Nicole and Jackson trot off toward the house. When they’re out of sight he says to the boys, “She’s a nice girl, I get it, but remember there are no relationships allowed in North House. You guys don’t want to screw this up; you’re in the best place you’ve ever been. Finish school and make something of yourself. For now, focus on you—become the best men you can be. Then someday, you’ll have something to offer to someone special.”
When he sees they’re totally defused, he pulls each of them in under an arm for a half bear hug. “You guys are friends. Don’t let anything get between that.”
Brandon and Tyler make up just as Nicole and Jackson come back with the lemonade. Everybody drinks up.
“Okay, everyone get cleaned up for dinner. Showers included.”
Groans rise from all, but they head inside, except for Lily who clings to my leg.
When they’re out of sight, I hear a clear sigh of relief from Callahan. He folds his body, supporting himself with his hands on his knees. “I really thought the two of them were going to go all out.”
Although my vocabulary toward him today has been all business, consisting of little else than thank you, okay, got it, and unh-huh… he deserves more.
He looks rather shocked when I say, “I think you handled it brilliantly.”
Max and Lily are already asleep when Jackson finally comes upstairs from his earned good-behavior time for the Xbox 360.
“It was a really great day, right?” I whisper to Jackson while I fold new clothes for the kids from the North House community closet into their drawers.
“So cool!” he whispers back as he bounces into the bed. “The best.”
“What was your favorite part?” I roll the blanket up over him.
“Video games… and playing basketball.”
“That was fun,” I agree.
“Even doing school. I miss school, and the online thing was cool. I didn’t like the teachers or the classes in detention. You couldn’t think; you were way too busy trying to be cool so you didn’t get your ass kicked.”
God, I hate that he was ever there.
“Dinner was soooooooo good too! Back at juvie, we were fed thawed out or microwaved meat-and-gravy-potato-stuff. Always gross.” He wrinkles up his nose.
“I’m glad you enjoyed dinner. Connor is a pretty good cook too. Next time he makes omelets for breakfast, you should eat one of those with your Reese’s Puffs.” I kiss him on the head.
“We didn’t have omelets.” He looks at me like I’m weird. “Connor made himself and all the kids who wanted them scrambled eggs.”
I meander through the upstairs hallway, contemplating Callahan and omelets when I spy a bookshelf. As my fingers graze the delicate, worn spines, my mind wanders.
What brought Callahan here when he was a teenager? What were the catalysts in his life that made him who he is today? He’s so good with the kids. Was there a father in his life before Cade? What happened to his mom? What drives him now?
I choose a thick novel. One dense enough to give me lots of reading material so I can completely avoid Mr. Callahan for the week.
Turning back toward my room, my steps falter.
I am thirsty. Maybe I should go to the kitchen and get a drink to bring back up with me.
Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do. He probably won’t be in the kitchen anyway. Everyone shared the responsibility of cleaning it up after dinner. He may not even be downstairs at all.
Yeah, probably in his room.
Quietly, I go down the steps, my bare feet hardly making any noise.
The teenagers are still up, hanging out in the big family room, playing video games. They must have been given extra time too.
That means Callahan’s still awake somewhere, but I don’t see him in there with them.
I creep softly to the kitchen and listen at the door. I hear nothing, so I take the chance and open it. Lo and behold, Callahan is sitting at the table, also with a book. It’s opened nearly to the center. I think maybe I have a chance to back up and escape, but no such luck. He senses my presence and looks up.
“Hey. All tucked in?” He smiles tentatively, like he’s not sure what to expect.
“Yeah. I saw the teens got some extra gaming time.”
He shrugs guiltily.
A second later, the teakettle whistles. “Debra has this chai decaf. Would you like a cup?”
“Sure.” Debra has good taste; it’s my favorite. “What are you reading?” I’ve got to make some conversation until I can get the hell out of here.
“The Kite Runner.” He fills two mugs. “Third time I’ve read it.”
“Hosseini is extraordinary.”
He nods slowly, considering me. “I was thinking of hanging out in the living room. Would you like to join me?”
I should run. Grab my book, take my tea, bring myself right back upstairs and stay put.
Stay away from him! everything inside me screams. But my curiosity feels stronger than my better judgement.
My legs don’t move. As if my body has become too heavy. I know what he did for the kids, as if maybe he really wants to do the right thing. But can I trust that? Or him? And why does trust have to be the factor to keep me downstairs?
Because I may say or do the wrong thing in front of him, and my foothold in the case could crumble.
What if Callahan being all amiable is part of a ploy to throw me off my game? Cade and Debra may not even know his true motives.
But what if he is being completely sincere? What if he really does want to help them, despite his position on the case?
But what if his job is threatened? What will be more important to him then? A few more kids passing through the system? Or his career?
Who is Connor Callahan?
That’s it! I’m making myself crazy. I’m going upstairs.
“Maybe for a few minutes.” UGH! What’s wrong with me?
I follow him into a neat living room, obviously not the family room. This one isn’t geared for the kids. More like the place where the adults go to relax. He sits on the couch, and I cozy myself into a fluffy armchair across from it. Setting my tea on the end table beside me, I open my book.
I read and reread the same sentence like fifteen times as I consider things about Callahan I have no business considering. The black type begins to blur against the white page.
You don’t have to figure him out, Elle. Relax. Bringing the mug to my lips, I inhale the aromatic cinnamon and clove spice, feeling calm spread through me. I can handle this.
Minutes pass. I can sense his presence in the room and force myself not to look at him. You know, maybe he invited me in here to sit out of common courtesy and nothing more.
My eyes scan the paragraph again, and I realize I’m on the same page I was on when I first sat down and opened the book.
GAH!
Callahan’s voice shatters the silence around us. “Saint Sophia.”
“Excuse me?” I look up, startled.
“Saint Sophia,”—his eyes shift to my throat—“patron saint of orphans.”
He’s referring to my pendant… Oh yeah. I’d forgotten his original curiosity over it.
“Are you Catholic?” I try.
“Nope,” he answers with a bit of a smirk, as if he has a secret or knows something I don’t. Maybe it’s just my already overactive imagination. The little smile seems friendly enough, as opposed to cocky or off-putting, but it raises my curiosity.
“Then,” I challenge good naturedly, “how are you so familiar with her?”
He levels my gaze with a return challenge. “Are you Catholic?”
I deliberately hold my mouth closed because it’s about to fall wide open. This crazy sensation erupts inside me, like a berserk hamster got loose from its wheel and is running circles in my belly.
“Maybe.” I’m totally not Catholic.
He regards me suspiciously, then hitches in a breath as if he’s about to say something else. I feel the suspense rising as I lean forward, w
aiting for his next word. Why would he care so much about my pendant?
Before he has a chance to continue, Brandon comes through the doorway, stealing our attention.
“Hey,” he says, running a nervous hand through his already tousled blond hair. He leans against the threshold, his Guns and Roses tee hanging loose over the hips of his gray sweatpants.
“Hi, Brandon,” I offer.
He presses his lips in a tight smile.
“What’s up?” Callahan squares his attention on the teenager.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt.
“Of course.” Callahan inches over, indicating that the rest of the couch is available for him to sit.
Brandon’s eyes dart to mine then away again as quickly.
“I can give you guys some space. Just reading my book anyway.” I unfold my legs out from under me and set my feet on the floor.
Brandon says, “It’s cool. Stay.”
“What’s going on?” Callahan asks as Brandon sits on the couch.
“My dad called.”
“How did that go?”
Brandon’s entire body sags. “He wants me to come home.”
“What do you want?”
“To not be hit anymore.”
His answer slams me in the gut.
“You don’t have to go back,” Callahan tells him in all seriousness.
“It was my fault. I was acting up, getting all mouthy and shit.”
“You don’t ever deserve to get hit. Your dad is wrong and needs help. You’re smart. I think you know that.”
Brandon nods, but it’s not convincing. “It’s only a matter of time before I get transferred to another foster home. There’s no way to know how they’re going to treat me. Sometimes it’s worse than being with my dad.” He shakes his head. “I think at least with my dad, I know what to expect. And it’s home, you know?”
Brandon lifts his eyes to Callahan’s. He looks so lost; I just want to go over and hold him.
Callahan nods slowly. “It isn’t right that the adults in your life who are supposed to be responsible and take care of you don’t. This advice I’m going to give you is going to sound suckish, but it’ll save your life.”
“How do you mean?” Brandon listens intently.
“You need to accept it, and then make the decision.”
“What decision.” Brandon looks totally confused. Even I’m wondering where Callahan is going with this.
“Decide you’re going to take care of yourself. That you are going to treat yourself the way the adults in your life should be treating you. That you are going to love yourself more.”
Brandon whispers dejectedly, “But sometimes I hate myself.”
“That’s just a reflection of the asshole adults who’ve told you they hated you with their words and actions. You’re more than that, Brandon.”
“How do I do it?” Brandon shakes his head like it’s impossible.
“Don’t put yourself in questionable situations and keep out of trouble. No breaking curfew, no drugs or smoking, no unprotected sex. Stay in school, graduate. Get a job and save your money. Then choose a trade school or college; there are grants and scholarship programs to get you through. Own your life. Respect yourself, even when no one else does. I guarantee you will find who you are here…” He touches Brandon’s heart. “And who you’re meant to be. And always keep coming to The Core. It was my lifeline.”
Brandon swipes his arm across his eyes. “You did it, right?”
“Yeah. I won’t lie, it wasn’t easy. My dad treated me like shit, so I thought I was. Then I came to North House. Cade gave me this very speech. At first, I thought it was crap, but I listened and worked my way through school, kept coming to The Core and made the commitment to keep my mind and body strong and let nothing throw me off course. I had a lot of pain to get rid of, like you, but you can make it to the other side. Keep to your path and make decisions you can be proud of.”
He nods, digesting it all.
“Brandon, I was in fourteen group homes and foster placements, not to mention three detention facilities, but now I’m an attorney. You can do and be anything. You’re here in this universe for a reason, and now you have people gathered around you who truly care about you. Follow their lead.”
“Thanks, Connor.” Brandon reels in his thoughts. “You’re right. I won’t go back to my dad, he’s way too toxic. As much as it sucks, I only have two more years in the system; I’ll stay focused on school, go where they put me and deal with it. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get to stay here at North House.”
“What’s taking you so long, Brandon?!” Tyler’s voice trails in from the living room. “I’m getting my ass kicked in here!”
Callahan continues, “Before I leave, I’ll give you my number, address and email—you can call me or knock on my door anytime you need to.”
“So, if I get kicked out in the middle of the night...?” Brandon squints doubtfully.
“My door’s open. Anytime,” he emphasizes. “And if you lose the info, North House and The Core will always have it. We’re friends now. I’ll watch your back.”
“Thanks, Connor.”
“No problem.” He reaches over and pulls Brandon into a hug.
The two embrace, and I’m wiping tears from my eyes before either of them catches me.
“Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something, that you aren’t good enough or that you don’t deserve success. It’s a load of shit. You control your future.”
“Thanks, Connor. You’re the best counselor I’ve ever had.”
“BRANDON!!” Jordan shouts.
“Go on.” Callahan smiles. “I’ll give you guys an extra half hour on the game, but then it’s lights out.”
“Awesome!!” Brandon jumps and heads into the other room, announcing the added time to Jordan.
I just stare at Callahan in awe, amazed at how he handled that, how he seems to handle everything, with patience and sensitivity.
Then there’s that itchy feeling of recognition that keeps tagging the back of my brain.
I know him. I know I know him, but I can’t figure it out.
My curiosity is on complete overdrive, and my resolve to stay away and be all business begins to crumble. “What’s your story, Callahan?”
“What?” He looks up with wide eyes, like he may not believe I’m asking.
“Where are you from? How did you end up here? Right here?” I point down to his seat.
Shock paints his expression. “Um… my dad was a real piece of work. When my mom finally couldn’t take it anymore and left him, she didn’t take me with her.”
I cringe. “How old were you?”
“Eleven.” He pauses for a moment. “Keep going?”
“Please.”
“Without her protection, I became his ever-available punching bag. After a few months, the school called in social services. They removed me from the house right before my twelfth birthday. I remember it so clearly because no one made me a cake. It was the first year without my mom, and she had always baked one. Even if presents were scarce, she always made sure there was a birthday cake with frosting and candles.” His mouth curves into a bittersweet smile at the memory before he shakes his head. “A few of the places I was sent were as bad as my dad’s house, and like I told Brandon, I got moved a lot. Then I started running.” He shrugs. “I thought I could find my mom.”
“Of course you did.” I fight back tears. I could imagine it perfectly.
“We lived in Minnesota, but she’d always talked about seeing the ocean. I hitchhiked, hopped onto moving trains and stole money for bus tickets to get to California. Was on the streets for years before I got caught. They put me in a string of group homes and detention facilities—that I had a tendency of escaping from—between southern California, Arizona, and New Mexico.”
New Mexico. “What part of New Mexico?”
“Albuquerque.”
Small world. But I’m not ready to give him that information about myself. Still, now I wonder if we’ve crossed paths and maybe that’s why he looks so damn familiar.
“I spent the better half of a year down there before I got myself arrested and transferred back to Minnesota.”
“Arrested? At that age? What did you do?”
“Hmm…” He grins brightly at the memory, as if it’s a good one. “Now that’s a story.”
“I bet.”
Callahan’s eyes hold mine. “Maybe someday I’ll tell it to you.” His words are like a lit match hovering over a line of gasoline. Now I really want to hear that story.
“I got sent here and was lucky enough to be put into The Core program. I was a troublemaker, but Cade took a chance on me anyway. Troublemakers are his specialty,” he reminds me. “I stayed at North House, and Debra and Cade took me under their wing. I never left until I graduated and was accepted to the University of Minnesota with a full scholarship. They became my parents. North House became my home, and the kids who were here during those years became my brothers and sister.”
My whole body warms at the happy ending. “I’m glad you found a home and a family.”
“Me too. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me had they not held out a line.”
“Your mom?”
Callahan shakes his head. “Never found her.”
“I’m sorry.”
He starts to say something else when we both hear Lily cry out.
We jump up at the same time, rushing up the stairs and into her room. Jackson is already by her side, but she’s still thrashing, caught up in a nightmare.
“MOMMY!” she screams.
“Lily, it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s just a dream.” I shake her gently to stir her awake.
When she opens her eyes and sees me and Jackson, her little bottom lip juts into a pout and she begins to sob.
“Oh, baby.” I pull her into my lap and rock her while Callahan stands to the side of the bed, setting a hand on Jackson’s shoulder for comfort.
“Don’t go away, Elle,” Lily cries.
“I’m right here with you.” I hold her a little tighter.
“Don’t ever go away! Don’t go away like Mommy did.” Tears stream over her chubby cheeks. “I love you.”
Risk: An Enemies to Lovers, Second Chance Romance Standalone (Brothers of Ink and Steel) Page 10