by J. A. Little
She nods. “Okay. This is going to be really weird, isn’t it?”
Claire reappears holding Logan’s hand.
“Whatup?” he grins, flashing his dimples.
“Yup,” I mumble. “It is.”
* * *
Logan takes off at about eleven. It really wasn’t as weird as I thought it would be. He and Claire watched a movie while I took a shower and Kayla talked to Andy on the phone. We joined them about halfway through, sitting together on the couch. While Logan wrapped himself around Claire like a burrito, I stuck to holding Kayla’s hand.
“Sara says she’s sorry,” Kayla tells me quietly once we’re alone in her room. “I mean, when I talked to her earlier she did.”
“About what?” I ask, confused.
“Um, she’s…uh…”
Then it hits me. “She’s Steph’s worker.”
“Yeah. She… I’m her best friend. She freaked out.”
I pull off my shirt, throwing it on top of the dresser. “It’s fine, baby. I’m not mad. If I had told you to begin with, it never would have happened.” I wince and groan slightly as my side and back start to ache.
“What’s the matter?” Kayla asks, slipping out of her pants and putting on some pajama shorts.
“Nothing.”
“Dean?”
“Nothing. It’s fine.” I clench my jaw as another pinching ache hits my back.
“It’s obviously not fine. Your scars again?”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
She walks toward me. “Lie down,” she orders. I start to protest, but she’s right in front of me with her hands on her hips, and I cannot say no to this woman. “On your stomach.”
“All right. Geez. When did you get so bossy?”
She pushes her finger against my chest with a cute little smirk. Even if I didn’t want to, I’d still do whatever she said…‘cause I’m a pussy.
I leave my pants on and sit down on the mattress before turning over and burying my face in the comforter. I inhale deeply, and the scent of her skin invades my senses. I honestly don’t care what she does to me at this point. I’m just happy to be home.
I hear a drawer open and close, and then feel Kayla crawl over my legs. She plants herself on my ass and leans forward, placing her hands on my skin. They’re smooth—and wet.
“What is that?”
“Lotion,” she answers, her palms pressing firmly against my back. “Does that hurt?”
“No,” I grunt. “It doesn’t hurt, just aches.”
She works the muscles in my back. I don’t know if it’s doing anything for the actual problem, but it feels good—too good.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Have you ever thought about getting a back tat?” I tilt my head to the side so I can sort of see her in my peripheral vision.
“Uh… I’ve thought about it. I just didn’t know what to get, so I left it. Why? You think I should get one?”
Her hands knead the muscles on either side of my spine and then back up over the ruined skin. “I was just curious.”
“I was thinking about trying to get the scars removed,” I mumble against my forearm.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I guess there’s a laser procedure. It won’t make them completely disappear, but it can smooth out the skin a little.”
Kayla doesn’t answer right away, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
“If that’s what you want to do, I think it’s a great idea. Is that any better?”
I roll my shoulders. “Much. Thank you.”
She climbs off me and slides off the bed. After adjusting myself, I follow her to the bathroom. It’s a little awkward as we get ready for bed, but nothing like it used to be when we had a disagreement or misunderstanding. I want her, but I’m not sure if she feels the same. It’s better to play it safe. If she wants me, I have no doubt she’ll let me know.
When we get into bed, she faces away from me. I take this as a sign and don’t try anything. Instead I lie on my back. The urge to hold her is painful, but I resist—until she starts scooting backward. When her back touches my hand, I instinctively roll toward her, my arm wrapping around her waist. Like I said, I’m a pussy. At least for her I am. And I’m totally fine with that.
* * *
When I wake in the morning, my monster boner is either still there or back again. And Kayla’s leg is right up against it. I try not to move, but she doesn’t seem to have the same idea. A little sound escapes her, a high-pitched moan-whimper thing, and she shifts, getting even closer. I grit my teeth. This has got to be my punishment—having her so close and not being able to do anything about it. I can feel her warm breath on my skin. I clench my fists, grabbing the sheets.
“Why are you so tense?” she whispers, lips pressing against my neck.
“I’m trying not to attack you,” I grind out. “You’re making it difficult.”
She giggles, but it’s sleepy and throaty and makes this so much fucking harder. Luckily, she shows me some mercy, rolling away and climbing out of bed. With her in the bathroom, I take the opportunity to get dressed. I yank on some clean boxers, jump up and down, and try to think about something other than sex. It doesn’t work. I think about her naked in the shower—bubbles sliding down over her breasts and between her legs. All I want to do is strip down and join her. She was playful this morning, but I don’t want to assume she’ll just act like everything’s okay. Instead, I pull on a pair of cargos and a T-shirt and leave the room.
The lights are still off in the house and the kitchen’s silent, meaning Claire hasn’t gotten up yet, which is a little odd. Before meeting her, I’d never seen a teenager be such a morning person. I flip the switch, lighting everything up, and start making a pot of coffee. Kayla walks in just as I’m pouring two mugs. I’ve only got a semi now, so I feel much better.
“Thank you,” she says, taking the one I offer. We sit down at the kitchen table, and I fiddle with my phone. I have a couple of group texts from Emily, my dad, and Aiden about a meeting. I scroll through them, not really reading.
“Do you have to work today?” Kayla suddenly asks.
“Sort of,” I say regretfully. “It’s moving day.”
“Oh! I forgot about that.”
“I’m going to go and relieve my brother this morning, and when Tracey gets there, we’ll pack up the Suburban and head over to the apartment.”
“Good,” she says, sipping her coffee. “Are you going to miss them?”
I give her a halfhearted smile and a shrug. “A little.”
“Uh-huh.” She’s obviously not buying it. Truth is, I’m really going to miss Brayden. He’s come a long way in the last seven years. I’m proud of him. I know he still struggles with the urge to steal, and I worry he’ll fall back into old habits. It makes me feel a little better that his therapist has decided to keep seeing him once a month. He’s also going to be seeing Logan once a week, which is a huge deal. After years of refusing therapy, Logan has decided that it might actually be helpful in dealing with his past. Luckily for both of them, their scholarships pay for medical insurance. Mental health is a part of that.
“Do you want some breakfast before you go?”
I shake my head. “Nah, baby. I’m good with just coffee. Thank you, though.” After a few more minutes, I stand up. “I have to go,” I say, blowing out a breath. She glances upward. She still looks tired. I lean down, planting a kiss on her mouth. “Are we okay?”
Her hand reaches out and rests on my jaw, her thumb brushing over my lip. “We’re not great,” she admits. “But we’ll be okay.”
I kiss her thumb. I can handle that.
It’s not even eight o’clock when I pull up to Wyatt House. Inside, it’s quiet, but I can hear movement coming from the kitchen.
“Morning,” I greet my brother, whose face is planted on the table, a cup of coffee at his f
ingertips.
“Morning,” he grumbles.
“You look like shit. What’s up?”
“New kid last night. Got the call at 3:00 a.m. Haven’t been back to sleep.”
“Aww, fuck. Go home, A. Get outta here. I’m good.”
“Let me give you the rundown, and I’ll gladly take you up on that.”
The kid is fifteen-year-old Trey Baker, brought into care when he was five. He was in and out of the system for years until his mom just disappeared when he was twelve. He lived on the streets for a year before being arrested for burglary. He’s been in eight different homes in the last two years. Diagnosed with ADHD and bipolar disorder.
“He’s a runner,” Aiden says.
“Great.”
“You didn’t think we’d get to stay this comfortable, did you?” he chuckles. He’s right. We’ve had it surprisingly easy the last few months. “But we’re going to need to hire someone. Maybe two someones.”
“Yeah. I know.” I frown.
He lifts his head. “So you didn’t come here last night. Can I assume things with Kayla are okay?”
I shrug. “I told her everything. She says we’re okay.”
“That was really stupid, man.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You weren’t,” he points out. I nod once. “Are you done with Steph? I mean, for real?”
“Uh, yeah.” I nod. “I told her I couldn’t help her anymore.”
He stares at me for a minute as if he’s trying to determine whether or not I’m telling the truth. “That’s good to hear. So what time are you planning to start moving?”
I’m relieved by the change of topic. “Tracey’s coming at ten o’clock, so sometime after that.”
“Give me a shout when you’re done packing everything up. You guys can meet me at the unit, and we’ll load up the furniture.”
“You sure you don’t want me to just take your truck?”
“Nah. I rented a big-ass U-Haul. The kids are at Emily’s parents’ for the weekend, so I’ve got plenty of time to sleep. Besides, Emily wants to organize.” I give my brother a sideways glance. “I know. I tried to tell her they’re teenage boys and it’s pointless, but whatever. I’ll see you in a few.”
I work until I hear the boys start to stumble down the stairs. Logan and Brayden are up first, excited and ready to get into their new place.
“You gonna make us breakfast?” Brayden asks, opening up the fridge and drinking orange juice straight from the carton. I grab it from him and open the cabinet for glasses, pulling one out and setting it on the counter firmly before putting the carton next to it to make my point.
“No, you guys are gonna make me breakfast. I need to make sure you can take care of yourselves.”
“Says the man who eats Pop-Tarts when he’s on his own,” Logan snorts.
“Shut it. Those Pop-Tarts have significance,” I laugh.
Brayden narrows his eyes. “I’m trying to figure out how Pop-Tarts could be used sexually. Is it like one of those food fetishes? That’s kind of kinky, dude.” He dodges, laughing, as I try to smack him. Little shit.
The new kid, Trey, is a scrawny little thing with a shaved head and a crooked nose. It’s definitely been broken, probably more than once, and not properly reset. He’s twitchy, too, startling easily. His report says he’s not violent, though. As usual, Edgar and Eric don’t know boundaries and start asking questions right away. Trey’s answers are short when he answers at all. Matty and Curtis don’t ask any questions, but I can see them analyzing him.
I do the standard introductions. First myself and then the boys, one by one. Trey looks at each of us like we’re a threat. This doesn’t bode well for his adjustment, but I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Brayden was the same way and look how he turned out.
While Logan and Brayden make waffles, eggs, and bacon, I take Trey on a tour of the house and explain the rules, including letting us know where he’s going if he walks out the door. I stare down at him.
“That means no running. Got it?”
His mouth pouts, and he nods, albeit reluctantly. I’m not going to fool myself into believing he won’t run, though. We have a three-strikes policy when it comes to runners. I understand once or twice, but eventually, the stress of it gets to the rest of the boys. I can’t do that to them. And in all honesty, it’s a liability we can’t risk.
“As long as you follow the rules, we won’t have a problem.”
We make it back down to the kitchen just in time for breakfast to be served. Logan and Brayden made a shitload of food.
“You cookin’ for everyone?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah, why not?” Brayden shrugs with a grin. “It’s our farewell present.”
“Are your rooms clean?” I ask expectantly. “That would be the best farewell present.”
They look at each other, guilty expressions on their faces. I sigh. Figures.
“Do we got one of those waffle things?” Logan asks, stuffing a massive bite into his mouth.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I want one. I’m like a master fucking chef with that thing. These are awesome.”
Trey’s head shoots up, his eyes wide, looking between Logan and me—like he’s scared.
“Watch your mouth,” I scold. Even though I don’t really care, I don’t want Trey to get the impression that this is a free-for-all. “Ask Emily. If you don’t, you can go buy one.”
“I will.” Logan nods. The rest of breakfast is spent in silence. Well, pretty much. The amount of slurping and munching is ridiculous—and kind of disgusting.
Tracey shows up not too much later. She instantly spots Trey and welcomes him. I chuckle when I notice him trying not to stare at her boobs. She shoots me a dirty look and swats me on the back of the head when she passes by.
I have to admit, the boys did a pretty good job with breakfast. The bacon was a little burnt, but I can’t complain. When I finish, I get up and put my dishes in the sink.
“You guys ready?”
“Yes!” they both say excitedly.
“All right. Get your stuff, say your good-byes, and let’s go.”
The good-byes mostly consist of shoves, fist bumps, and noogies. I wouldn’t expect anything less. These kids are used to departures, either their own or someone else’s. No sense in making it a big thing. This is a good departure, though. These two boys are moving on; they’re living proof that life beyond care doesn’t have to end in homelessness and drugs. This kind of success doesn’t always happen, so I’m extremely happy.
I’ve just finished loading the last of the boxes and am heading in to grab the apartment keys from my office when I stop dead in my tracks. Logan and Matty are standing in the hallway just outside the den.
“I’ll be back,” Logan says in a low voice. “I promise.”
Matty shrugs but keeps his mouth shut. I can see his jaw tense up and his lower lip tremble. I feel for the kid. I remember when Aiden left for college. I felt like he was abandoning me. It hurt, and I was sure he’d never come back, but of course he did. And Logan will, too.
“Dude, just think about how easy it’ll be without me fucking things up for you.” He has a smile on his face, but it’s strained.
“Yeah,” Matty mumbles. I’m really not trying to eavesdrop. …Actually, yeah, I am.
“Maybe…maybe in a couple years you can come live with me and Claire. It’s probably not a good idea right now. I mean I’m still trying to figure it all out and I…I kinda messed up. With the baby and all. Me and Claire, we gotta take care of stuff, but maybe after, ya know? This is a good place, Matty. I wouldn’t leave you here if I didn’t think they’d take care of you.”
Matty nods. “I know.”
Logan takes a deep breath, his chest rising high, and straightens himself up. “‘Kay. Good. I’ll call you. Love you, man.”
“Love you, too.” Their hug is awkward at first, but quic
kly turns into something I would expect from two brothers as close as they are. I turn away and lean up against the wall. When Logan passes by me, I try to pretend I wasn’t listening in, but he knows I was.
“What?”
I shake my head, feeling my lips turn upward. “Nothing.”
“Whatever. He’s my little brother.”
“I didn’t say anything.” I’m full on grinning at this point. He rolls his eyes at me and walks out the door. I run back to my office and grab the keys. When I get back outside, Logan and Brayden are climbing into the suburban.
“Ready?” I ask, turning it on.
“Giddyup,” Brayden shouts from the back. I look over at Logan as we pull away. His eyes are trained on the house, his expression solemn.
“He’ll be okay, Logan. We’ll take care of him. You know that.”
“It’s cool,” he mumbles. But his gaze doesn’t shift.
Chapter 68
Dean
Six hours later, Aiden, the boys, and I are still unloading the furniture into the apartment. We underestimated how long it would take to load up that fucking U-Haul. We’re all exhausted. Emily has been busy unpacking kitchen things, bed sheets, and all that other stuff I would have forgotten about. We set down one of the couches just as I hear footsteps.
“Knock, knock.” I look up and smile as I see Kayla in the doorway with a carrier tray of drinks. Claire and Caitlynn are behind her. “We came to see if you guys needed help. We brought caffeine.”
“And food,” Claire adds, holding up a large bag from Outback. Caitlynn has two more in her hands.
You’d think Brayden and Logan hadn’t eaten in days, the way they descend on their girlfriends.
“How’s it going?” Kayla asks after handing the tray to Logan and watching the horde of teenagers move to the kitchen.
“It’s going. I thought we’d be done by now.” I kiss her, sucking her lower lip into my mouth for just a second.
“That happens.”
“Yeah, but I gotta work tonight. We should be spending more time together, not less.”
