The Redemption Series

by Leigh, T. K.

  “They’ve already been through enough with Carla leaving.” I add some milk to my coffee, stir it, then turn to Molly, Gigi peering over her shoulder, a smug look on her face. “They don’t need to go through that again.”

  “They’re not the ones who went through it,” Molly argues. “Sure, Alyssa asked for her mama a lot at first, but she was only two. After a while, she stopped. Charlotte can’t remember ever having a mother, so there’s nothing for her to miss.” Her expression turns compassionate, her brilliant eyes piercing through me. “It’s not the girls, is it?”

  I open my mouth, but she cuts me off.

  “You’re the one who doesn’t want to go through that again. The girls are just a convenient excuse.”

  “They are not,” I protest, although my words lack certainty.

  After Carla left, I put all my energy into my family, my girls included. My father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at an early age and it progressed rapidly. I bought the café from him, saving it from being turned into yet another Starbucks. Once I no longer had hockey in my life, I devoted everything I had into making this place as successful as possible. When I wasn’t running the café, I kept myself busy with my girls, doing everything to make sure they had as normal a childhood as possible and didn’t want for anything. I didn’t start coaching hockey again until two years ago, which was when I handed over the reins of the café to Gigi.

  “If I were worried about going through all that again, would I be dating?”

  “I don’t consider you and that bimbo to be ‘dating’,” Molly retorts without missing a beat. “You won’t be able to use those girls as an excuse forever. At some point, they’ll grow up and start building relationships of their own. Then where will you be? Alone.”

  “Not this again,” I groan, walking away from her, but she’s quick on my heels. I expect Gigi to have something to say at this point. Instead, she remains suspiciously silent, observing me through small eyes, analyzing, assessing, judging.

  “Yes, this again. I just… I don’t get you these days, Drew. I’ve been trying to understand. I really have. But for years now, you’ve successfully caused Brooklyn to shun nearly every guy who was remotely interested in her.”

  “What?” I squint at her, my tone evidencing my disagreement with her statement. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have. You may not notice it, but I have. We all have. So unless you’re willing to finally admit you have feelings for her, feelings strong enough for you to fly off the handle at the news of her engagement, you’d better grow up and support her.”

  “I don’t have time for this right now. I have more important things to worry about today, like getting my team into the championship game.” My voice grows louder with each word I speak. “So, Molly, if you’re done pretending you know what’s best for me when just a few years ago, you probably couldn’t even remember the name of the guy sleeping in your bed, I’ll be on my way.”

  My temper getting the better of me, I storm out of the café before Molly or Gigi can say anything else. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Yes, perhaps I overreacted to Brooklyn’s news. I just don’t want her to make the same mistake I did. That’s all. Nothing more. That ship sailed when I got on that plane and left for college.

  Chapter Five

  Brooklyn

  My mother used to wear a gold locket around her neck. It was small, in the shape of a heart with a diamond in the center, and opened to reveal two photos — my dad on one side, a baby photo of me on the other. I can’t remember much about her. Even if I close my eyes and try to recall the sound of her voice, the feel of her arms, the smell of her perfume, I can’t. But I remember that locket. I imagine her wearing it as she sang me to sleep, as she kissed my head, as she whispered how much she loved me.

  In my childhood, I’d often have déjà vu where I’d see that locket. It wasn’t until the day of high school graduation I knew it was real, not a product of my overactive imagination. Just before I was about to leave for the ceremony, my father handed me a long, white box. When I opened it and saw the locket, I was overjoyed, grateful to be able to carry a piece of my mother with me always. The instant he secured it around my neck that day, I felt her — her fire, her strength, her love.

  As I toy with that very necklace, about to walk into the house Molly shares with Noah, I try to summon all those things once more. I’ve avoided this all day — her calls, her texts, her voice messages. And there were a lot. I just wasn’t ready to face what she had to say after witnessing my argument with Drew. I’m still not.

  Taking a deep breath, I use my key to let myself in. “Hello, hello,” I call in a sing-song manner. The sound of laughter hits me instantly, interspersed with that of an announcer’s voice blaring from the television.

  “Auntie Brook!” two voices shout. I turn the corner to see Alyssa and Charlotte jumping up from the floor of the den, rushing toward me.

  “Are you here to watch Daddy’s team win?” Charlotte asks.

  “Of course.” I force a smile. They’re too young to read too much into my lackluster response.

  “Well, come on.” Alyssa tugs me toward the oversized sofa. “It’s about to start!”

  She plops on the floor in front of the screen, not wanting to miss a second of the action. She’s sporting the school’s colors, wearing a kid-sized hockey jersey with Brinks above the number 19, Drew’s old number, on the back. Their father’s influence is clear in the way both girls love everything about hockey. Yes, they play with Barbies and their princess castles, like most other girls, but they also know how to hold a hockey stick, throw a baseball, and shoot a basket. Despite all the challenges facing Drew as a single father, he’s given them everything they need.

  Molly’s eyes find mine as I continue toward the couch where she sits with Noah, his arm draped comfortably around her shoulders. As our gazes lock, I see a thousand questions etched within. I subtly shake my head, wordlessly telling her I don’t want to talk about it. Thankfully, she knows enough not to push the matter, at least not while we’re in the presence of curious ears.

  “Good to see you, Brooklyn.” Noah raises himself to his feet, only having to bend slightly to kiss my cheek. “I hear congratulations are in order.” His tone lifts at the end, almost questioning.

  “I suppose they are.” I still don’t understand why our engagement is such a shock to everyone. We’ve been together for eight months. I know women who married their spouses after only dating them for a substantially shorter amount of time and they’re happy. I can find happiness, too. Can’t I?

  I hate that I’m unable to enjoy this moment. The day should have been spent laughing and smiling with my best friend as we flipped through bridal magazines, circling the dresses I liked. In fact, we did that when we were teenagers. Molly claimed she was planning her wedding to one of the actors from ER, Noah Wyle. It’s ironic she ended up engaged to a doctor named Noah.

  When she asked me who I imagined marrying, I lied, claiming some singer in a boy band or hot actor. In reality, whenever I fantasized about my wedding, I pictured walking down the aisle to Drew. It took me years to realize my adolescent dream of marrying my best friend’s brother was just that — a dream. Now, as I stand on the precipice of planning my actual wedding, I’m uncertain whether I’ve bid farewell to that dream. I’m not sure I want to, although all rationale says I should.

  “Why are you congratulating Auntie Brook?” Alyssa asks.

  I snap my eyes to hers, unsure what to say. Telling Drew I’m marrying Wes was difficult. I never imagined having to tell his kids. Hell, I’ve been engaged for twenty-four hours and still haven’t shared the news with my own father.

  “Because I’m getting married.” My voice is even. Shouldn’t I be squealing the news at the top of my lungs, ready to burst from the excitement?

  “To Daddy?” Charlotte pipes up, no longer interested in the puzzle beginning to take shape on the wood floor.

  “No. To Wes. You
met him a few months ago when he came over for Christmas. Remember?”

  “Why are you marrying him?” Alyssa presses.

  I open my mouth, struggling to come up with a response. What do I say? That I’m still not quite sure myself, but figure it’s the next logical step? That seeing Wes on one knee made me realize I never allowed him in, never allowed any man in, except the one who never wanted me, who still doesn’t want me? That marrying Wes is the only way I can free myself from the hold that man still has on me?

  “Because she loves him.” Molly brings herself to her feet, standing next to me. I glance at her, seeing her arch a brow. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” I address Alyssa once more. “Your auntie Molly’s right. Because I love him.” I swallow hard, acid churning in my stomach.

  “Does this mean you won’t spend time with us anymore?” Charlotte asks in a small voice, her face long.

  “What makes you think that?” I crouch to her level. My tone is serene, reminiscent of the one I use with the kids I see on a daily basis, assuring them they’re safe from the abuse they’ve suffered for too long.

  “Because you won’t need us anymore. You’ll want to have a family of your own and will forget about us.”

  “Oh, Charlotte.” I envelope her in my arms, doing everything I can to ease her fears. “I could never forget about you two. It doesn’t matter I’m not related by blood.” I pull back, meeting her brown eyes. They have small speckles of gold in them, a bit of light in the darkness. Neither Drew nor Alyssa have those. It’s something unique to little Charlotte. “You will always be my family. Nothing will ever come between that. Just because I’m marrying Wes doesn’t mean I’ll spend any less time with you girls. I love playing with you two. That’s not going to stop.”

  “Or you can marry Daddy so you can play with us all the time.”

  My breath catches at her words. It’s a strange observation for a six-year-old, but in my experience, we don’t give kids the credit they deserve. Their inquisitive and eager little minds pick up on more than we think. I wonder what else she’s picked up on from me…and from Drew.

  “These things don’t work that way. Like Auntie Molly said, you get married when you love someone.”

  “You don’t love Daddy?”

  I pinch my lips together, this conversation taking a turn I’m not prepared for. “Of course I do,” I answer honestly. “But in a different way than I love Wes.”

  I pause, my words ringing truer than I anticipated, leaving me stunned. I blink repeatedly, doing my best to stay focused and not think about how different my love for Drew is than my love for Wes. Can my feelings for Wes be labeled as love? Respect. Devotion. Admiration. But love? Love isn’t a word to be tossed around idly. It’s a word that should be given the weight it deserves. It’s the most beautiful and most tragic feeling in the world. I’m not quite sure the way I feel about Wes measures up to that level, at least not yet.

  “There are so many kinds of love. I love your aunt Gigi, your auntie Molly, your uncle Noah. But I don’t love your uncle Noah the same way auntie Molly does.”

  “Damn straight,” Molly mutters under her breath so only I can hear, and I’m thankful for the levity.

  “So even though I love your daddy, it’s not the same.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte’s shoulders fall at the news.

  “But I promise you, both of you…” My eyes float to Alyssa, who stands behind her sister. “Nothing will change. There may just be an extra person at my side on occasion. It’ll be fun.” My voice brightens and I smile. “And you two will get to wear a pretty dress during the wedding as my flower girls.”

  “Really?” Alyssa asks.

  “Of course! There’s no one else I’d rather have.”

  I raise myself to my feet, looking down at them. Their concerned expressions lifting at the thought of getting to play dress-up for a day, they return to their puzzle, both of them talking excitedly about what kind of dress they want to wear for the wedding.

  Blowing out a breath, I look back at Molly and Noah.

  “Wine?” He arches a brow.

  “I could use some.”

  “Red or white?”

  “I’ll get it myself. You guys sit.” I turn away from them and head into the kitchen, pausing at the island.

  My hands grip the counter, my arms supporting my weight as I exhale a long breath. I try to compose myself, to swallow the lump in my throat at how concerned Alyssa and Charlotte were that I’d no longer be a part of their lives. I don’t think that will be the case, but what if it is? What if Wes wants kids right away? How will I juggle that and starting a PhD program? What if Wes doesn’t want children at all? We’ve never discussed it. There’s so much I don’t know about him, about what he wants out of life. My world spins, the walls closing in on me as these questions fill me with unease. What have I gotten myself into?

  “Want to talk about it?” Molly’s voice cuts through and I whip my head toward her.

  “About what?” I ask in an even tone, pretending she hadn’t caught me on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

  “I don’t know. Everything.” She leans against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You didn’t return any of my phone calls or texts today.”

  I avoid her eyes. “My schedule was filled with home visits. Within the span of eight hours, I had over ten kids to check in on. I barely had time to eat, let alone answer a text or phone call. Not to mention submitting a few of my guardian ad litem reports to the court.”

  “That’s never stopped you before.” Molly steps toward me, her eyes seeming to analyze everything about me, from the way my gaze darts, to the way I chew on my bottom lip, to the way I try to shrink into my frame so I can disappear. I’m normally an open book with her…except when it comes to her brother. Some wounds are too painful and are better left scabbed over. “We used to talk all the time between home visits. That’s when I used to bounce story ideas off you.”

  I spin from her, opening the refrigerator door and grabbing an uncorked bottle of chardonnay. “Well, you haven’t seemed to need me lately, have you?” My words come out harsher than I intended, but the events of the day have finally taken their toll on me — Drew’s reaction to my engagement, trying to convince a few of my kids that their foster parents won’t hurt them like their biological parents had, Alyssa’s and Charlotte’s line of questioning. I’ve reached my boiling point.

  “Is that what this is about?”

  I find a wine glass in the cabinet and pour a healthy portion. “What do you mean?” I face her.

  “Your engagement.” She lowers her voice. “You have to admit it sort of came out of the blue. Are you only marrying Wes because I’m engaged, too?”

  “Molly…” I roll my eyes. “No offense, but you two have been engaged for almost a year now and haven’t set a date.”

  She rubs her stomach, grinning. “Well, my baby daddy knocked me up before we could get around to that. He must have some super swimmers because the month I stopped birth control…bam. Preggers.” All it takes is a wink to lighten the atmosphere between us. She’s always had an uncanny ability to do that. No matter how serious I try to be, no matter what I’m going through, she’s always able to put a smile on my face.

  Squeezing her bicep, I meet her eyes. “I’m happy for you, Mols…even if you did put the carriage before the horse.”

  “And it’s a carriage I really enjoy riding, especially with all these pregnancy hormones.” She leans closer. “I’ve always had a healthy sex drive. Hell, I write romance novels for a living and used Noah as a muse for one of my books. But lately…” Her voice grows softer, more secretive. “I’m like a fiend. I swear, I’m wearing poor Noah out.” She pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “It could be the book I just started playing around with.”

  I arch a brow. “And what would that be?”

  “A reverse harem.”

  “Reverse harem?” While I read every singl
e one of Molly’s books and offer my opinion, I’m not up-to-date on all the trends in the publishing industry. Most of my reading lately has been scholarly articles and other professional development books about working with high-risk children. “What does that entail?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like. Instead of one guy sleeping with a bunch of girls…”

  “It’s one girl sleeping with a bunch of guys?”

  Molly shrugs. “More or less. Of course, it’s not just sex. There’s usually a reason for it.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re fantasizing about sleeping with six guys at once.”

  “God no!” she shoots back. “I’m not sure my vagina can take that kind of pounding. It’s already overly sensitive because of the pregnancy.”

  I shake my head, my face burning in embarrassment. “T.M.I., Molly.”

  She laughs, the sound chipping away at the stress that’s been drowning me all day. I raise my eyes to hers, my lips turning up slightly. This is what I need right now, to laugh with my friend and cringe at her lack of brain-to-mouth filter, like we always have.

  “Thanks, Mols,” I say once her laughter wanes.

  “You bet.” She squeezes my arm, sympathy in her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about why you’re marrying Wes, I’m here. I’ll listen.”

  Instead of insisting my engagement is everything I’ve hoped for, I say the only thing that makes sense. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.”

  From there, the night only gets worse as we all sit on the couch and watch the Eagles get their ass handed to them. Every time the cameras cut away to Drew in the box where his team sits, he seems to be tugging at his hair and shouting at his players, something he’s always claimed isn’t effective in getting them to play the best game they can. I’ve seen him lose important games before, but tonight’s different. He’s not the Drew I know. I can’t help but think the bombshell I dropped on him earlier contributed to his lack of focus.