by Amy Lane
He was so preoccupied with his musing on mortality that he almost forgot why he was opening the door.
“Brandon?” Technically the gigantic auburn-haired construction worker at the door wasn’t related to Sammy in any way. Tino’s sister was married to Brandon’s cousin, which should have made them… well, boyfriends, because besides Gwennie, Brandon had been Sammy’s biggest crush in high school. But Brandon and Taylor had been love at first fight, and Sammy had stopped worrying about his love life and started investing himself in his music and education.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy to see Brandon now.
“Heya, Sammy,” Brandon said with a tired smile. He stepped back, swinging a full pink duffel bag over his shoulder. The bag sported shiny creases and that bright petrol smell of new plastic. “C’mon, Felicity. This is Sammy—remember, I told you we were taking you to a family.”
The girl who stepped forward displayed a mix of genetics—long, straight brown hair, a round face, faintly almond-shaped hazel eyes. She eyed Sammy distrustfully for a moment while Sammy summoned his best smile.
“Uh, hi, Felicity! I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting anybody, but come on in.” Sammy had known Brandon for a long time, and they had one of those eyeball conversations in family language that could happen between cousins or brothers or spouses. “Hey, I think Brandon needs to talk to my uncles. How about I take you to the kitchen? We’ve got some leftover meatloaf or some cookies—either of those sound good?”
He watched her swallow with such fervency he was pretty sure she’d missed dinner. “Meatloaf?”
“And lasagna from last night.” He stepped aside and ushered her through the door. “Come on. Let’s get you fed, and then it’s cartoon time for the little kids. You can join them if you like.”
She bit her lip. “I have homework,” she said in a small, wobbly voice, showing him a worn and fraying backpack. “Can I do that and watch cartoons?”
Sammy met Brandon’s gaze again and saw only compassion and resolve. “Yeah,” Sammy said, smiling. “Dinner first, homework and cartoons next—then cookies!” He made his voice bright, and she smiled at him worshipfully and followed him to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Brandon was having a low-voiced, intense discussion with Channing and Tino in the study Sammy had just vacated, and Felicity was working on the lasagna chaser to the meatloaf she’d practically inhaled.
Sammy took her plate to the sink and started rinsing things off to put in the dishwasher. Gretchen, their housekeeper, didn’t live with them like Carrie had, and he didn’t like leaving crusty dishes until morning. Gretchen had an entire family to feed, and she’d been strictly business from the moment she’d been hired. Sammy didn’t mind that—it wasn’t a housekeeper’s job to be family—but he missed the camaraderie of Carrie with her warmth and her infectious smile.
“So,” Sammy said casually, “you skipped dinner?”
Felicity looked up from gulping milk. “I forgot my lunch,” she admitted. “And Coop tries to make me take a breakfast bar or something when I leave in the morning, but I spaced that too.”
“Oh no!” Sammy closed the dishwasher and propped himself up on the stool kitty-corner to her. “That’s awful. I used to skip lunch on purpose if I didn’t like the food, but I was sneaky. I’d only do it when Tino was picking me up from school, because I knew he’d take me through the drive-thru and I’d get a milkshake.”
He grinned at her, expecting a smile back, but he got embarrassment, and she avoided his gaze. “Coop can’t afford drive-thru,” she whispered. “He can barely afford me, but he tries real hard.”
Oh. Sammy resisted the temptation to look around the big kitchen, with its bright blue tile and worn center island. The window overlooked the pool patio and everything. The entire house must have been sort of a shock for a girl who couldn’t afford drive-thru.
“Where’s Coop now?” he asked gently.
Her eyes grew bright and spilled over. “Brandon said he got hurt at work. Brandon showed me pictures of him and this other scary-looking guy with an eye patch standing next to Coop’s bed in the hospital.” She looked at Sammy pleadingly. “They told me they’d bring me somewhere safe, because Coop was hurt, and this place is nice and all, but I really miss Cooper.”
Sammy nodded. Memories assailed him, memories of being young and of missing his mother so fiercely his whole body hurt. “I’ve missed someone like that before,” he told her gently. “It’s really hard. But you’re here now. You’re safe.” He smiled gently. “We have a refrigerator full of food.”
She blessed him with a small smile.
“So your dad—”
“He’s not my dad, really.” Felicity wrinkled her nose. “He was my foster brother, but he aged out.” She looked away, and he knew enough about kids to recognize an untold truth. “I, uh… well, he offered to take me in. It’s sort of unofficial.”
Sammy nodded, thinking grimly that someone who couldn’t afford drive-thru had probably not offered to care for a young girl—but he probably did because he wanted to.
“So he was in the pictures. How’d he look?”
“He was smiling. He had a bandage on his head and his shoulder and ribs too, but he didn’t look scared.” That thought seemed to cheer her, and her smile grew stronger.
“Good. So he’s going to be okay, you think?”
She nodded and wiped her eyes again. “I hope so. He’s the only one who wants me.”
Sammy let out a sigh. “Now that’s not true. I know you haven’t met them yet, but Keenan and Letty are going to want you until you beg for mercy. They love older kids. You’re going to be better than cookies, trust me.”
Felicity smiled a little. “I miss that,” she said. “About foster homes. All the kids.”
At that moment a herd of elephants thundered down the staircase that led to the bedrooms.
“Well, by the time Cooper gets better, you may long for a little peace and quiet,” Sammy told her, just as Keenan burst in wearing Stormtrooper pajamas with little beads of water still clinging to his tightly buzzed curls.
“Are you coming?” he demanded impatiently. “Steven Universe is new tonight!”
Felicity looked up, her wan face lighting up truly for the first time. “Steven Universe?”
“It’s our favorite,” Letty said, pattering in wearing purple pajamas with pink hearts. Her hair was a wet bird’s nest, spiking all over her head. “Who are you?”
“Guys, this is Felicity. I have the feeling she’s going to be staying with us for a while, and you know what?”
“What?” Letty asked, raising her arms. Sammy swung her up and positioned her on his hip.
“I have another feeling that she’s going to love our nightly routine.”
Felicity was good to her word, getting out her homework from a folder marked Sylvan Middle School. She sat and figured math problems, nibbling on her cookie and looking up occasionally to laugh at Steven Universe.
“Felicity, I’m going to go bring Tino and Channing in so you can get to know them, okay? Keep an eye on the little kids for me.”
She nodded seriously, although “keeping an eye on the little kids” was really not necessary during cartoon time. It didn’t seem to matter—he’d given her cookies and a responsibility, and the girl seemed absolutely intent on getting along.
When he entered the study, Channing was sitting at his desk, Tino stood with his back to the door, and Brandon was making his case earnestly in the middle of the room, hands flailing.
“We didn’t even know he was taking care of this girl. I talked to Taylor, and I guess after he aged out he went back to visit, and she followed him home, hysterical. She was barely nine, and she had to walk across town. When he called the foster family, they didn’t even know she’d gone. The next time she ran away, he just….”
“Kept her,” Tino said softly. “We get it, Brandon. Your employee isn’t a kidnapper—he’s a good guy. But we have other children h
ere. You can’t just expect us to—”
“We can keep her,” Sammy said hurriedly. “She’s nice. I like her.”
Channing turned toward him with raised eyebrows. “Well, aren’t you having a busy day.”
“Don’t be an ass,” Tino muttered and then turned to smile tiredly at Sammy. “Sammy, you can’t just keep a girl—”
“She’s good,” Sammy said a little desperately. “She’s so happy to just sit and do homework with Keenan and Letty—”
“But we don’t know anything about her!” Channing half laughed, as though surprised they were talking about this.
“Well, you didn’t know anything about Keenan and Letty either! You just opened up your home and took care of them!”
“They were babies,” Channing said with desperate gentleness.
Sammy turned to Tino, who had known him when he’d been grief-stricken and angry. “I wasn’t,” he said softly, appealing to the man who’d been hardly a grown-up when he’d stepped in and agreed to parent a hurt little kid. “I wasn’t a baby. And I was….” He half laughed—much like Channing, actually. “I was horrible,” he finished. “I was a nightmare, and my life could have been so awful, but you stepped in, and you were so kind….”
Tino was gazing at him with a faint smile on his face. “You were pretty horrible,” he said, his eyes bright. He turned to Channing, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s meet them, at least,” Tino said, in that tone of voice that Sammy usually associated with him doing business on the phone, when he sounded like a badass.
Channing’s mouth actually dropped open. “You’re not… you can’t be… why would you…?”
“Because,” Tino said, shrugging. “The house is enormous. If my sister can shove a sixth kid in a house half this size, and love it and drive it around in a Honda Odyssey filled to the freaking gills, the least we can do is talk to this girl. Talk to Cooper. See what we have here.” His mouth compressed, and his expression turned puckish. “C’mon, Channing Lowell, you used to go out of your way to convince me you were this guy, remember?”
Channing’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not that cute,” he muttered, like he couldn’t figure out why he was doing this.
Sammy practically jumped on top of Tino in a giant bear hug. “Thank you! Thank you, Uncle Tino! You’re the greatest! You’ll love her! I swear!”
“Weren’t you just asking me for permission to ditch out on your little brother and sister?” Channing asked, throwing his hands up in the air.
Sammy dropped Tino so quickly he stumbled. “Crap.”
“Wait,” Tino said thoughtfully, not even giving Sammy an evil look. “When does your job start?”
“Two weeks.” Oh, come on, Tino, come on. You’re so smart—you can think this through!
“Actually,” Brandon said, voice thoughtful, “two weeks might be perfect.”
All eyes turned to him.
“Cooper will be getting out next week sometime. Give him—” He grimaced. “Forgive me, guys, but if he could recuperate here, with the housekeeper and someone to fix meals and assist him with Felicity, he should be ready to help with kid duties by the time Sammy starts his new job.”
“Didn’t you say he fell off a roof?” Channing asked, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Well, yeah, but once the concussion has healed, it’s bruised ribs and an arm in a sling. Cooper didn’t break any bones—just tore some ligaments. I mean, it’s not permanent. And….” Brandon grimaced again. “He needs to do something else besides work construction.”
“Why?” Sammy asked, curious. Felicity had seemed damned loyal to the guy.
“Well, he’s good at it because he’s smart,” Brandon said with sigh. “But he’s bad at it because he’s not big—and he keeps trying to do big-guy things. He won’t ask for help. It’s something I can’t break him of either.” He shook his head. “Frustrating as hell.”
“So, see?” Sammy said, fighting off the desire to meet this mysterious Cooper. “Once he’s on his feet, I can teach him the routines here. Then, when it’s time for me to work, he can take over as nanny until he figures out something else to do.”
“That’s convenient,” Tino said dryly, and Sammy shot him an unrepentant grin.
“What are you?” Channing asked after a pause. He stood and held his arms out for a hug. “A teacher or a musician?”
Sammy grinned and moved into Channing’s embrace. “Today I’m both,” he said, feeling very proud of himself.
“Yeah, yeah,” Channing muttered, but Sammy had won. It didn’t happen often, but he knew what it sounded like, so he could savor it.
New Worlds
COOPER looked around the humongous house uncertainly.
“Felicity, we’re staying here?”
“Yes!” Felicity was practically dancing as she stood. “Oh my God, Cooper. You should see the rooms! I get….” Her voice lowered to a hush. “I get my own room!”
She looked embarrassed about that but happy too. Cooper swallowed. “Is it nice?”
She grinned. “It’s great! Sammy took me to Target and bought me sheets—new sheets! And a lamp and a beanbag chair. And a comforter. And clothes!” She whirled, showing off new jeans and a sparkly pink top—and flowered tennis shoes. Cooper’s heart constricted for a moment, happy to see her happy and dressed well and excited. He almost missed the thread of what she was saying. “And two big throw pillows shaped like butterflies….” She bit her lip. “Well, those are actually for Letty, because she wanted them, but Sammy said she’d just had her room done, so I asked for them, and now she comes in and sits on my bed and uses them to play dolls. She says she likes my room because Keenan won’t come in because I’m older so I get to say if he can come in or not. But I was in there doing homework, and she came in and played dolls, and Keenan sat and did his homework, so I think they just like to gather.”
“You’re in the house alone?” he asked, alarmed. Brandon had told him she’d be in a big house with other kids, but so far he’d heard all about Keenan and Letty and nothing about any adults.
Felicity shook her head. “No—no. Sammy’s here, and the housekeeper, but we don’t see much of her. Sammy picks us up from school—he gets me first because I get out first, but we have to hurry because it’s so far away.” She smiled again, all sunshine. “But then Tino and Channing said if we all work out, they can move my school closer to here.”
Cooper opened and closed his mouth, and behind him, the door closed as Brandon and Taylor brought in the first load of his stuff. They’d apparently spent the past two days moving him and Felicity completely out of the apartment so Cooper didn’t have to pay rent, and putting the furniture into storage. The sound of the door closing behind Taylor sounded awfully damned final as the close of Cooper’s old life.
“You’re the guide, Felicity,” Brandon said cheerfully. “You need to tell us where to bring Coop’s stuff.”
Felicity looked confused for a minute. “Oh—shoot. Let me ask Sammy.” And then, in that way kids have that’s totally unaware of inside or outside voices, she pivoted on one foot and hollered, “Sammy! Sammy! Brandon has a question!”
Felicity moved deeper into the house, past an entryway that seemed to serve as a playroom and sported a flight of stairs to a higher floor, past a vast kitchen done in blue tile that opened out into a vast patio, and past a dining room that opened out to the same place. She came to a halt at the foot of a flight of stairs that was probably connected by an upstairs hallway to the flight at the entryway and looked up expectantly. Cooper looked up too.
Oh.
The young man who walked down, barefoot, was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt—nothing upscale, nothing expensive. Cooper probably had the same stuff in the garbage bags Brandon was carrying, only a lot more worn.
But Cooper wasn’t really noticing the clothes.
Could this be the much-talked-about Sammy?
He was Cooper’s age, with a squa
re jaw and stunning blue-gray eyes lined with dark lashes and dark rings around the irises. His cheekbones were high and artistic, with bright spots of color stretched over pale skin, and even though his wrists and ankles seemed thin, painfully thin, his mouth—oh, that was soft and plush.
Then he smiled.
Cooper made a noise he couldn’t help.
“You okay, Coop?” Brandon asked, coming alongside.
“Fine,” Cooper said through a dry throat.
Brandon nodded, reassured, and then smiled up at the angel who’d descended the staircase. “Sammy? We were wondering where to put our boy here.”
Sammy did that thing with his mouth again that made Cooper stupid. “Well, we figured he wouldn’t be up to too much going up and down the stairs. Channing and Tino had Gretchen air out Carrie and Hope’s rooms.” He gestured them back toward the kitchen. “They’re sort of tucked next to the kitchen on the other side of the garage. That way you can have some privacy and your own bathroom, and you don’t have to strain your ribs going up and down stairs.”
Cooper made that sound again, and Sammy’s dark brows—a surprise with the blond hair—lowered in concern. “Oh, hey, it sounds like you need the rest already. Here… Felicity, help him back. You know where they are.”
“Yeah,” she said, awed. “Coop, you get the best place—it’s as big as our apartment. I thought they were going to rent it out or something. I had no idea it was for you!”
Cooper swallowed, his throat surprisingly tight. “I… I, uh… rent—”
Sammy waved his hand. “Part of the nanny gig, if you take it.” He grinned quickly. “My uncle Tino lived here too before he and Uncle Channing hooked up. I guess Channing figures you’ll be working so hard with the lot of us you deserve all the perks you can get.”
Cooper stared at him, horrified. “I’m your nanny?”
Sammy’s laughter rang through the house as he led the way back through the kitchen. “Oh my God. No! I’m in college! But it’s sweet of you to offer, really.” He turned to Cooper merrily, and Cooper looked away, mortified.
