by J. A. Little
Kayla stops what she’s doing. “You’d have people to help you, Dean. Your mom, your dad, me. Everyone needs help once in awhile.”
“What if they don’t deserve help? Like they’ve really fucked up somehow.” I’m not talking about myself anymore. Kayla doesn’t know that, though.
“I guess it depends. I think most people deserve a second chance. People make mistakes. They get caught up in things they don’t understand and can’t control, and they get lost. Sometimes, they just need someone to help them find their way again.”
I feel like shit. Would she feel the same way if I told her the truth about Stephanie? I guess there’s only one way to find out.
“I need to tell you something,” I say solemnly. I open my mouth to spill about Steph but stop when we hear a loud wailing come from upstairs.
“Oh, shit. He’s gonna wake Ashley.” Kayla jumps up and bolts, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Goddammit,” I growl, frustrated.
I wait for her to come back down, going over what I want to say in my head. Do I just open with, “So, hey, you remember me talking about my ex-wife? The one who cheated and lied and did a whole bunch of other shit? Well, her kids got taken by one of your coworkers, and I’m letting her stay at my apartment so she can get them back.” I don’t think that’s going to fly.
I try a few other scenarios, but not a single one sounds like something Kayla wouldn’t dump me on my ass for. I should have talked to her earlier. Now I have no idea how to do it.
After about half an hour inside my own head, I get impatient and go to find Kayla. She’s fast asleep in Caleb’s tiny twin bed with him wrapped in her arms. I sigh heavily and debate for a few minutes whether to wake her. I decide not to risk waking up Caleb and head to the guest room.
I wake up to freezing cold toes hitting my calves. The room is pitch-black. There’s only one person it could be, so I turn over and throw my arm around her shivering body. Within minutes, I fall back asleep.
Caleb must have gotten up again during the night and made his way into the guest room, because I’m woken up at the ass-crack of dawn by his giggle. I open my eyes to see Kayla poking him in the stomach like he’s the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
I don’t get a chance to talk to her again privately, but part of me is glad. I think I’ve psyched myself out of it now, anyway. I tell myself it isn’t that big of a deal, that I’m not actually going out of my way for Steph. I don’t give a shit about the apartment or anything in there. It’s a piss-poor argument, but I’ll stick to it for now.
Emily and Aiden come home as I’m loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and Kayla is getting Caleb dressed.
“Any problems?” Aiden asks.
“Nope.”
“Caleb?” Emily grimaces.
“He ended up in bed with us, but it was fine,” Kayla says, entering the room with said child in her arms.
“Mommy!” he cheers, wiggling out of Kayla’s grasp and running to Emily.
“Did you guys have a nice night?”
I watch Emily’s cheeks turn bright red as she nods, and a sly smirk passes over my brother’s face. I shoot Kayla a look, pleading for her to not ask any more questions. She smiles at me and, thank God, moves on to tell them about our night.
We leave about an hour later. Kayla spends the whole drive to her house texting. When we pull into her driveway, she finally sets her phone down.
“Everything okay?”
She huffs. “I’m trying to nail Claire down so I can talk to her about what’s going on with her. She called me frantic a few days ago and said she lost the necklace I gave her for her birthday, but between my trip and her having finals last week, we haven’t had a chance to really talk. She’s been acting odd lately. I’m getting a little worried.”
I don’t know what to say. Kayla mentioned to me that Claire had suggested that their mom was being abused. Now she’s trying to determine if it’s true. I said she needed to call the cops or CPS and let them figure it out, but that made her mad, so I shut my mouth and let her do things her way.
“What are you going to do?”
She shakes her head and leans over to kiss me. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 49
Dean
“Brayden! Where’s my dock?” I yell up the stairs.
“What dock?” I hear his muffled voice ask. I’m not sure where he is, so I climb a few steps and keep talking.
“My iPod dock. The one I keep in the kitchen.”
“Oh. It’s in the car. I borrowed it so Caity and I could have some mood music during…our picnic yesterday.”
“Well, go get it!”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m in the shitter. I might be here awhile.”
I shake my head and groan. “Fine. I’m going to get it.”
“Okay,” he yells. I grab the spare keys from my office and head outside. The dock’s easy to find. It’s lying on the floor of the passenger side. I pick it up, but the cord is stuck on something. I yank a couple of times, but it doesn’t move. Reaching under the seat, I try to figure out what it’s caught on. Instead, my fingers graze something cold. I pull it out and dangle a chain in front of my face. The charm on the end swings back and forth lazily, keeping me from focusing on it at first, but when I do, my mouth drops.
“What the hell?”
I look at it more closely. There’s no denying what I’m seeing. It’s the same necklace Kayla chose for her little sister’s birthday a month ago—the custom necklace. There has to be some explanation… There are only two people allowed to drive this car: Brayden and Logan.
Logan.
The dots connect one after the other until the full picture is staring me in the face. Logan and Claire. How did I not see it?
“Motherfucker,” I breathe, slamming my fist against the glove box. I close my fingers tightly around the metal and storm back into the house, forgetting about the dock.
“Logan!” I shout. “Logan!”
“What?” he asks, popping his head out of the den.
“My office. Now!”
Tracey comes out of the kitchen and into the hallway, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?” she asks. I shake my head angrily.
Throwing open my door, I sit down at my desk and wait. Two minutes feels like ten. Logan appears, looking unsure—my harsh tone obviously clued him in that something is wrong.
“Shut the door.”
“What did I do now?”
“You tell me.”
He shrugs. “You got me, man.” I hold out the necklace. He stares at it for a second, and I watch recognition appear in his eyes. “Where the hell did you get that?” he asks.
“The car,” I say, trying to control my agitation.
“My car?”
“Wyatt House car.”
“Oh, nice. My girl’s been going crazy looking for that thing. I didn’t even think to look in that car. Thanks.”
“Claire?” I ask when he reaches out for it.
“What?” The color drains from his cheeks.
“Your girl. Claire Graeme.” Logan takes a step back. His jaw tightens; his eyes harden. “Kayla’s sister,” I continue. I’m not going to beat around the bush or play games.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he says, shrugging and shaking his head.
“Don’t lie, Logan,” I grit out. “All you want to do is marry Claire and move on with your life?” I repeat the words he said the night of his meltdown, which I’ve just remembered. Logan opens his mouth and then closes it again. “Yeah, it didn’t click back then. I didn’t even think to ask because it didn’t seem that important in the grand scheme of things. Now it all makes sense.” There’s a long moment when Logan and I just stare at each other, neither one of us willing to give in, but then his resolve begins to waver, and he starts fidgeting.
“When did it start?” I ask.
�
�I don’t know. A long time ago.”
“How long?”
He rolls his eyes back, and then smirks a little. “The first day I met her—at Kayla’s office that day you took me there to start my Independent Living shit.” The little bastard is actually proud of himself. And Kayla’s going to fucking kill me. I’ve been practically condoning him screwing her little sister for months. I run my hand over my face. “Are you gonna tell Kayla?” he asks. His voice seems strong, but I can hear a slight waver.
“No, this is something you need to tell her.”
“No way!” he laughs humorlessly. “She’ll kill me.”
“You didn’t think about that before you made your move?”
“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he insists.
“Then what did you intend to happen? You had to have known that pursuing her would get you into trouble. You’re not stupid, Logan. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking. It just happened!” he shouts. “I didn’t realize I’d fall in love with her! I didn’t realize…” He stops, taking a second to reign in his emotions.
“How long did you think you’d be able to keep her a secret? Does she mean so little to you that you were okay with hiding her away?”
“No! She means everything to me.”
“Then you need to tell Kayla.”
“I don’t… I’m not ready.” His facade is starting to crumble, the panic showing through. “Give me a few more weeks.”
“What’s happening in a few more weeks?” I ask suspiciously.
“Graduation,” he says as though the answer is obvious. I don’t buy it for a second.
“You turn eighteen in one week, Logan. She’s still a minor. You take her over state lines, and you’re going to jail. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I get it. Yeah.”
“Do you? Because if you make that choice, there’s nothing Kayla and I can do to help you.”
“I get it!” he insists. Again, we sit in silence.
“I’m gonna give you a day to figure out how you want to tell her.” He rolls his eyes again and folds his arms across his chest. “You’re an adult now, Logan. Taking responsibility for your actions is part of that.”
“Whatever. Can I go now?” he grumbles. I wave him away. The second he’s gone, I sink my head onto my desk. This is not good. Kayla is the most understanding, patient person I have ever met, and I know she loves Logan, but she’s not going to be happy about this.
After a significant time spent wallowing in my frustration, I pick up my phone and dial Kayla’s number.
“Hi, I wasn’t expecting your call so early,” she says, her voice happy.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. What’s wrong?” She must hear the strain in my voice.
“We need to talk. Can you come by tomorrow around two o’clock?”
“Yes, of course. Dean?”
“It’s okay, baby. We just need to sort some things out.” I want to tell her, but it’s more important for Logan to own up to what he’s done. Kayla knows something’s off, but she doesn’t ask me to explain. We talk for a few minutes about nothing in particular. My mind is preoccupied, though. By the time I say good night to my very confused and probably worried girl, Tracey is standing in my doorway.
“Dinner’s ready,” she says quietly. “Are you coming to the table, or do you want me to bring it to you?”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I sigh.
Logan doesn’t come down for dinner. Both Matty and Brayden look nervous, probably waiting for me to chew their asses up, but I’m not going to. In their lives, they hang onto those they can trust. They don’t betray each other because they need one another. I was an asshole for asking Brayden to squeal on Logan.
I check on all the kids before bed. Logan looks up when I open his door, but completely ignores me when I tell him it’s lights out. When I pass by his room an hour later, his light’s still on.
The next morning, things haven’t improved. The boys who don’t know what’s going on keep looking around, waiting for someone to trigger an argument. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen. After my restless night of worrying about the situation with Logan and how Kayla’s going to react, I’m too tired to fight, and Logan ends up leaving for school without uttering a word to anyone.
For most of the morning, I try to distract myself with work, but I keep dozing off at my desk. When the doorbell rings early in the afternoon, I startle and sprint to answer it.
“Hey, you.” I smile when I open the door.
“Hi,” she greets cautiously. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Get in here,” I murmur, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside. I want to hold her immediately, but I resist.
“Where is everybody?”
“You’re early. The boys are still at school. Simon’s out running errands. Emily and Aiden are at a parent-teacher meeting for Ashley because of the stapler incident.”
“Whoops.” Kayla laughs. I put my hand on her back and lead her toward the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“That sounds good, thank you.”
I pour two cups of coffee and hand her one before leading her into my office.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks, leaning against my desk.
“Yes. I do,” I admit. “But I think Logan needs to be the one to tell you.”
“Dean, you’re sort of freaking me out.”
Setting down my mug, I curl my fingers and open my arms. Now that we’re in the privacy of my office, I feel an even stronger need to hold her. She puts her coffee down next to mine and lets me wrap my arms around her. I run my fingers through her hair, inhaling her scent. She tilts her head up and slowly lifts herself onto her toes. Her lips press against mine—her kiss both soft and firm. I love it.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmurs.
“I know,” I whisper before glancing up at the clock. It’s not even two. We have a good half hour before anyone gets home. Her fingers cradle my jaw; her thumbs brush over my cheeks. Her lips move down, landing on my chin and then my neck before she pulls back, smiling at me.
“You really are beautiful, you know that?” I ask, scanning her features.
Kayla shakes her head. “Tell me again.”
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper. Leaning in, I push my tongue into her mouth and wrap it around hers. My hand moves to her back, bringing her closer to me. She’s never close enough. I hold her in place with one hand and slide the other up her back, gripping a handful of hair and gently tugging backward so that I can move down her neck.
“What the fuck?”
Kayla jumps, wincing because I still have ahold of her hair. I let go, and her head whips around to see what I’ve already seen. Logan is standing in the doorway, his face drawn up into a surprised and furious scowl.
“Oh, crap,” she gasps under her breath. She steps away from me, straightening her clothes and smoothing over her hair. Shit. This is not good. This is really, really not good. And I have a feeling a bad situation is about to get worse.
“I should have known,” he scoffs. “I should have fucking known.”
“Logan,” I warn. “Stop.”
Hurt flashes across his face before it’s replaced with a stony facade.
“You know what? Fuck you both.” He turns to me. “You’re such a self-righteous prick. ‘You gotta tell Kayla the truth, Logan,’” he mocks. “And this whole fucking time you’ve been… Jesus Christ. How long has this been going on?” he asks, throwing my words back at me. “Did Matty and I get put here because you’re fucking my social worker?”
“Enough, Logan!” Kayla says firmly. “Tell me the truth about what?” His eyes snap to her.
“I’m fucking Claire,” he says emotionlessly. I close my eyes and groan. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.
“I’m sorry… What?” she asks, clearing her th
roat.
“Logan,” I call out again. He glances at me and I shake my head, practically begging him not to do it this way. He ignores me and takes a few steps backward.
“Yeah,” he spits. “Claire and me. We’re fucking. Have been for months. I’m surprised with how close you and Dean apparently are that he hasn’t told you yet. And you want to know something even better?” he asks. His eyes are piercing, his mouth curling into a hateful smirk. “She’s having my baby.”
Chapter 50
Kayla
In every person’s life, there comes a moment when time completely stops. A moment that is so surreal, you think it has to be a dream because there is no way that real life would fuck you over so hard.
Right now, that moment belongs to me. I’ve heard the words Logan said, but for some reason I can’t sort them out in my head. I can’t make sense of them because they don’t make sense. He’s talking about my baby sister like she’s some slut who easily spread her legs for him just because he asked her to. Dean’s hands are on my arms, his grip tightening as Logan shouts at me.
I laugh even though there’s nothing funny about what’s happening. There’s no way Claire would be able to keep that kind of secret. There’s no way she’s pregnant. There’s no way she wouldn’t have told me. There’s no way…
“I get that you’re upset, Logan,” I start. “But this has nothing to do with you. You don’t have to lie just to hurt me.”
His jaw tightens. “I’m not lying,” he growls. “Ask him. Ask your boyfriend.”
I turn to face Dean and sigh, thinking—hoping—that I’m going to get the look of annoyance and disbelief that I’m expecting. But I don’t, and my stomach sinks. My mouth goes dry and the horrible, twisting feeling in my gut begins working its way into my chest, making my heart thump uncontrollably. I think about the way Claire’s been acting. I think about the last couple of months, how I’ve caught her sneaking around and lying to her parents and me on more than one occasion. Oh. My. God.
“No,” I beg. “No, no, no, no, no.” The look of regret and sadness in Dean’s eyes destroys me.
Turning back to Logan, I see that he’s no longer smiling. He actually looks a lot like I feel, like he’s going to vomit. I don’t even realize my body is moving forward until it’s pulled backward, my back crashing into Dean’s chest.
