by Nicole Dykes
“You might as well be a stranger to me, Rhys.”
I stare at her, unsure what she wants from me. “You never wanted me to talk before. You never asked questions.” I liked that about her.
She folds her arms over her chest, just staring at me.
Is it answers she wants? Because I don’t know if I can do that.
This has to be a fucking joke, right?
He wants me to move in with him so he can get custody of some kid. He fucking lives here in St. Louis. And has for the same month that I have. “Do you know this kid?”
“I just met her.”
His short answers make me homicidal. “Yeah, well. Good luck with that, Rhys.”
I move past him, still careful not to make contact even though I'm pissed-off. He’s still following me, and when we reach my car, I make a huge mistake and turn around to look at him.
God. Damn. It.
“Explain.” I fold my arms over my chest, staring at him with fury because I want to kill him. He didn’t fucking tell me he was moving. Because he doesn’t give a damn about me.
“A kid came into my shop yesterday. Scared.” He shakes his head. “No. Fucking terrified. She told me her foster father hurts her. She asked me to hide her.”
“Why would she go to you?”
He seems so lost. Out of control. And it’s awful to see. “I have no idea. None. But she did. For whatever reason, she flew into my shop yesterday, and she needs my help. They aren’t going to give her to some strange guy who she’s not related to. But they will give her to some strange couple she’s not related to. You know Logan’s stepmom?”
“Gillian.” I’ve only met her a few times, but she seems nice enough.
“She’s a social worker. She’s going to try to work some magic, but I need to make it as easy as I can. And if I'm not living alone, it’ll look a hell of a lot better.”
I huff and drop my arms, hating that I'm even giving him the time of day, but he looks so desperate. And Rhys does not ask for help. “How do you know this girl is really in trouble?”
His gaze is hard. His eyes almost black. “Because I know.”
That’s not an answer, but it is a Rhys answer.” “How long?”
He looks surprised that I'm even entertaining the idea, and he should be. I’m surprised at myself. “I don’t know. It might be a month or two.”
A month or two living with Rhys and a strange little girl. “I know nothing about raising a kid. I don’t want to know anything about raising a kid.”
“I’ll do it all. It’s just for show.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I won’t touch you.”
I nearly snort at the idea. Him not touching me. “I’m not staying in whatever shithole you’re living in, and I doubt that it will look that great to social services.”
He looks annoyed, but shockingly, he doesn’t fight me. “What do you suggest then?”
“You two can move into my house, I guess. It’s nice. Big. Enough room for you to stay the fuck away from me and appease social services.”
He lets out a long breath of air, almost like he was holding it. “Okay. Thank you.”
“You really think that you’re what’s best for this kid?”
He nods his head once, and he does look certain. “It’s better than where she was, Blair.”
My name on his lips sends a shudder through me I'm not proud of.
“When do you move in?”
“I’m filing the paperwork tomorrow morning. Gillian is doing her best to put everything through fast. If all goes well, by Friday.”
I swallow my nerves, determined not to let him see.
“Fine. My number’s still the same. Call me when you have the details.”
He nods, and I grab my door handle opening it, not chancing another glance back at him as I climb inside.
What the hell did I just agree to?
Gillian is a fucking magician. I have no idea how she did it, but she managed to get us qualified as temporary housing status in the system.
It’s not a permanent solution by any means, but it gives me more time. Time to apply to be an actual foster parent for Bree.
I have to file a whole new set of paperwork for that, and it can take a couple of months, but Gillian is going to try to push that through.
I never thought I would grow up to have a connection to a social worker. I grew up despising them all, but I'm grateful for her right now.
I go into the Family Services building and find Morgan, who is clearly not happy with me. I have no idea what her connection to Gillian is, but she’s definitely not the bright and shiny type. She’s glaring daggers at me as she questions me again, going over the paperwork.
“You live with a Blair Ashton?”
I nod my head and point to the paper. “Yes. At that address. We just moved here.”
She’s not buying it, and she has definitely dropped the Mary Poppins routine now that Bree isn’t standing right here. I’m glad she did. It was annoying. “How long have you been dating?”
Again, I point to the paper. “Three years.” I mean, that’s how long I've been fucking her.
“Any plans to marry?”
I almost gulp at the questions. Marriage has never crossed my mind. Ever. “Does that matter?”
She peers up at me over the rims of her glasses that have slid down her nose. “Yes. Are you committed to this woman?”
I don’t lie to the people in my life. The people I care about. But to people in this system, fuck yeah, I'll lie. “Yes.”
She huffs and looks down at the paper. “You were in rehab?”
Fuck, woman. I thought Gillian had it handled, but it sure feels like an interrogation. “I was. I’ve been clean for five years.”
“And you’re only twenty-three.”
My patience is wearing thin. “What exactly is your problem with me? My tattoos? My past? The fact that I don’t have much money? Or just all of it?”
This is why I'm quiet most of the time. I have zero tolerance for humans. She looks up at me, removing her glasses. “Do you know how many children I see every single day. Children who would kill to be in a home with the Herringtons?”
There’s that vomit feeling again. Because I know she’s right. “Just because something looks shiny on the outside doesn’t mean it’s good.”
“Nothing tells me that they are bad.”
“Except for Bree.”
She shakes her head at me as if I’m naïve. I’m not. “Bree is no angel.” I feel my fists clenching against my thighs. “She’s been disruptive in school. She’s been caught lying and stealing. She’s eleven, but she has quite the record. And Mr. And Mrs. Herrington were overlooking all of that. They wanted to adopt her, but because you got involved that whole process has been put on hold, and you don’t even know this girl.”
That fucker will never adopt her. “And neither do you. And so fucking what if she acts out? Maybe she was screaming for help.”
“This was long before the Herringtons, Mr. Moore. What if they were the answer to her prayers?”
“What if they were her nightmare?” I sit still, but my skin is crawling, itching for relief. I’m wound tight, and what I really need is a meeting, but I stay in my seat.
Again, she shakes her head at me. “Do you know the things they could have given her? The education? The clothes? The social status? And to be honest with you, they still might if I have my way.”
I stare into her eyes, unwavering. “You’ll have to go through me, and I may seem like a nobody, but I can be your worst nightmare.”
Her glare doesn’t even begin to penetrate me. I’ve been up against far worse. “You realize I'm going to be up your ass? You mess up one time, and it’s over. I don’t care who you know.”
“And yet, you’re only just now investigating the Herringtons and will probably do a piss poor job at it.”
“You should probably start regarding me with a little respect, Mr. Moore.”
I stand, towering over her. “Respect is tough to earn and easily lost. I have no idea why you have Gillian’s respect, and I don’t care. But you don’t have mine. I’ll jump through the hoops though. Where’s Bree?”
She sucks in a deep breath and stands. “She’s in the office. I’ll go get her and her things. I will be by for a surprise inspection very soon.”
I can hear the threat in her words, and I know I have a lot to do today. It wouldn’t surprise me if she showed up tomorrow. “Not a problem.”
“You’re robbing this girl. You understand that? You may have never gotten a break, but this is hers.”
I don’t say anything. Just stand still, staring at her until she moves away from me, retreating and then bringing Bree back. She doesn’t look thrilled, but I’m pretty sure that’s just her face. Another thing we have in common.
“You ready?”
She nods, slinging her little duffle bag over her shoulder, and I quickly take it, putting it on my own shoulder. She doesn’t argue with me, but I feel like she wants to.
She’s watching Morgan with hesitance as the woman bends down in front of her to get to eye level. “If you need anything at all, please call me. Okay?” Morgan’s eyes meet mine and then back to Bree. “Anything at all.”
Bree shrugs her off, not falling for the nice act in the slightest. That’s the thing about street kids, we can read people better than anyone else on the planet.
“I’m fine.”
I like the hint of attitude and lead her out of this hell hole without another glance to Ms. Winters.
We reach my car before Bree says anything. “So how long am I staying with you?”
It’s not hopeful. Or even really the curiosity of a kid. It’s just what it is. A blank question, knowing the system is out to fuck her over.
“I have shit to work out, but if I have anything to say about it, you’ll be with me until I can find you somewhere truly safe.”
Her little brow crinkles, her hair still down with curls everywhere. “Does that place exist?”
I’m not sure, but I'm going to try to find it if it does.
Oh my God, what the hell did I agree to? I’m really not sure I can do this, but I guess I'm going to. Rhys sent a text that they’re on their way about an hour ago, and I left work early so I’d be here.
It’s all happening fast.
The doorbell rings, and when I open the door, there’s Rhys in all his broody, silent fucking hot glory. He didn’t dress up for social services. He’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that would make any straight woman fucking drool.
I look down at the girl at his side. She’s a skinny, bony little thing. Pretty face. Almost like a doll, but her hair is unruly as all hell. The brown curls are everywhere, and I wonder if she brushed them this morning. She’s wearing a little plaid jumper with a white shirt, but it seems wrong.
I don’t think it’s her style at all.
“Blair.”
“Hey, Rhys.”
The girl looks from me to him and then back at me. Then back to him, pointing up at me. “This is your girlfriend?”
Rhys looks uncomfortable, but we agreed it would be best to keep her in the dark about what we actually are in order to protect her from having to lie. “Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Blair.”
Her blue eyes flash to mine, and she seems almost annoyed. She looks back at Rhys. “Really?”
I swear, Rhys almost cracks an honest-to-God smile as if these two have some kind of inside joke. “Yes. Really.” He turns to me. “Can we come in?”
I nod and move out of the way as he walks in, carrying two bags.
I’m still trying here even though I have no idea how to be nice. She’s a kid though. How hard can it be. “So you’re Bree.”
It’s not a question, but she rolls her eyes at me. “Good job.” She looks over at Rhys again, angling her thumb in my direction. “I didn’t think you’d be with a Barbie.”
I glare at Rhys, and his eyes widen slightly, probably realizing I'm not above slapping an eleven-year-old as he steps in between us, looking at her. “She’s Badass Barbie, if it helps.”
Again, the kid rolls her eyes, and I'm about to throttle Rhys. Really? He had to choose this one?
He turns to look at me, a pleading look on his face. “Sorry.”
“Did she seriously just call me a fucking Barbie?”
“Have you looked in a mirror, lately?” The little brat has some fucking nerve.
Rhys holds up a hand in my direction. “Blair, you’re the one that called yourself a fucking Barbie when we first met.”
“I don’t like it,” I growl.
He just shrugs. “So, put on fifty pounds. Take out the tits. Let me tattoo your face.”
I place one hand on my hip and glare at him. “Are you seriously going to give me shit right now? After everythi—”
He moves to stand right in front of me, and honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever been this close, face-to-face. At least not for a long, long time. He looks desperate, and there’s something not quite right in his eyes. “No. I’m not. I swear. I’m sorry.”
I huff and drop my hand from my hip. “Fine. Whatever.” I look over at Bree. “Do you want to see your room?”
She just shrugs. “Sure.”
Oh great. There’s two of them.
I lead the way, and they both follow, not saying a word. I wonder if they talked at all in the car. Are either of them capable of it?
I lead them up the stairs, past my office and to the next bedroom on the left, pushing open the door. “Okay. This is your room. I didn’t have much time to prepare, but I figured we can go shopping to add some touches to your room. I had no idea what you would be into. Clearly not Barbies.”
She scrunches her nose at that and looks around the plain room. There’s a full bed that still has some boring adult bedding on it. Solid purple. There’s a dresser, and the bathroom is shared with the office, but it will just be hers. I bought her some shampoo and toiletries that I left on the sink.
“This is fine.” She sits on the bed. “It’s only temporary, right?”
It’s not a real question, and the kid doesn’t seem to have much hope. Maybe Rhys was right. She doesn’t seem like an eleven-year-old, not that I've been around any since I was eleven.
Still, she lacks childhood innocence.
“Well, we can still go get you some stuff, and you can take it with you if you leave.”
Again, her little brow furrows, and she looks annoyed before she shrugs. Rhys just looks fucking uncomfortable.
But that’s Rhys.
“Okay. Well, I’ll let you settle in.”
She nods, and I exit, feeling Rhys follow. I hate how I know his scent. I dream about that scent sometimes, manly and safe. Even though I've never been able to lay my head on his shoulder or really have long enough to really take him all in, I know how he smells. And it’s fucking delicious.
“You don’t really have to stay on the couch.”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
“Won’t that be suspicious if the social worker comes to check on us?”
His eyes darken, and I wonder what happened at the meeting. He looks around the second floor. “Does this place have another room?”
It does.
Still, I find myself wanting him in my bed. “Another room would be the same thing as the couch.
His eyes meet mine. “Blair. I can’t sleep in the same bed with you.”
I think I'm actually blushing with embarrassment from being so fucking stupid. “Of course not.”
I start to walk away, needing some space, but his hand catches mine. I look up at him in shock, and he lets go like I bit him. “I can’t sleep with anyone, Blair.”
I nod, feeling that familiar soft spot I have for him. “My bedroom is huge.” I gesture for him to follow me down the hall where my bedroom is located. I push through the double doors of the massive room to show him I'm not kidding.
He looks around, his eyes taking in every detail, but I swear the way he’s looking at it, it might as well be a prison. I have a king-sized bed, and a large flat screen. There are two comfy chairs and a pink chaise lounge chair by the window. I point at it. “You could sleep there, but I think you're longer than it is.”
He nods his head. “Okay.”
I look at him like he’s crazy because clearly he is. “Rhys, I was kidding.”
“I’m not.” His eyes tell me he’s deadly serious. “It’s fine. I’ve slept in way worse.”
I flop down on my bed, my arm flung over my eyes as my head is angled up at the ceiling. My feet are still on the floor. “What if we put pillows between us? It seems really fucking stupid to have you sleep on that thing.”
Just because he’s afraid we might what? End up spooning in the middle of the night.
“The chair is fine.”
I sit up and look over at him. “Fine. Have it your way. I’m gonna take the little brat shopping.”
“Don’t call her that.” He doesn’t seem irritated though, almost like he finds the nickname amusing.
“She’s awful, Rhys. You know that, right?” My eyes meet his, and my tone is playful even though I hate it because I actually like her already. Even if she called me “Barbie” and gave me a ton of attitude. She’s obviously hellbent on giving me a hard time.
“Yeah, but she’s kind of great.”
I smile. “Aw, you’re smitten.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been smitten. She’s a tough kid. And you do look like a Barbie.”
I meet his eyes, my hands itching to touch him, but I don’t. “Then you must have a Barbie fantasy.”
He doesn’t argue. “Thank you, Blair.”
I don’t know how to handle how he’s looking at me. “It’s not really that big of a deal. The house is huge.”
“I’m going to go check on her.”
I nod dumbly as he leaves, and I watch him walking up the stairs.
I could be in over my head here.
Blair is truly amazing. There’s no denying it.
