by J. A. Little
“Sure I can. Give me your notes. I’ll follow them word-for-word.” I glare at Sara. “Or not,” she laughs. “I just thought maybe you’d like a break from Wyatt House since you’ve been there three times in the last week.”
I put my thumbnail into my mouth, finally looking up at my friend. The look in her eyes tells me she’s suspicious.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. “I just don’t want to drive all the way to Duluth again. It’s an entire day.”
“I’ve taken over your IL sessions before.”
“Yeah.”
“So, why not this one?”
I take a deep, annoyed breath, but don’t answer her. She watches me for a minute before shrugging.
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Drive safely.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I will.”
* * *
Two hours into my traffic-filled drive, I stop to get gas and my third cup of coffee. I’d been holding onto the slight chance that I might finish and get back in time to make it to my appointment with Logan, but I need to admit that there’s no way it’s going to happen. I need to call and cancel.
“Wyatt House, how can I help you?”
“Hey, Emily, it’s Kayla.”
“Hi, Kayla. How are you?” she greets. “I hear you are capable of amazing things, my friend.”
I laugh. “Oh really? Who told you that?”
“My husband came home singing your praises. He was very impressed. What can I do for you today?”
“Well, that’s always nice to hear,” I say, smiling to myself. “I won’t be able to make my Independent Living session with Logan this afternoon. I’m heading up to Duluth for an emergency meeting.”
I can hear papers rustling in the background and then Emily responds. “Oh, okay. Do you want to reschedule?”
I try to remember my schedule for the rest of the week. Things are going to be all messed up because of this surprise trip.
“I have Thursday afternoon free, but I’m on call. Can someone bring him to my office?”
“Yeah, of course. They should be home from school around three. What time were you thinking?”
“Anytime after that is fine, preferably before five. I really appreciate it, Emily.”
“My pleasure,” she says warmly. “I wanted to ask you something, though.” The gas pump clicks, letting me know the tank is full. I wait for her to continue as I finish up and climb into the car. “I was hoping that maybe you’d like to grab a cup of coffee with me this weekend.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t usually socialize with my foster parents outside of work. Not because I don’t want to, but because it would be weird. But Emily isn’t really one of my foster parents, is she? I must take too long to contemplate, because Emily speaks again.
“Kayla? Are you still there?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Um, sure, that sounds like fun. Where?”
“My daughter’s birthday is coming up, and I was going to do some shopping. How about Mall of America? The Starbucks on level one? Around ten o’clock?”
“That sounds great. I’ll see you there.”
I hang up and pull back onto I-35. Well, this will be a first for me, but I’m excited. Emily Wyatt seems really nice. I can’t wait to get to know her better. And maybe I’ll be able to get a little bit of info on that brother-in-law of hers as well.
* * *
I don’t end up getting back home until almost eight o’clock. All I want to do is fall into bed, but Andy informs me that Claire is at a friend’s house studying, and I need to go pick her up.
“You couldn’t have called to tell me that half an hour ago when I was still on the road?” I groan, irritated and desperately shoving anything I can find into my mouth. I’ve barely eaten today, and I’m starving.
“Sorry,” my brother mutters without looking up from his computer. “I was working and lost track of time. I’ve got a trial tomorrow that I’m not ready for.”
I sigh heavily, grab my purse, and turn back toward the door.
When I get to the address Andy provided, I pull up in front of a massive estate. Taking out my phone, I start to text Claire that I’m outside, but before I get a chance to hit SEND, I look up to see my little sister running from the house. When she reaches the car, I know right away that something’s wrong. Her eyes are red and there are tear tracks staining her cheeks.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just go, please.” She sniffles. I start to drive, but I’m not about to let it slide. Claire buckles her seat belt and turns to face the window. After a couple minutes, I ask her again.
“Claire, what happened?”
“It’s stupid,” she says, her voice faltering.
“I don’t care if it’s stupid. I still want to know,” I insist. She wipes her eyes with her fingertips and sniffles again.
“I told Lily a week ago that I kind of liked this guy, Harrison. He’s a senior and really cute.” She stops and takes a few breaths. Ah, this is about a boy.
“Okay?” I urge.
“So she invited him to the study session tonight, and I thought she did it for me.” I narrow my eyes. There’s only one way this can go. “They went to get some drinks and snacks from the kitchen, and they were taking a long time, so I went to find them.” I grimace, knowing exactly what’s coming. “I didn’t even see them, but I could hear them in the pantry. They were totally going at it,” she whimpered. My heart is breaking for my little sister. It seemed so trivial, but, when you’re sixteen, it’s everything. “I mean, it’s not like he was my boyfriend or anything, but she knew I liked him. How could she do that to me?”
“I don’t know, sweetie,” I sigh. “Sometimes it’s things like this that tell us who our real friends are.”
“I’ve been going to school with Lily since I was five, Kayla. If she’s not a real friend, then who is?”
I don’t have any answers for her. I wish I did.
Getting back to my house, Claire goes straight to her room. Andy hasn’t moved from his spot, but he does look up. I flop down on the couch next to him and put my head on his shoulder.
“What’s the matter with Claire?”
“Teenage girl stuff.”
“Ah.”
“What do I do?”
“Uh…I don’t know. Listen. Support. And then I guess you let her figure it out by herself?”
“That’s the advice you’ve got for me? That’s kinda lame.”
“I’m a guy, Kay. I don’t know anything.”
I laugh. “True. We need to find you a good woman, Andy.”
All he does is hum.
* * *
The next few days are mostly me playing catch-up. I do a few visits, but spend a lot of time in my office working on six-month reports and adoption paperwork, returning phone calls, dodging other phone calls, and writing safety assessments.
By Thursday afternoon, I’m finally all caught up on everything. At ten minutes ‘til four, I get called to the front. Logan is emptying his pockets so he can go through the metal detector. Dean is standing next to him. He’s dressed in layers—a white Henley, red hoodie, and a black coat. He’s wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and his blue Docs. His jaw is covered in a slight scruff, and he’s got a black knit hat covering his head. I’m not the only one who notices how mouthwatering he looks. He’s garnered the attention of most of the women in the waiting room. He tugs at his cuff, allowing a sliver of ink to show.
“Hi, guys,” I smile, trying really hard to focus on my kid rather than his guardian.
“Hi,” Logan grumbles.
“Ms. Brooks.” Dean nods. He has a sexy little smirk on his face that makes me want to lick him. I wonder what he’d do if I just ran my tongue across his face. He reaches out his hand. I look at him oddly, because he’s never done that before, but I don’t want to be rude. I put my hand in his, and my heart speeds up significantly. My body warms at his touch.
I glance down. Once again, the Xs on his knuckles grab my attention. Maybe someday I’ll ask him the story behind them.
When I look back up, Dean’s green eyes seem intent on reading mine. He’s still clasping my hand and staring. I stare right back. I let go, though, when Logan gets through the metal detector and turns around.
“We should be done by five. I’ll drop him off on my way home,” I say softly.
“Sounds good.” We’re just about to go through the door to the offices when he calls from behind me. “Kayla?”
I turn around curiously and raise my eyebrows at him when he curls his finger, beckoning me back. My stomach tightens. I stay on my side of the front desk as he leans over, his breath on my cheek.
“We need to talk about Matty,” he whispers.
“Yes, we do,” I whisper back. I have the urge to turn my head so that I can feel his lips against my skin, but, thankfully, I’m aware of where we are. We’re being watched not only by our security guard, but also by other visitors and security cameras. I force myself to lean back a little. “I’ll talk to Matty when I drop Logan off. If he’s up for it, then maybe next week you and I can figure out where to start.”
Logan starts whistling loudly. It’s one of those I’m-impatient-and-you’re-being-too-slow types of whistles. Dean chuckles when I purse my lips.
“I’ll see you later.” I smile.
We’re not even ten minutes into our session when I realize I’ve already lost Logan. He doesn’t give a shit, and he’s not paying attention.
“What do I need a job for? You guys pay for all my food and clothes.” When I don’t say anything, he keeps going. “I just don’t see the point.”
“The point is, how are you going to support yourself when you age out?”
“Welfare.”
“You don’t qualify for welfare. You’re a young, single male without children. You’re perfectly capable of getting a job.”
“Excellent. Guess I’ll have to go spread my seed, then,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
“Logan, be serious. This is not a game.”
“It is a fucking game, Kayla. It’s all about how to work the system. Everybody knows that.”
I’m so frustrated with this boy right now, I could scream.
“What about college?” I offer.
“What about it? What school is gonna let a guy like me in?”
“A guy like you? Logan, if you put any effort into your education, you could be top of your class. Colleges would be scrambling over you.”
“Yeah, right.”
I grit my teeth together to keep from screaming at him…or wringing his neck.
“Hey, look who I found out front,” Sara sings, coming into the room. Behind her trails my little sister.
“Oh, crap. I didn’t realize you were in the middle of a session.” Sara grimaces as Logan whips his head around. Claire stands with her bag slung over her shoulder, her phone in her hands. She’s texting and not even looking up. Her phone beeps, and she laughs before lifting her head.
“Hi,” she chirps.
“What are you doing here?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but then her attention is diverted. She’s staring. Really staring. Not at me—at Logan. He’s staring, too. Shit. Houston, we have a big freaking problem. I have to get Claire out of here because Logan looks like he’s about to pounce. Sara starts giggling. This is so not funny.
“Hey, Sara. Can you please take Claire to the cafeteria and get her something to drink?” I’m begging her with my eyes as she grins at me.
“Sure,” she squeaks, trying not to bust out laughing.
“But I’m not thirsty,” Claire protests, still staring at Logan.
“Yes, you are.”
“But—”
“Come on, Claire. Let me show you the quality eating area that the state of Minnesota has built for us,” Sara says cheerily, grabbing my sister’s hand and pulling her out of the room.
“Who was that?” Logan asks the minute they’re out of sight.
“Nobody,” I grumble.
“She was not nobody, Kayla. Holy shit. Is she another one of your cases? Can Matty and I be placed with her foster parents? I promise I’ll be good.” I think he’s actually serious.
“First off, no, she’s not one of my cases. Second, I want you to forget you even saw her.” Now he’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly. Now focus so we can be done.”
“I can’t focus now,” he scoffs.
“Then you need to go home.”
Logan takes a few breaths through his nose. “Okay, fine. But lemme go to the bathroom first. Then maybe I can focus again.”
“Fine. Whatever you need to do, but hurry up.”
He pops up with a cheeky grin and strolls out of the room. A few minutes later, Warren appears in the office with his earbuds in. His head is bobbing and his shoulders moving to whatever beat he’s listening to.
“Hey, mami,” he shouts, obviously not aware of how loud he’s talking. “How come Logan Davidson’s chatting up your little sis in the caf?”
“What?” I yelp, jumping out of my chair and hitting my knee on my desk. “Ouch! Shit. Ow, ow, ow.” But the pain is nothing compared to the panic I’m feeling at the moment. I rush past a confused Warren and down the hallway to the cafeteria.
“Logan!” I shout across the room. He turns to look at me and at least has the decency to look guilty. I throw my hands up, completely frustrated. “Bathroom?”
“I went,” he defends. I glare at him. “I went to that one,” he says, pointing to the men’s room in the cafeteria.
“The one across the hallway was too crowded?” Out of the two hundred people in this building, there are less than two-dozen men. There’s no way the men’s room was busy.
Logan’s nose wrinkles, and he leans down. “It smelled like shit,” he whispers. Claire giggles. This is where I’m reminded that my gorgeous, virgin baby sister has just been introduced to the biggest teenage playboy this side of the Mississippi.
“My office. Now!”
What he does next makes me want to cry. He turns, grabs Claire’s hand, and kisses her knuckles.
“It was nice to meet you, Claire Graeme.” He smiles widely, putting his dimples on full display. I think Claire’s going to spontaneously combust. Her face is tinged pink, and she pulls her hand close to her body once Logan lets it go, rubbing the place where his lips were. Oh, shit.
Logan’s swagger as he walks away tells me what’s on his mind. I turn to face my sister, who’s still rubbing her hand.
“No.”
“No?”
“Don’t even think about it. Don’t even think about him.”
“I…” Her mouth curves up into a tiny smile.
“Claire, I’m serious, honey. You have no idea.”
“Come on, Kayla,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He was just flirting. I know I’m not his type, okay?”
I try to remember being sixteen. I wasn’t nearly as naive as my sister, but I still reacted the same way when a cute boy paid me a little bit of attention. Except none of the boys that I went to school with were ever as smooth as Logan Davidson.
Claire’s face has fallen a little, and I can’t help but feel bad. There’s no way I can let this happen, though.
“What did you need, sweetie? I have to go back to work.”
“Nothing. I just had the afternoon free and thought I’d come by and see you. I took the bus,” she adds with a slight smile. Richard would have a shit fit if he found out his daughter rode public transportation.
“I wish I could take some time, but I really have to finish up with…”
“Logan?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay. I’ll see you tonight. Maybe I can stop by here next week? We can grab some coffee or something?”
“Sure.” I smile. My best friend appears in the doorway with her purse and
keys in hand. She looks stressed out. “Sara, you left her here on her own?”
“I got paged to Mr. Fallon’s office. I didn’t think it was a good idea to bring her back so I told her to stay here. Why? What happened?”
“Nothing. Do you need a ride home?” I ask Claire.
“No.”
“I’m heading out, Claire. I can give you a ride home if you want,” Sara offers.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“I’ll see you at home.” I hug my sister tightly and send her out with Sara.
Making my way back to my office, I sigh in relief. At least Claire is leaving the building. My relief is short-lived, however.
“Your baby sister, huh?” Logan asks as I enter my office. I look at Warren incredulously.
“Sorry, chica. I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.” I sit back down at my desk.
“Are you ready to talk about this seriously now?”
Surprisingly, Logan nods. “So, what do I need to do to get a job?”
Chapter 11
Kayla
When Logan and I arrive at Wyatt house after our session, I find Matty sitting in the front room by himself doing his homework.
“Hey,” I greet. “Can I talk to you?” He looks up at me expectantly and nods, so I continue. “How would you feel if I helped someone else learn to guide you through your attacks?”
“Someone like who?” he asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. We’ve tried this before, more than once. My silence tells him what he needs to know. “No,” he says flatly. “I can’t.”
“Matty, please. What will happen if I can’t get to you?”
“Tell them to leave me. I’ll get over it.”
“You know that’s not going to happen.”
“Please, Kayla,” he begs, his voice wavering slightly. “Don’t make me.”
I clench my jaw. I hate this. I hate seeing this look on his face. I’m not going to push him. Not yet.
“All right. Just promise me one thing.” He wrinkles his nose, making himself look just like he did when he was eight. It reminds me of how young he still is, and I laugh a little. “I’m serious. Promise me you’ll try to get to know the Wyatts—at least try to trust them.”
