by J. A. Little
“We’ve all made bad decisions, especially as kids.”
“He got married.”
“Oh.”
“To a drug-addicted prostitute.”
“Ooooohhh.”
“Yeah. Well, she burned him badly and between what he did as a kid and what his wife did to him, he’s really skittish about relationships.”
“But he wants more.”
“He says he wants more, but I’m worried he just said it because he thinks that’s what I wanted to hear.”
“Kayla, honey, you’re making my head spin.”
“I’m in love with him, Karen. But I’m afraid to tell him because I think he’ll run. He’s run before when things started to get serious. I would rather spend the rest of my life with him and never say the words than say them and have to go through the pain of losing him.”
“Well,” she breathes out. “Wow.”
“I know.”
“So, you don’t think he feels the same?”
“I don’t know what he feels. I know he cares about me. And sometimes I think I see something more—feel something more—coming from him, but I don’t know if it’s really there, or if I’m imagining things because I want him to love me back.
Karen sits quietly for a moment. “You want to know if I think you should tell him?”
I nod. “Yes, please.”
“I think you should tell him,” she says simply.
“But what if he freaks out?”
“What if he does?
“I told him I wouldn’t push him.”
“You’re not pushing him. You’re telling him how you feel. Relationships are give-and-take, Kayla. I absolutely agree that you should be sensitive to his needs, but he should be sensitive to yours as well. Don’t sell yourself short, honey. If he runs, he isn’t right for you. Never, ever sacrifice yourself for someone who’s unwilling to do the same.” She takes a deep breath. “All that being said, he deserves to know. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to say it first.”
I let out a snort. Doubtful, but maybe. “You know, I never realized you were so smart,” I tease. “If I’d listened to you when I was younger, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache.”
“Yes, well, live and learn. I learned a lot with Andy. I learned even more with you. It’s just too bad there were no more little people that could benefit from my infinite child-rearing wisdom.”
“Why didn’t you have any more? Kids, I mean.”
“Hmmm. I always wanted to, but circumstances… Well, by the time I met your father, I couldn’t have any more. I trust God knew what he was doing. I’m hoping I’ll get to spoil that little baby Claire has coming, and eventually I’ll get some grandbabies out of you and Andy, right?”
“Ha! I don’t know about me, but I’m pretty sure Andy wants half a dozen.”
“Why not you?” she protested.
I shrug lightly. “I’ve never really thought about it seriously,” I say, trying not to think about having babies with Dean. “Besides, I’m going to have my hands full with Claire and the baby…and Logan.”
“He can’t be that bad if Claire loves him. She’s a good girl, Kayla.”
“I know she is. And…he’s not. I love Logan, but he’s too freaking cocky. He thinks he can do anything without consequences, and obviously he was wrong. I’m being taken off Matty’s case because of Logan’s actions. I haven’t told him yet. He’s had so much loss in his life. I’m afraid that when I do, he’s going to lose it.”
“How old is Matty?” Karen asks, squinting.
“Fourteen,” I answer. “Too young to be on his own and too old for most foster families to take a serious interest in.”
“That’s really sad,” Karen says softly.
“Yeah,” I agree. “I know.”
Chapter 59
Kayla
The next day, Dean still occasionally seems lost in thought. But he jokes around with Claire, and when Andy gets home just before noon, they sit in the sun and have a beer while Claire and I pick weeds in the backyard. When he has to get back to Wyatt House, I walk him to his car and he kisses me good-bye, promising to bring me a coffee tomorrow.
After he’s gone, I lay down on the grass next to Claire. We start talking about school tomorrow and she frowns.
“I don’t have any clothes.”
She’s right—she’s been living in my yoga or pajama pants and T-shirts for the last several days. Fortunately, for the last week of school, they’re allowed to wear street clothes, so I don’t have to worry about getting a uniform for five days. I have no idea what I’m going to do for the fall. I’m pretty sure they don’t make maternity school uniforms.
I take her shopping at the mall and we get her some clothes that will work. They’re not designer or anything, but they’re nice. She has a mini-meltdown when her normal size is a little tight and I recommend she buy a size up, mentioning that she isn’t getting smaller anytime soon. She doesn’t appreciate my honesty.
“Everyone’s going to know,” she whines as she gazes at herself in the mirror.
“Claire, blousy shirts are in. No one’s gonna know. You look fantastic,” I assure. It takes me over half an hour to convince her, but eventually she agrees that, other than a few extra pounds, she really isn’t showing.
* * *
Come Monday morning, I’m hit full force with the situation at hand. The second I get to work after dropping Claire off at school, Kate pulls me into her office.
“You need to be in Fallon’s office at eleven o’clock.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“Richard Graeme called him Friday afternoon. He made some very nasty accusations about you.”
“Like what?” I scoff.
“He said you encouraged the relationship between Logan and your sister. That you used your position of power to influence them and that you assisted them in lying and sneaking around.”
“That’s ridiculous. I was pissed off beyond belief when I found out.”
“I know that, and I explained it to Fallon.”
“What else?”
“He also raised the ethical issues of your relationship with Dean.”
“There are no ethical issues,” I almost yell. “I knew he was going to pull this shit. Motherfu—” I hold back my language, but barely.
“Kayla,” Kate sighs. “Fallon was a worker and a supervisor before he was director. He knows what lengths people will go to when they’re worried about having their children taken away. Richard Graeme is trying to save face, make you look like the bad guy.”
“This is such a pain in the ass,” I growl.
“I know, but try not to worry about it. Is Logan’s case ready to be closed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Write up the report and send it over to Andy. Ask him to get the case on the docket as soon as possible. Matty’s case is already officially Dana’s. We’ve done what needed to be done, and we’ve done it by the book.”
At ten forty-five, I’m standing in front of Dominic Fallon’s office. I’m afraid to knock. I shouldn’t be—I haven’t done anything wrong—but I haven’t had many run-ins with our director. He deals with much bigger issues—whole agency issues. But I guess when a world-class surgeon with an expensive, high-powered attorney calls him directly, he has no choice other than to get involved.
I finally rap my knuckles on the door and hear him say “come in.” Fallon is one of those guys who, if he didn’t look so mean, would be the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He’s about six foot four with olive skin and thick, dark hair. There are a few streaks of gray here and there that betray his age. Whenever I see him, he always appears very stern and domineering. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him smile.
He looks up as I walk in, and his trademark scowl greets me. My heart speeds up anxiously.
“Ms. Brooks. Please sit down.”
I do as I’m told, feeling like a little girl. It sucks. I’m not a little girl. I’m a strong, indepen
dent, hardworking woman. I take a deep breath and straighten myself up. I haven’t done anything wrong.
“I’m going to make this short and sweet. I am irritated that I had to endure Mr. Richard Graeme screaming at me for an hour on Friday afternoon about how inappropriate you’ve been with your caseload and, apparently, your placements.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from belting out my defense. “That being said,” he continues, “I’ve spoken with your supervisor and she filled me in on the situation. She insists that you had no knowledge of the relationship between Logan Davidson and Mr. Graeme’s daughter, who just happens to be your sister. She also explained that once you found out about it, you approached her and did what was necessary to make sure there was no conflict of interest.” I nod, but don’t speak. “I also understand that family issues have resulted in Mr. Graeme’s daughter being removed from his care and placed in yours. So although I take every accusation seriously, I’m not inclined to make any rash disciplinary decisions right now.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“And as for your relationship with Mr. Wyatt, I don’t really care what you do in your personal life. That’s not any of my concern. Joe Wyatt happens to be a friend of mine, and I spoke to him this weekend. He assures me that there has been no impropriety.” I press my lips together, trying not to smile. I could fucking kiss Joe right now. “So, I have all the information I need?”
“Yes, sir, you do.”
He stares at me for a minute. “Good. I’ll deal with any further complaints from Mr. Graeme.”
I stand up when he stops talking. “Thank you, Mr. Fallon. I appreciate your support.”
He nods. “Kate tells me you’re a very thorough caseworker, Ms. Brooks. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. I’ve had lawyers, agencies, and foster parents tell me the same thing. You’re also well-respected amongst your coworkers.”
This time, I don’t hide my grin. I think I might even see his lips twitch before he lowers his head to return to whatever he was doing before our meeting.
I make my way back to my office, giving Kate a thumbs-up on my way. I don’t have any visits planned until later in the afternoon, so I can relax for awhile. Around one, I get a phone call from Xavier at the front desk.
“Kayla, you have a visitor.”
“Thank you.” I smile. A little bit of Dean is exactly what I need. Sara laughs at me as I jump up and run out the door. When I get to the front, I stop in my tracks and my heart flutters happily. He’s standing against the wall, ankles crossed, coffee in hand. He’s wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans slung low on his hips and a black T-shirt that puts his tats on full display. His knit hat is on his head. I almost swallow my tongue. I kind of like that he makes me feel like a lovesick teenager.
He grins when he spots me. After handing off the coffees, he empties his pockets for the metal detector and comes through.
“Which one’s mine?” I ask, finding my voice. He takes one of the cups from me and ghosts his hand over the small of my back.
“This one. Hi.” He winks, and I melt because I love him—and he knows it.
“Hi.”
“Mita sends her love.”
I smile. “Come on back.”
We weave through the hallway. Dean is close, his fingers just barely touching mine. A few of the other women around the building stare wide-eyed as we walk past them. Yeah, he looks that good. And he’s mine.
I take him back to my office. Sara and Warren greet him enthusiastically. I introduce him to Dana, who freaking blushes when he smiles at her. Kate comes in to say hello and introduce herself. She’s had several workers with kids at Wyatt House in her career, but has never met Dean, Aiden, or Joe.
A few unexpected people stop by, too—just to say hello or ask a completely useless question. I snort when someone I barely recognize and have never spoken to asks if we’ve noticed that the sandwich cart prices have gone up.
“Must have something to do with the quality of the meat,” Warren quips with a sarcastic smile, making us all giggle.
We drink our coffee and chat, but as it gets closer to the time kids get out of school, everyone starts packing up to head out to visits.
“I had to talk to Fallon this morning,” I tell Dean as I’m walking him out. “I didn’t realize your dad knew him.”
“Yeah. I talked to my dad earlier today. He said he got a call over the weekend. He cleared it all up, right?”
I nod. “Yes, he did. I owe him big time.”
Dean chuckles. “No, you don’t.” He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. “We’re not doing anything wrong, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I agree. “Are you working tonight?”
“Yeah. Tonight and tomorrow night, but I’m off nights Wednesday through Monday.”
“Well, that’s nice. Are you staying with me?”
Dean frowns. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” I rush out. “I just wasn’t sure. I mean, with Claire being there. You have your own quiet apartment, and I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to…”
He silences me with a kiss. “I want to. That apartment… There’s nothing there for me. And I’ve been thinking. I want to talk to you about that.”
“Okay,” I answer nervously. “About what exactly?”
“Um, not right now. I have an appointment this afternoon.”
“Oh.”
“With a therapist.”
“Ohhhhh. Uh…I didn’t know.”
“Well, I just called this morning and he had an appointment open today, so it was a last-minute thing. I have things I want to tell you, but I don’t know how and…I’m hoping he can help me. So that I don’t fuck things up.”
“Ookay.”
His tense expression fades and he smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got too much going on as it is. Let me deal with a few things and then we’ll…uh…whatever.”
“You have such a way with words,” I tease, trying not to show him how anxious he’s made me.
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem.” He kisses me again. “I’ll call you later.”
I watch him go. A therapist. He’s seeing a therapist. I’m nervous about what he wants to talk about, but also excited. I smile. He doesn’t have to tell me how he feels. I already know.
Chapter 60
Kayla
I spend the next several hours in relative peace. I get a phone call from a foster parent asking me about getting permission to take a child out of state for a vacation this summer, a doctor’s office requesting consent for a procedure, and a lawyer asking me to email him a copy of a case plan. I wonder if Dean is at his therapy appointment and what exactly he’s going for. I know he needs to deal with the accident, but he said he had some things he needed to tell me and didn’t know how. Does that mean he’s going to talk about his fear of relationships? I briefly consider that there may be more that he’s not telling me but push it back. I trust him. I love him.
I’m about to start packing up for the day when my cell rings. I glance at it and don’t recognize the number, but that’s not entirely unusual.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Kayla Brooks?”
“Uh, yes, it is. And this is?”
“Alessandra Iverson. Headmistress of…”
“I remember you, Mrs. Iverson. What can I do for you?”
“Would it be possible for you to meet with me tomorrow morning?”
“Regarding?”
“Your sister, Claire.”
Duh. Apparently, I’m not going to get a whole lot out of her over the phone. I look at my calendar.
“I can meet you after I drop Claire off tomorrow morning. Is that all right?”
“That will work. I appreciate it, Ms. Brooks.”
I hit the END CALL button and slip my phone into my purse before leaving to go home. When I get there, Andy and Claire are both home and eating dinner.
“We were going to wait for you, but we go
t hungry,” Andy says with his mouth full. I wrinkle my nose. I hate it when he does that. Setting my things down, I join them at the table. I ask Claire how school went, and she shrugs.
“Fine, I guess. Headmistress Iverson called me into her office and asked me if everything was okay. I told her I was living with you.”
“Do you know what’s going on?”
She shakes her head. “No. She didn’t say much.”
“Huh. Okay, well, she asked me to come talk to her tomorrow morning. Nothing happened?”
“Nope. Not that I know of.” Claire keeps eating, and I drop it.
Dean calls as I’m getting ready for bed. I want to ask him how his therapy session was, but I don’t want to pry.
As usual when Dean’s not with me, I toss and turn all night. I try to pull myself together in the morning. Andy even makes my coffee super strong, but I’m definitely not at the top of my game when I walk into Headmistress Iverson’s office. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the diplomas, awards, and pictures. I shift uncomfortably in the wooden chair.
“We have a situation, Ms. Brooks,” she says, sitting down behind her desk. “We received a phone call yesterday morning from Richard Graeme. He informed us that Claire will not be returning next year and that he is pulling support from our school.”
My heart sinks. I knew Richard was a bastard, but I’d hoped he wouldn’t go this route.
“When I called Claire into my office, she explained that you are now her guardian?”
“I share temporary guardianship with the state,” I say flatly.
“Okay. Well, my purpose in bringing you in here is to discuss Claire’s future. She’s one of our brightest students, and I want to see her succeed despite what’s going on at home.”
“What are her options at this point? I can’t afford to pay tuition,” I say, embarrassed. “I mean, if we can work out some sort of payment plan, but…”
“I’ll talk to the board. I can’t make any guarantees, but we have scholarships available. Let me see what I can do. I really like Claire, Ms. Brooks. She’s been an ideal student, and I would love for her to be able to graduate with her class.”
