by J. A. Little
“For what?”
“Is she for real?” Logan asks, looking at me. I put my hands up, deferring to my sister-in-law.
“I’m just curious.” Emily smiles at him. “Why waste your time and mine if it’s not something you really want to do?”
“I do want to,” Logan protests. “I want to get a car and a phone. Kayla said she could set me up with a bank account and teach me what to do.”
Emily studies him for a few minutes. Logan starts fidgeting. I have no idea why, but he’s different from the kid who walked through our door less than two weeks ago. The problem is that I don’t know him well enough to tell what’s changed. I’ll have to talk to Kayla, see if I’m right.
She has to talk to me when it comes to the kids, right? This is exactly why I can’t get involved with her.
“Okay. What do you want to do?” Emily finally says, pulling a resource binder from the bookshelf behind her.
“I don’t want to work at McDonald’s,” he says quickly.
“What’s wrong with McDonald’s?” Emily frowns. I laugh quietly. That was Emily’s first job when she turned sixteen. Logan fixes his gaze on her.
“How am I supposed to buy a car making eight bucks an hour?”
Logan’s not likely to get much higher than minimum wage for his first job. But if he ends up doing something he likes, he’ll be more likely to stick with it.
“All right. What are you good at?”
“I’m good with my hands. Or so I’ve been told.” He snickers. I cover my mouth to hide my laugh. So he’s not that different.
“Dean, if you can’t encourage him to take this seriously, then you can go,” Emily says, unamused. I stay for another ten minutes while Emily and Logan go over some options, but I’m not going to sit around while she makes phone calls. I have too much shit to do.
Curtis’s social worker stops by about an hour later. I think I’ve gotten spoiled in such a short period of time; I’ve almost forgotten that not every social worker is like Kayla. Curtis sits uncomfortably on the couch while his worker asks stiff questions and writes down what he says in a notebook. There’s no real interaction between the two and no bond. It’s kind of sad. She’s here and gone in ten minutes flat.
At dinner, Logan’s excited. Emily was able to talk to a friend of a friend who owns an imported auto garage not too far away. They’re willing to take Logan on in a sort of training role. He’ll work twenty hours a week and make a pretty decent hourly rate—more than he’d be making at McDonald’s—with the possibility of a really good career.
Aiden’s on overnight duty tonight. I drive back to my apartment, pick up a six-pack of beer on the way, and drink it while watching the Maple Leafs play the Red Wings. I pass out on my couch before midnight.
I’m on edge again all Tuesday morning. My slight hangover and sore back along with the fact that Kayla’s supposed to be coming by at two o’clock make my need for a fucking huge coffee critical. I run a few errands before heading to the house, but my mind is so fucked up that I end up forgetting to pick up the one thing I really need—caffeine.
When I get to the house, I walk in on Emily sitting in my brother’s lap, sucking on his neck. I can’t get upset, though. As irritating as it is to see all that lovey-dovey bullshit, I did fuck up his chance of getting laid last weekend. I ignore them and disappear into my office.
I have no idea how long I actually sit there, but my growling stomach tells me that it has to be close to lunch.
“Dean, you’ve got a call on line one,” Emily calls over the intercom.
I pick up the phone. “This is Dean Wyatt.”
“Hi, this is Sara Dravin with DHS. I’m calling on behalf of Kayla Brooks.”
My empty stomach churns violently. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. She was called in for an emergency hearing and won’t be able to make her appointment this afternoon.”
I try hard to mask my disappointment. It doesn’t work. “Will she call to reschedule?” I ask rudely.
Sara is quiet on the line for a second before answering. “I’m sure she will, Mr. Wyatt.”
“Uh, good. Will you let Kayla know that if I’m not in the office, she can call me on my cell?” I ask. “She should have the number.”
“I will. Have a great day.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I respond automatically before hanging up. I slam my fist down on my desk, scattering shit everywhere. I know she has to go if it’s an emergency hearing, but I can’t help but feel like she’s avoiding me.
* * *
The rest of the week passes without a phone call. Matty tells me that Kayla visited them at school, which confirms that I was right. She is avoiding me.
Aiden, Emily, and I conduct the first of the interviews together. We all have to work with and trust this person. We each have our own way of reading the applicants, and it’s nice to be able to confer about them. Out of the six initial interviews, two make it into final consideration. We’ve got nine more to go. Our goal is to narrow it down to five really strong candidates, but I have my doubts. Even the two good ones weren’t all that impressive.
On Friday afternoon, before the kids come home from school, Emily catches me playing Call of Duty in the den. She flops herself down unceremoniously onto the couch next to me. She doesn’t talk at first, just watches me. I can tell she wants to, though. I pause my game and turn to face her.
“What?”
Her lips are pursed together, and she’s breathing through her nose.
“Seriously, Emily, whatever it is, just spit it out or let me get back to my game.”
“I invited Kayla over to the house for Ashley’s birthday party tomorrow,” she tells me. I open my mouth to respond, but she stops me. “I get that, for whatever reason, you have some sort of problem with her, but I like her. Please, please, just show up and wish your niece a happy birthday. She adores you, and if you don’t come because you don’t want to be around Kayla, you will break her heart.”
I let my head fall backward onto the couch. “Can I talk now?”
“I don’t know. What are you going to say?”
I laugh. “I’ll be there, Em. I wouldn’t miss Ash’s birthday for anything.”
“Good,” she breathes out. “You won’t cause any problems with Kayla?” I shake my head slowly, rolling my neck back and forth against the cushion.
“Nope. I will be on my best behavior. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Saturday morning, the house is like a graveyard. Brayden, Logan, and Jax all went out last night, and Logan and Brayden are now on restriction for the rest of the weekend for coming in after curfew. Jax is on restriction all week for being tanked on top of being late.
After I work out, I make myself an omelet, then drink my coffee and eat breakfast by myself. Sometimes I enjoy the solitude, but this morning I don’t. My mind is racing, and I can’t make it stop. I think about Kayla, the interviews, Kayla, my niece’s party, Kayla, the boys, Kayla. Fortunately, Tracey comes to my rescue at eight o’clock. I fill her in on what happened the night before and stand up.
“I’m gonna wake Jax up before I go and make sure he feels the full effect of the monster hangover I’m sure he’ll have.”
Tracey laughs, but I know there’s worry behind it. I put my arm around her and squeeze her shoulder.
“I have to let them make their own mistakes, T. They’re kids, not criminals,” I say although it’s not entirely true. More than half of the current residents have some sort of juvenile record, but I know that if I try to come down on them too hard, it will end in disaster. These kids need stability and rules, but they also need to know they won’t get beaten or kicked out if they break them. Jax pushes all sorts of boundaries all the time. He’s been here three years and I still don’t know if he’s convinced that nothing he does will make me hit him. Aiden and I have had several runaways over the last few years, kids who just couldn’t process t
he rules or believe that someone would care enough to enforce them. My dad says it’s just part of this life. You can’t force these kids to conform, and sometimes you just have to let go.
“I know. I just don’t want to see them get hurt—or go to jail. I don’t think there’s a court in the state of Minnesota that will look at those boys’ records and be any kind of lenient. You’re lucky you were a good kid from a good family.” My whole body instantly goes rigid. She gasps when she realizes what she’s said. “Oh, Dean. I didn’t mean—oh, shit! I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay.” I clear my throat. “Uh, Emily made up a new chore list yesterday. I think it’s in her office. On her desk?”
“I’ll find it,” she whispers, her voice laced with regret. If it were anyone else I’d probably be upset, but Tracey doesn’t say shit like that on purpose. She didn’t say it to hurt me or to prove a point; she said it because it’s true. I was a stupid kid, but I was a stupid kid from a well-known family who’d never been in trouble. Put most of these boys in my place, and the outcome would have been much worse.
“I’m going to take a shower and get ready.”
I make good on my promise to wake Jax up before I go. This week will be rough for him. No friends, no girlfriend. School, work, home. The threat of adding another weekend to his punishment is enough for him to finally roll out of bed with a grunt and a few profanities directed at me. I make him head downstairs in front of me so he doesn’t go back to bed. Tracey hands him a big glass of water and an Advil before scolding him, and I shoot back to my office, grabbing my gift for Ashley before I head out.
My parents are already at Emily and Aiden’s when I get there just after ten o’clock. I’ve dressed appropriately this time. Well, as appropriately as I can manage, which is a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. I have my hat on because I couldn’t be bothered to tame my hair, but there’s no ink showing other than on my hands, so my mother should be pleased.
I can tell right away that she helped with the party. I guess the theme is “under the sea,” because there are blue streamers and paper fish hanging from the ceiling. There are trays of cheese, crackers, vegetables, and about ten different dips and spreads. There’s also a big turtle made out of a watermelon with what look like berries inside.
“What is that?” I ask my brother.
“It’s a turtle.”
“I figured that much out, asshole,” I laugh.
“Mom called it a ‘fruit sculpture.’“
“Huh.” I look over at him. He shrugs before grabbing a strawberry and popping it in his mouth.
“Uncle Dean!”
I turn just as Ashley flings herself at me. I lift her up, and she wraps her arms around my neck, nearly strangling me. I make a big show of gasping for air, making her giggle. Ashley’s facial features are so much like my mother’s, but she’s got Emily’s blond hair and blue eyes and little freckles all over her nose.
“Happy birthday, munchkin,” I say, kissing her cheek.
“Guess what?”
“What?”
“Mama painted my fingernails and toenails.”
“She did? Let me see.”
Ashley holds out her hands and then her feet for me to inspect before wiggling out of my arms to join her friends, who are beginning to arrive. Apparently her favorite uncle can only hold her interest for so long.
I make myself at home, acutely aware that someone is missing but pretending I don’t care. Every time the doorbell rings I listen without looking to figure out who it is. Finally I give up, focusing on my nephew, Caleb, who’s slowly eating a sucker and is covered in red, sticky goo.
“Kayla,” Emily calls. “I’m so happy you guys could come.”
My head snaps up. You guys? I can’t hear the rest of their greeting, but Kayla’s voice is clear as they enter the room. Caleb’s on my lap so I have to shift him to turn, but when I do, I wish I hadn’t.
There’s a tall, dark guy standing behind Kayla, pulling her coat down her arms. He looks familiar, but I have no idea where I’ve seen him before. She turns and smiles up at him. I feel a heaviness in the pit of my stomach and start to get irrationally pissed off. All the flirting, all the touching, and then she has the guts to walk into my family’s house with her boyfriend, knowing I’m gonna be here. I wonder if he knows she’s a tease. Did she tell him what happened last weekend? Did she tell him just how close she came to kissing me? I feel her gaze on me. I don’t want to look at her, but I can’t help it. I set my nephew on the floor and stand.
“Hi,” she says, smiling lightly.
“Hi,” I grunt. Her smile fades, which makes me feel like an asshole.
“Um, so, Dean, this is my little sister, Claire.”
I glance at the teenage girl standing next to Kayla. They don’t look anything alike, except maybe their noses. I can see why this girl drew Logan’s attention, though. Unfortunately, she looks innocent. I think he’d eat her alive.
“Nice to meet you, Claire.”
“You, too,” she says, lowering her head shyly.
The guy Kayla brought with her shoves out his hand. “Andy Hanson.” Fuck, that’s how I know him. The name registers instantly. He’s a kids’ lawyer; he’s definitely dealt with some of the Wyatt House boys. “I’m Kayla’s brother.”
I grab his hand and shake it firmly. His grip is tight and his eyes are narrowed, like he knows I’ve had dirty thoughts about his… Wait—sister?
Chapter 15
Kayla
I watch as my brother and Dean size each other up and roll my eyes. Andy has done this crap with every single guy I’ve dated for the last ten years. It’s ridiculous. And completely unnecessary—I’m not dating Dean.
“Dean Wyatt. We’ve met before, right?”
Andy nods. “Yeah. I’m a youth attorney for the state. I’ve had a couple of kids placed at Wyatt House.”
“Aiden usually deals with the legal aspect, but I remember you.”
“Andy!” Aiden calls, walking toward us and sticking out his hand. “I had no idea you were Kayla’s brother, but the resemblance is uncanny when you’re standing next to each other,” he teases.
Andy laughs loudly. We aren’t related by blood and couldn’t look more unalike. My stepmother, Karen, is half Japanese, and Andy’s dad was African American. Aiden leans in to kiss my cheek.
“Hello, lady.”
“Hi, Aiden. This is my little sister, Claire.”
“Again, the resemblance.”
“Shut up,” I laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Andy’s mom is married to my dad. Claire and I have the same mom, but different dads.”
“Nice to meet you, Claire.” Aiden winks at her and her cheeks flush a deep red. He and Andy start talking about something or other, and I turn back to face Dean, but he’s disappeared.
“Let me get you guys something to drink. What would you like? We have soda, water, beer, wine… Or do you want a juice box?” Emily asks, obviously teasing my sister.
Claire laughs quietly. “Just some water, thank you.”
“Of course. Kayla?”
“A beer would be great, thanks.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute. Make yourselves comfortable. There’s food on the table.”
I scan the room again, trying to determine where Dean has gone. I feel like I should apologize. I shouldn’t have let things go where they went last weekend. I wanted him, and I wanted him to want me. When he pulled away, I got upset and frustrated by his constantly shifting moods. Regardless, I should have been more professional this week. I need Matty to trust him, and I’m going to be an integral part of building that relationship. It’s important for us to be able to work together.
Before I’m able to find him, Emily returns with our drinks. She leads Claire and me around, introducing us to people. We meet her parents, who seem really nice, and then are introduced to Ashley and Caleb. But they’re not interested in me.
“Do you want to see my new dolly?” Ashley asks C
laire excitedly. “Uncle Dean bought it for me. It looks just like me.”
“Um, sure?” Claire responds, glancing at me as Ashley pulls her toward the stairs. When they disappear, I turn to face Emily.
“How did he find a doll that looked like her?”
“He went to a doll shop and took a picture of Ash with him. They customized it.”
I can’t help but laugh as I think of Dean picking out a doll for his niece. I can only imagine how the doll shop employees must have reacted to him.
“She has him wrapped around her little finger,” Emily says softly. “I remember the first time he held her—this big, tattooed man holding a tiny little pink bundle.” I smile at the image she’s just given me. “Aiden took a picture. Dean has it somewhere.” She’s looking across the room. I follow her gaze and see Dean sitting on the couch, drinking a Coke. Andy and Aiden are next to him, and I can’t tell if he’s a part of their conversation or not because he’s looking down into his lap. As if sensing my gaze, his eyes flicker upward, meeting mine for a brief moment before they return to his hands.
“I’d love to see that,” I whisper.
Emily doesn’t say anything more about it because we’re suddenly in the presence of what can only be Dean and Aiden’s parents.
“Joe, Maria, this is Kayla. Kayla, these are my in-laws, Joe and Maria Wyatt.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say politely, extending my hand. Joe smiles at me, shaking it.
“You’re the social worker.”
“Well, I’m not sure about the social worker, but I am a social worker,” I tease.
Joe chuckles. “Yes, well, from what I’ve heard you’re a very good one, so we might just have to stick with the.”
I wonder who’s been discussing me and why, but then I remember that Joe used to run Wyatt House and is still very active in its interests. Of course he would know about Logan and Matty and, in turn, me. I turn toward Maria. She’s looking at me oddly. I have no idea how to read her. It’s reminiscent of how I feel when I’m dealing with Dean. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Joe’s hand squeeze his wife’s hip.
