Angel of Redemption (55 page)

“Why?” she asks, frowning.

“Because he’s my brother!”

“Oh. Well, shit.”

I start laughing. “I’m sure Warren would love to
hear all about it, though.”

Sara’s face lights up like a little kid
’s
on Christmas morning. “We can still talk about sex with Dean, right?”

“Um, that depends.”

“On what?”

“What you want to know.”

“You’ve always told me everything, right down to
the funky curve in Brody’s shorter-than-average penis.”

I snort loudly. It’s true—Brody’s penis was
a little weird.

“At least tell me he’s got a big dick, please?”

My eyes widen. I don’t know why. Sara
’s
right—ever since we’ve been friends, I’ve always told her everything
about my dates. But for some reason, I want to keep Dean’s details to myself.
Sara’s pouted lip and puppy-dog eyes make it hard for me to deny her entirely,
though. I roll my eyes.

“He’s larger than average. How’s that?” Her face
drops into a fierce scowl. I let out an annoyed breath. “Fine. It’s lung
piercing. My vagina’s gonna ache for at least a week.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She grins. “Oh!
Maybe we can go out on doubles and stuff.”

“Dean and I aren’t dating. We were just letting
off a little steam together.” It physically pains me to say that out loud. It
makes it sound like what happened between us was casual. I
’ve done
casual. What Dean and I had—the way it felt—that wasn’t casual. But
there’s no way I’m going to admit that I want something more serious with him.
Not even to my best friend. I don’t want to get my hopes up.

“Huh?”

“We’re still just friends.”

She narrows her eyes, studying me for way too
long. “Was he bad?” she gasps. “Holy shit, he was terrible, wasn’t he?”

“What? No. No! Why would I have lots and lots of
sex with a man who was terrible?”

“Hoping it got better?” She snickers, and I glare
at her.

“No. He wasn’t bad. It was
…” I can feel my
cheeks heating up a little thinking about our weekend together. “It was
extremely nice.”

Sara frowns. “Was he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t understand. How do you have amazing
sex with a guy you’ve been lusting after for months and not want more?”

I sigh. I don’t know what to tell her. It isn’t
as simple as wanting more. Of course I want more, but I
’m not sure Dean
does.

“It’s okay,” Sara says, taking my hand. “I’m
sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine.” I shrug. “I don’t know what’s going
on, and I’m not going to force it. We’re having fun.”

“Well that’s good, then.” She grabs my hand and
lies back on my bed, taking me with her. We lie next to each other in silence
for a second before she turns her head to look at me. “I’m in love with your
brother.”

I grin while staring up at the ceiling.
“I
know.”

* * *

I don’t hear from Dean for
the rest of the day or night. Not that we agreed on a specific time or even day
that we would talk. Sara and Andy recall parts of their trip to Napawhile we
eat dinner and drink a bottle of wine they brought home from one of the
vineyards.

I watch them together
—smiling,
laughing, holding hands. What they feel for each other is palpable, written in
every movement. They gravitate toward each other without realizing. It makes me
both happy and sad at the same time. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m envious. Is
that what I want? Is that what I want with Dean? I honestly don’t know. We are
so different from Andy and Sara. Andy was raised by a successful single mother after
his father passed away of leukemia when he was two. Karen loved him and cared
for him. They’ve always been close. He was a straight-laced kid and never got
into any trouble. He played sports, went to college and then law school. Sara
was raised in a middle class, two-parent household. She was a cheerleader in
high school and on the dance team in college. She’s never done anything harder
than alcohol and nicotine.

Dean and I have baggage
—emotional
and physical. We’re like vases that were once shattered and put back together
with glue. There are cracks everywhere. Dean’s are jagged and chipped.
Noticeable. Mine aren’t as visible, but if you look closely, you can still see
them. In the eyes of people like Richard, we’re trash, useless and unsightly,
but I don’t care. I like who I am. I like who Dean is. I just wish Dean liked
who he is.

I smile unintentionally as I think about what my
stepfather’s reaction would be to Dean. I can just see the vein in his neck
popping out, his face turning red, steam pouring from his ears. The vision in
my mind is comical.

“What are you smiling at?” Andy asks, tilting his
head.

“Nothing,” I answer with a shake of my own. “Sorry.”

Sara goes home to sleep in her own bed tonight. I
turn away as she and Andy say their good-byes. When she’s gone, he sits down
next to me on the sofa.

“I’m glad you had a good weekend,” I say quietly.
“You look tired, though. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“I am tired,” he admits. “But I want to talk.”

“About?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You seem a little off. What
happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

He shakes his head and lets out a breath. “I miss
you, buttercup. It feels like we don’t see each other very much anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s mostly my fault. I’ve been spending a
lot of time with Sara.”

I smile at him. “You’re allowed to have a life,
Andy. That’s what happens when you get into a relationship.”

“Are you in a relationship?” he asks bluntly.

“No,” I answer without pause.

“Really? Because I’ve seen the way he looks at
you, Kay.”

“It’s complicated. We’re friends. Did you and
Sara plan dual attacks or is it just a coincidence?”

“Huh?”

“The sixty questions? Did you split them up to
tag team me?”

“No. Jesus, Kayla. What the hell?”

I sit up, a sudden and intense irritation slicing
through me. “When you told me about you and my best friend, what did I do?”
Andy opens his mouth, but I interrupt his answer. “I supported you. I didn’t
question you. I didn’t question her. You’re adults, you can make decisions for
yourself. The only thing I ask is that you don’t hurt each other, because I don’t
want to have to choose sides.”

“Kayla, I
—”

“What have I gotten since I’ve started hanging
out with Dean? Warnings and distrust. I get that you’ve spent the last ten
years taking care of me, Andy. I know that I’ve made bad decisions and gotten
into big messes, but I don’t deserve this.” I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the
tears not to fall. I miss one. I feel my brother wipe it away with the pad of
his thumb.

“I’m sorry, buttercup. You’re right.”

Guilt flows through me. I know a big part of this
mini-meltdown is my own frustration. I’m taking it out on Andy, and I don’t
mean to. That isn’t to say I don’t mean what I’ve said, however.

“I won’t butt in anymore,” Andy promises.

“Thank you.”

I sit next to him for the next half hour watching
television before finally giving in to my exhaustion and heading to my room for
the night. I strip down to my underwear and am about to pull on a pair of sleep
shorts and a tank when I see Dean’s shirt flung over the arm of my chair. That’s
not where I put it.

He left it here. Did he do it on purpose? I pick
it up and bring it to my nose, inhaling. His scent is intoxicating. I hum
happily and slip it on over my head. I’m even happier to find that my sheets
smell like him, too. Not just his aftershave, but him. Us. Memories of last
night flood through my head. The way his hands explored my body, ghosting in
some places, needy and urgent in others. The way he held my hips as he entered
me over and over. He seemed so focused on bringing me to the edge, holding me
there until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Then he pushed me, and I fell. I’ve
never felt like that before with any man, and I can’t imagine feeling it with
anyone else. And I have no idea where to go from here.

Kayla

Monday morning comes hard
and fast.

“This is not even funny,” I groan, stumbling into
the kitchen. I didn
’t sleep well. A nightmare about Logan crashing his
car woke me up at 2:00 a.m., and I tossed and turned for the next four hours.
Then I fell into a deep sleep precisely thirty minutes before my alarm went
off.

Andy laughs. “Oh, it’s kinda funny. Rough sleep?”

“I feel like someone put a two-ton rock on top of
me last night.” I pour myself a cup of coffee. It burns my tongue as I chug it,
but all I want is the jolt of caffeine to hit me as quickly as possible.

“You’ve got sheet marks on your face, buttercup.”

“Shut up! I don’t care. Do you think it’s
possible to consume caffeine intravenously? Because I’d pay out of pocket for
that.”

“No,” he snorts. “Go take a shower, it
’ll
help. I’ve got to be in court this morning. I’ll see you later.”

I grunt a reply and refill my mug.

I’m half an hour late to the office. Everyone is
already there, working
—everyone except Warren, mysteriously. I sit
down at my desk and power up my computer just as Kate walks in with a case
binder and hands it to Sara.

“New case.”

Sara’s lip curls up in annoyance. “Thanks,” she
says sarcastically. “I’ll put my other thirty cases on hold.”

Kate ignores her. “Good morning,” she says to me.
“You okay?”

I must look as rough as I feel. I nod.

“Where’s Warren?”

“He called in.” Kate frowns.

“Sick?” I asked, arching a curious eyebrow.
Warren never calls in sick.

“In Brazil. Apparently, he felt he needed to
escort his gala date home.”

I snort. Now
that’s
exactly the
kind of calling in Warren would do.

“She must have done some pretty amazing ego
stroking,” I joke, realizing quickly that no one else has a clue what I’m
talking about.

“Go ahead and laugh, Kayla,” Kate says with a
shake of her head. “He was supposed to be on call today. You all get to cover
his cases.
”

“Well this day keeps getting better and better,” I
grumble.

“How
was
the gala? I saw your
picture in the paper. You looked beautiful.”

“Thank you. It was good.”

“You also looked very cozy with Dean Wyatt.” I
clench my jaw together and force a smile. “I trust that your personal
relationship with him isn’t going to get in the way of your professional one.”

I shake my head. I
’m irritated that she’s questioning
me. I’ve always done my job impeccably. “Nope.”

“Good.” Kate turns around and heads back to her
office, while I let my forehead fall to my desk.

“Aw, come on, honey. It’ll get better.” Dana
says, trying to cheer me up.

“I hate Mondays,” I whine.

I’m extremely busy for the rest of the day. I have
to supervise three parental visits. The first one is across town at a private
family reunification agency we contract through. The other two are at the
office, but one of the mothers shows up high, and then throws a fit when I
refuse to let her see her child. She’s finally dragged out of the waiting room
by security, so I sit around trying to entertain a one-year-old until I get the
okay to return him to his foster home. In the meantime, I have to change a
shitty diaper. What the hell do these kids eat that makes them smell so bad?

I have two court reports to type up and send off
and a termination of parental rights meeting. Somewhere in the middle, I get a
phone call from a pissed-off father who just got out of jail and wants to know
why he wasn’t contacted when his kid was removed from his girlfriend’s care.
This caught me off guard, because the man that called me is not the man I was
told was the father. It takes me half an hour to get a word in edgewise, and
when I do, it’s basically to tell him to stop screaming profanities at me.

All day, I try not to think about Dean and why he
hasn’t called me. I’m not that girl. I’ve never pined over a guy, and I won’t
start now. By the time I get home, all I want to do is take a hot bath and
climb into bed. But I
’ll have to wait—Andy’s made dinner, a lemon
chicken recipe from Karen’s stash. We sit down to eat, just the two of us.

“Where’s Sara?”

“At her sister’s.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t you see her today?”

“For like two seconds this morning.”

My phone starts ringing from somewhere, but I
have no idea where I put it down, and Andy and I are in the middle of dinner.
So, I fight every single urge in my body to get up. I do, however, eat a little
faster, giving myself heartburn. Did I mention how much I hate Mondays?

When we’re finished, I do the dishes. Now I’m
avoiding my cellphone. I
’m afraid to get my hopes up. Andy sits down to
do some work while watching TV, and I finally set out to find my phone. It’s in
my purse and takes me a minute to dig out.

“Hey, I’m going to take a bath and go to bed,
”
I announce.

“All right. Good night.”

Once in my room, I glance at the screen. One
missed call from my dad. I turn on the water and listen to the message he’s
left while waiting for the tub to fill.

“Just
calling to check in and see how you are. Karen would like to give Claire a
little gift for her birthday, but wants to run it by you first, so give us a
call. Love you, honey.”

I’m not disappointed, I’m not disappointed, I’m
not disappointed. I’m
…a little bit disappointed.

I try to focus on the phone call. I love that
Karen is thinking of Claire. She and my dad have been so caring toward my
little sister. It can
’t be easy for my dad, knowing that she’s the
product of my mother’s affair, but he never lets it show.

Peeling my work clothes off, I step into the
water just as my phone rings. It echoes through the bathroom, startling me, and
I snatch it up.
Dean
. My heart speeds up exponentially. I let it
ring again before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing?”

I sit down on the edge of the tub and touch the
water with my fingertips to gauge the temperature. “Getting ready to take a
bath and relax.”

“Oh, uh, do you want me to let you go?” he asks.

“No. It’s okay. I can talk to you while soaking.”
I hope I’m giving him a good visual. By the way his voice tenses, I think it’s
working. I step into the water, and I swear I hear him moan. “Dean?”

“Yeah, I’m here. How was your day?”

“Um, busy. Incredibly, horrifyingly busy.” I
chuckle. “How was yours?”

“Yeah. Long. I meant to call you last night.”

“Oh. Uh, that’s okay. Andy, Sara, and I had
dinner and just chilled out. I was tired so I went to bed kinda early.”

“Why were you so tired?”

My grin cannot be contained. “I have no idea, Dean.
It was the oddest thing. I felt like I’d been fucked up one side and down the
other.”

“Wow.” He whistles. “I felt the same way last
night. Weird.”

I giggle.
“So what’s up?”

“Nothin
’. I’m sitting in my office being
bored.”

“Nothing to do? Poor baby,” I tease.

“Plenty to do. I just don’t want to do it. I was
hoping you could distract me.”

“Haven’t you had enough?” I ask, echoing his
question from yesterday morning.

“Never enough, sweetheart. Never enough. Talk to
me.”

“You want it dirty or regular?”

“Ha! That’s a silly question.”

I love the banter. He’s being playful tonight. I
was worried that things would get weird, and they still might, but right now,
this is working.

“Are you naked?”

“I’m in the bath, Dean. What do you think?”

“That’s not dirty talk.”

“Sorry, let me try that again.” I clear my throat
and take a deep breath. “Yes, baby, I’m naked and wet, just for you.” I’m
trying to make my voice sound sultry. I have no idea if it’s working.

“Wait. Is this Kayla Brooks or
1-900-Play-With-Me?”

“Call that number often, do you? You told me to
talk dirty, and now you’re telling me I sound like a phone-sex operator.
Thanks.”

“I’m sorry. Keep going.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Fine.”

“Is that a real number?”

Dean laughs loudly. “I have no idea, but it
sounds good, doesn’t it? Are you going to come see the boys this week?”

“And that’s one way to kill the mood. Yes.
Wednesday is Logan’s last IL session.”

“Really? His last?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

“Are you gonna be around?” I ask hopefully.

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Finish your bath. I’ll talk
to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Dean.” I hang up and set my phone on
the floor. Relaxing is much easier tonight. When I get out of the tub, I stare
at Dean’s shirt, contemplating how pathetic it would be to wear it again. Not
that
pathetic, I decide.

* * *

“You’re done, kiddo!”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You are for another month.”

Logan frowns. “So that’s it?”

“Yeah. Unless you have other things you want to
go over. You have your license, bank account, and cellphone. We’ve gone over
basic needs and care, housing, finances, education, and social issues. How do
you feel? Do you feel ready?”

“Does it matter?” he mumbles, his head hanging.

I put my hand on his forearm gently. “It does to
me. What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothin
’.”

“You’re acting weird.”

Logan shrugs. “I got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” He doesn’t answer right away, but
picks at his fingernails. “Are they gonna kick me out next month?”

“What? No.”

“But I’m turning eighteen. I mean, I can go if I
want, right?”

“Logan,” I sigh. “Maybe we should sit down with
Dean and Aiden to talk about things.”

“I don’t need to. I just want to know what’s
gonna happen.”

“I’m not discharging you from care until you’re
ready. You can stay until your nineteenth birthday.”

Logan looks at me like I’m crazy. “But if I want
to go?”

“Legally, you’ll be an adult. You can make your
own decisions.”

He lowers his head and nods. Something is
definitely going on with him. “Will you help me find a place to live?”

“When you’re ready to be discharged, we’ll all
help, okay? But you need to graduate first. You’ve filled out the application
forms that your guidance counselor gave you and turned them in, yes?”

“Yeah, she helped me with those, but I think it’s
too late.”

“It’s never too late. You know people who know
people.” I dip my head so that he can see me and smile. What I see breaks my
heart. His eyes are glassy and a couple of tears are streaming down his cheeks.
He doesn’t even bother to wipe them away. “Sweetie, what’s the matter?”

“I’m not ready.” He sniffs.

“Okay. Look. This isn’t something that’s going to
be sudden, okay?”

“I know.”

“We’ve got time. I’ll talk to Dean. We’ll all sit
down and make a plan. Relax.”

He nods. I look up and see Dean leaning against
the wall, his legs crossed in front of him, his arms folded against his chest.
He’s got his knit cap on, and his jaw is scruffy. I glance back down at the
man-boy in front of me and put my hand under his chin so that he looks at me.

“I’m not going to leave you, Logan. You’ll be
okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

Logan notices Dean standing across the room and
wipes his face. “I got homework to do,” he mumbles. Dean pats him on the back
as he’s walking out. When he’s gone, I stand up.

“Hi.” I smile.

“Hi.”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Dean nods slowly and motions for me to go in
front of him. When we get to his office he shuts the door behind us. I lean
against the edge of his desk and curl my finger to bring him closer.

“Kayla,” he sighs, shaking his head. “We can’t.
Not here.”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me on your desk,
Dean. Although
…” I pat it with my hand. “I think it could handle us.” I’m
trying to get a rise out of him, but he doesn’t appear to be in the mood. His
ups and downs are going to do a number on my blood pressure. “Relax. I’m
kidding.” I frown.

“What was that all about?” he asks, not looking
at me.