the brothers, I don
’
t know much about them. I usually deal with Emily or Aiden.
He
’
s
a good guy. Funny. I
’
ve only met Dean once. I think he
’
s more guarded, but he
’
s got a perspective that most don
’
t. The kids seem to respect and trust
him, which, for those kids, is huge.
”

“
What does that mean? What
’
s his perspective?
”
I ask hastily. Andy takes a deep breath.

“
He did some time a few years back. Got
into some trouble as a kid, spent some time in juvie, and then blew his
probation when he got out.
”

“
So, he served hard time?
”

“
Yeah. A few years, I think.
”

I
can tell Andy knows more details, but just as I
’
m about to demand to hear them, Claire
walks into the room.

“
Hey,
”
she waves.
“
I
’
m hungry. What
’
s for dinner?
”

I
look at Andy, but I can tell he
’
s said all he
’
s going to about Dean for the moment.

By
the next afternoon, I
’
m feeling much better. Andy and Claire are busy beating
each other up on Wii boxing. It
’
s hysterical. They
’
re trash talking, and my sides hurt from laughing so much.
The children
’
s
lawyer vs the honor student. I don
’
t even know half the words they
’
re slinging at each other. When my phone
rings, I answer without even looking at it.

“
Hello?
”
I say, laughter still in my voice.

“
Kayla? This is Aiden Wyatt.
”

I
’
m immediately on alert, my amusement
at Claire and Andy
’
s antics fading.

“
Hi, Aiden,
”
I say tentatively. I
’
m already wincing. This can
’
t be good. I see Andy glance back at
me, his expression a mixture of concern and annoyance.

“
I
’
m sorry to be calling you, but is there any way you can
come to the house? We
’
re having an issue.
”

“
What
’
s Logan done?
”
I sigh.

“
Not Logan. Matty.
”

Dean

“
You
’
re
such a dick.
”

“
And why
’
s
that?
”
I ask my brother flatly, pressing my
palms into my eyes. He
’
s just returned from the grocery store and apparently is
now chastising me.

“
You want me to make you a list?
”
he deadpans.
“
You
could have at least been nice to her.
”

“
I was nice.
”

Aiden
scoffs.
“
You were an asshole. What the fuck is
the matter with you?
”

“
Nothing
’
s the matter. It
’
s been a long day. Hell, it
’
s been a long week. I
’
m just ready for a break.
”

My
brother sits down and crosses his ankle over his knee.
“
You
’
re full of shit, but nice try.
”

I
don
’
t
want to listen to this.
“
Just leave it alone, please?
”

“
Okay. Fine, I will. But tell me this
first,
”
he starts. I know he
’
s about to piss me off because he
scoots his chair back a little, out of reach.
“
Is
it because Stephanie really fucked you over that badly, or is it because you
don
’
t
think Kayla will understand about the Wildes?
”

“
Fuck you!
”
I shout, standing up and sending my chair flying backward
into the wall. He
’
s
lucky this desk is between us. My brother shakes his head.

“
I just think it
’
s a shame,
”
he says, standing up and walking toward the door.
“
In the five minutes of interaction you had with her when
she first got here
…
Man, I haven
’
t seen you look at a woman like that
in ten years. Ten years, Dean. That
’
s how long it
’
s been. Do you realize that?
”

I grit my teeth together so hard I think I might
chip a tooth.

“You are so worried about people understanding,
but if there’s one person who could, it’s most likely her. And you’re going to
let her walk away? You’re an idiot.”

I want to punch him, but I can’t. We don’t allow
physical violence on Wyatt House grounds. Hitting Aiden now would make me a
fucking hypocrite. “By the way, Mom and Dad want you to stop by their house on
Saturday night for dinner. Mom seems to think you’re avoiding her.” He walks
out and shuts the door firmly behind him. Prick.

I
pick up my stapler and am about to hurl it across the room when I realize it
might leave a nasty dent in the door. Instead, I grab the stress ball Brayden
got me for Christmas
and hurl
it
across the room. It hits the door with a dull
thud
and falls to the ground unceremoniously.

I
know how fucking long it
’
s been. I don
’
t need my brother or my parents
—
or anyone else for that matter
—
reminding me. Fuck them. They have no idea.

I
glance at the clock on my phone. It
’
s
time for me to go home. Standing up, I pick up my coat, grab my shit, and head
out, locking my office behind me.

“
I
’
m outta here,
”
I say, popping my head into the den where most of the boys
are.

“
Adios,
amigo
,
”
Edgar sings.

“
Ciao
,
”
Curtis waves.

“
Gute Nacht
,
”
Logan says, making the rest of the boys snicker.
“
What? I thought maybe we were doing some sort of
international farewell thing.
”

“
You
’
re such a douche,
”
Brayden laughs.

“
Where
’
s everyone else?
”
I ask, scanning the room.

“
Matty
’
s probably in his room,
”
Logan tells me, looking back down at the book in front of
him.

“
All right. Tracey
’
s supervising dinner tonight. Edgar.
”
I wait until he
’
s looking at me again before I continue.
“
You and Eric better not give her a hard time, understand?
”
Edgar stares at me with a blank look on his face, and I
have no idea if he
’
s actually heard what I said.
“
Edgar?
”

Brayden
kicks his foot out, knocking against Edgar
’
s thigh.

“
Ouch, asshole.
”

“
Edgar?
”
I say a little louder and much more aggravated.

“
What?
”

“
Did you hear me? Do not
—”

“
Give Tracey a hard time. Yeah, I heard
you. I won
’
t.
”

“
Thank you.
”

Making
my way to Emily
’
s
office, I knock on the door even though it
’
s open. She
’
s sitting at her desk, staring at the computer screen, but
looks up when I enter.

“
Hey, you leaving?
”
she asks.

“
Yeah. I
’
m going to go crash for the next
twelve hours. I didn
’
t sleep well last night.
”

“
Surprise, surprise.
”
She frowns. I shrug, and she continues.
“
I
’
m heading out in a few, too. I promised my kids I
’
d eat dinner with them at your parent
’
s house tonight. Oh, did Aiden tell
you
—”

“
That my presence is required on
Saturday night?
”
I interrupt.

Emily
laughs.
“
Come on, Dean. Give the woman a break.
She loves you.
”

“
I know she does. I
’
ve never doubted that for a moment.
”
I love my mother, I do, but I can
’
t stand the constant criticism. She doesn
’
t like the way I live. She doesn
’
t understand why I live in a shitty apartment when I could afford
a decent place in a nicer neighborhood. She thinks I
’
m too good for the women I choose to spend my free time
with. She refuses to acknowledge the things I
’
ve
done or the fact that my mistakes are entirely my own fault. She wants me to be
someone else. And I can
’
t. I don
’
t
deserve better.

“
I
’
ll see you in a few days, Em.
”

“
Yep. Night, Dean.
”
I don
’
t bother saying good night to my brother. I
’
m still pissed at him for bringing up
Steph and the Wildes. As if I don
’
t think about that shit every single day. Fucker. Yes, I
’
m acting juvenile, but I don
’
t care.

* * *

My apartment is cold. Fucking freezing, actually. That
’
s the biggest problem with living in a
shithole. Nothing ever works. It
’
s two hundred degrees in the summer and twenty below in the
winter. There
’
s
no point in complaining because my landlord
’
s a dick.

I
don
’
t
bother with the lights. I just head back to my bathroom, stripping my shirt off
as I go. I shower quickly, pull on a pair of flannel pants and climb into bed.
I don
’
t
even care that it
’
s
only
seven o’clock. I’m
exhausted.

I love my sheets. They’re like silk. They are
among the few things I insisted on getting immediately after I was released.
Prison beds are not comfortable. The food was gross, but whatever; methods of
entertainment were all right; but the beds… The very first thing I did when I
got out was buy the softest bedding I could find, and I’ve never looked back.
The beds at Wyatt House are nice, but they aren’t quite as soft, so whenever I
come back to my apartment, I’m like a child with his favorite blanket. I’d buy
a set for the house, but then I’d probably never leave; and sometimes I really
need to leave. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the boys—their lives,
their pasts, their futures. Most of the time I welcome the obsession. When I
focus on their lives, I don’t have to dwell on mine.

I
wake abruptly at 5:00 a.m. Friday morning, shooting straight up like an arrow
in bed. It
’
s
sad when you wake up because you
’
re freaked out from
not
having
one of the nightmares you
’
re plagued with almost every fucking
night. I lie back on my pillows and close my eyes, hoping that I can get back
to sleep, but it doesn
’
t happen. Eventually I give up and get out of bed.

After
starting the coffeepot, I try to find something for breakfast. I find bread,
but it
’
s
moldy. There are breakfast sausages in the fridge, but I
’
m not brave enough to eat them. I can
’
t remember when I bought them and that
’
s always a bad sign. Finally, I pour a
bowl of Fruit Loops. Unfortunately, when I sniff the milk, I figure out it
’
s fucking rancid, so I sit down and
eat my cereal dry. Whatever. I don
’
t care. Food
’
s food, right? I take a bite. Stale.

I
guess I know what I
’
m doing today.

The
grocery store sucks. I always either buy too much or not enough. Tracey taught
me to cook and I
’
m
pretty good at it, but I
’
ve never figured out how to shop for myself. I
’
m always halfway in-between one place
or the other, and I don
’
t always anticipate the amount of time I
’
m going to spend in either one. On top
of that, my apartment kitchen is old and barely functional, so I don
’
t really like cooking there.

After
stocking up on food for the next three days, I spend the majority of the day in
front of the television. I could be doing any number of things, but I
’
m just enjoying the fact that I don
’
t have to do them. Eventually, I do
get up. My ass is numb and I feel like a loser. Putting on a pair of clean
jeans and a T-shirt, I make my way to Hudson
’
s Sports Bar.

A hockey game’s on tonight, and there’s already a
pretty decent crowd. Sitting down at the bar, I see my buddy Lance working
alongside Jodi, a stunning blonde who has hit on me every time I’ve come in for
the last two years. She’s not subtle about what she wants from me, but I’ve
never taken her up on her offers. Honestly, she’s not really my type.

As
if she can hear me thinking about her, Jodi looks up from serving a couple down
at the other end of the bar and waggles her fingers in my direction.