When Faults Collide (Faultlines #1) (19 page)

I turned around and saw Blake walking up the front stairs. I grinned immediately and leapt into his arms after he got onto the porch.

He laughed and swung me around, setting me down to kiss me softly on the lips.

“Hey, mister,” I said playfully.

“Hello, madam,” he said, feigning a very formal tone before leaning in to whisper, “Is this like...role playing? Because that might be totally hot.” He waggled his eye brows.

I pushed him playfully in the chest and then turned to walk inside.

“What time do we need to be there?” I asked, slipping my boots into the basket.

As he pulled off his Converses he answered, “Around six. Amy is overjoyed to finally meet you, by the way.”

I hung my coat on the hook above the basket and then looked at him nervously.

“What if she, like, asks me things?” I asked.

He chuckled. “I’m sure she is going to ask you things. You are the first girl I’ve ever brought home. There will be a bit of an inquisition.”

I laughed nervously. “Right, but...questions about my past?”

His eyes met mine with understanding before he answered. “You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. However, you may find yourself sharing more than you think. Amy has that way with people. For now, all she knows is that we have similar backgrounds, and that I’m crazy about you.”

“Well, I don’t know about me suddenly oversharing, but I do know that I’m pretty crazy about you, too,” I said before leaning up for a quick kiss.

Chapter Twenty Two

A little while later we were dressed and heading out. I had gone for a more casual look, at Blake’s request, and sported black skinny jeans, a coral top with a tan cardigan and tan boots.

Blake was in fitted jeans and a Halo tee with, of course, his Converses.

We drove over the bridge hand in hand and made our way into Westover Hills. This was a blend of middle and upper-middle class neighborhoods in south Richmond. It was beautifully landscaped and close to a lot of the big parks.

We turned onto their street and pulled into the driveway. They had a small one level ranch with yellow siding and a huge yard. It looked like a pretty typical house, with bikes parked in front of the front porch and a box of what appeared to be toys sitting next to the door.

We got out and Blake took my hand as we started walking towards the door.

Suddenly the front door opened and a woman burst down the stairs and practically tackled Blake with her embrace.

“Ahhh!” she squealed happily, “my sweet boy! I’m so happy you’re here!”

She pulled away as Blake laughed.

“Hi, Mom,” he said happily.

She turned to give me the once-over. She was a curvy, shorter woman, much younger than I was expecting, with brown hair falling in soft curls over her round face. Her hazel eyes narrowed for a moment as if inspecting me and then she grinned and opened her arms for an embrace.

“Asha, right? So happy to meet you, honey!” she said, pulling me towards her.

I was a little taken back by her excitement and very bubbly personality. I was expecting her to be more, I don’t know... matronly?

What the heck did I know?

“Hi,” I squeaked.

She pulled back and stroked my hair as she turned to Blake again.

“Well, she is gorgeous,” she said with a wink before turning to head back inside.

As we made it to the door, a short pre-teen boy with dark skin ran right through us as he was being chased by another boy, who looked only slightly younger. They tackled each other in the yard, laughing.

“Marcus! Quinn! Get your butts back in this house right this instant and you better say sorry to your brother and our guest!” Amy scolded them firmly.

Ah...so there was the tough no-nonsense mom Blake warned me about!

The boys obediently stopped roughhousing, straightened their clothes, and walked towards us.

The older boy held out his hand to me. “Hi. Sorry about that. Marcus Green.”

The younger boy reluctantly followed suit. “Sorry. Quinn Green.”

I shook both of their hands and smiled.

Blake hugged them and they made their way in the house, with us finally following behind. Blake leaned in and whispered, “Sorry. It’s a little nuts around here.”

I smiled a small smile and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Truthfully, it didn’t feel nuts. It felt warm. Home-like.

He led me inside to what was like a great room: one large room, open-concept, that housed the kitchen, living, and dining room. Both modern and traditional furniture was spread throughout, the walls covered with art and photographs of all the kids.

I smiled and walked over to see all of the the pictures of Blake as a younger kid.

“Wasn’t he always so handsome?” Amy asked me, stepping next to me and looking at her giant wall of photos.

I nodded. “Still is.”

Amy laughed and then made her way towards the kitchen.

“Can I get you something to drink, Asha? Please make yourself at home. Really.”

“Water would be great, thanks.”

Suddenly I heard shrill screaming. Not upset screaming; happy screaming.

I saw two young girls with dark skin, their curly hair pulled into little puffs, both appearing about the same age as the boys outside. They were running towards Blake.

Blake opened his arms and greeted their tackling embrace.

This was a hugging family, that’s for sure.

The older girl, so petite with a babydoll like face, turned my way and smiled.

She walked towards me with her hand held out. “Peyton Green.” She said with a smile.

The younger one, also petite but absolutely stunningly gorgeous, followed behind before flashing a million dollar smile and holding out her hand. “Aspen Green.”

I smiled and took their hands, introducing myself.

I looked between all four kids, the boys sitting on the floor in front of the TV playing Xbox, and the girls standing in the foyer with Blake.

Amy must have seen me looking between them.

“Two sets of twins,” she said, popping a carrot stick into her mouth as she added carrots to a roasting pan and slid the pan into the oven.

“Oh. Are you guys all...oh...nevermind.” I didn’t want to use the “politically incorrect” words for anything, so better to just be quiet.

“Yeah, we’re all brothers and sisters...biologically.” Quinn said from the floor.

“Oh, okay,” I said, not certain whether I should ask any more questions.

Amy walked over to the sofa and sat down, indicating a spot on the other sofa for me to sit.

I walked over and sat politely, still feeling a little unsure, like I wasn’t sure what was okay to ask or say.

“No need to be nervous,” Amy said with a smile as she handed me the glass. “We’re an open book...and we don’t bite.”

“Most of the time!” Marcus quipped.

I giggled and felt more comfortable immediately.

“So two sets of twins? That’s pretty intense,” I said casually.

Amy nodded. “Yeah, when they were little...it was pretty intense. It becomes your normal though. It’s all we know. A house full of kids.”

“Did you always want a large family?” I asked, taking a sip of my water.

Amy grinned and winked. “Well,
I
did. The husband, not so much. He wanted two kids, but after Peyton and Marcus came home that changed pretty quickly.”

“They didn’t all come at the same time?” I asked curiously.

Amy shook her head. “Nope. Aspen and Quinn were in another foster home first, but we pushed like hell to have them placed here with their siblings, and eventually they were.”

“Well that’s good!” I said.

She looked between her kids adoringly before sighing and nodding.

“You have other kids like Blake? Um...permanent connections?”

“Haha. Yes...permanent connections. That’s the PC way to say it. They’re all our kids though,” Amy said, laughing. “Yes, we have six adopted kids. Peyton, Marcus, Aspen, and Quinn you’ve met. Then there’s Ariana and Iris, who will be home soon with Dave. Then our other kids: Blake and James, our boys; then there’s Trinity, Marissa, and Kristen...our girls.”

My eyes widened with awe. “Wow.”

Amy shrugged as if I was shocked by the day’s weather forecast. “It’s just our family. We didn’t have them all at once, remember. We are limited to no more than eight children under eighteen at a time. The most we’ve ever had is six children living here. Granted, Blake made seven for a while, but he was an adult and living here
while in school, so that doesn’t really count.”

Blake finished chatting with his sisters and made his way to sit next to me on the couch.

“How many bedrooms do you have?” I asked looking around.

Blake and Amy laughed before Peyton’s quiet voice answered from behind me. “Three. And please, Lord, do not get her started.”

My eyes darted in between them not understanding their private joke.

Luckily Blake spoke up. “We were hardly deprived of space. Mom feels very strongly about children sharing rooms. You could seriously open up a two hour long conversation about this subject.”

Before I even knew what I was saying, my gums went flapping and I opened my stupid mouth to say, “Oh, God...no judgement here! Where I come from, entire families live in one room. I was just curious.”

My eyes widened with the realization that I opened my mouth and spoken about my past, opening the door to more questions.

Blake squeezed my hand and he looked at me, his eyes almost saying ‘I told you so.’

Damn him.

Quinn spoke up, never looking away from the TV as he did. “You live in a crack house too?”

My eyes widened at surprise for how blunt of a question he asked.

Amy looked in his direction and sighed. “Quinn, remember what I said about asking people questions like that?”

Quinn scooted back a little, but still kept his eyes fixated on the screen. “People don’t like rude questions.”

Peyton giggled behind me and came to sit on the other side of me, scooting close.

Blake leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Quinn and Aspen
both have high-functioning autism, so excuse their bluntness.”

“Ohh,” I said with understanding.

Peyton put her dainty hands in her lap and then looked at me with big dark brown eyes. “So where are you from, Asha?”

I don’t know why I suddenly felt comfortable. Maybe it’s because I knew all of these kids had traumatic histories too. Almost like group therapy, but without the therapist. I wasn’t bothered by her question anymore.

“Oh, um, I was born in India. I moved to America when I was thirteen to live with my dad after my mom died.” I answered honestly.

“Oh. So you were in, like, a village? That’s why people all shared one room?” Peyton asked, her eyes searching mine.

“No. I’m from Kolkata actually. Big city. In poorer parts of the city it’s still very common for entire families to share one room.”

“Oh, so you were poor then?” Quinn asked.

Marcus slapped his brother in the back of the head. “Shut up. That’s so rude! God!”

“Um, sort of. Yes, we were poor,” I answered him, not wanting to leave the question open.

I glanced towards Blake who was watching me with pride and then glanced towards Amy, who was searching me as if she were analyzing me.

Peyton put her hand on my knee and then said one of the deepest things I’ve ever heard from such a young kid, “It’s okay. You don’t have be ashamed. Our birth mom was poor too. There’s no shame in a past, only shame in what you do with it.”

A tear threatened to escape, but I forced myself not to cry. “Thank you, Peyton,” I said, putting my free hand on top of hers.

She grinned and then stood up to join her brothers on the floor.

I glanced at Amy again, who was watching her daughter with deep love pouring from her eyes.

“She is definitely her mother’s daughter.” Blake said, eyeing Amy teasingly.

“Yep,” Amy answered simply with a smile.

The door burst open and two older girls came rushing in followed by a smiling man I assumed to be Dave.

Dave was jolly looking guy. There was no way to describe him. Someone you both wanted to hug, but was big enough that you would think twice before crossing. He had dark skin, dark brown eyes, and a goatee. He was wearing a Bengals shirt and jeans with Converses.

The girls were clearly biologically sisters, though one appeared to be older. The older girl had a short, spiky hair cut that was died platinum blonde and she wore a faded Breathing Carolina shirt with ripped jeans. The younger girl had dirty blonde hair that was braided into French braid pigtails and wore skinny jeans and a Hollister shirt.

“Hey mom,” the girl with the short hair said as she approached Amy and gave her a hug.

She was followed by the younger girl who hugged but didn’t say anything.

“Girls, where’s your manners? Say hello to our guest.” She motioned in my direction.

“Oh, hey, what’s up? Ariana Green.” The older girl said holding out her hand.

“Iris Green,” the younger girl said, in a voice that was barely a whisper.

Peyton hopped up from the floor and held Iris’ hand. “Come on. Let’s go in our room, okay?”