Angel of Redemption

by J. A. Little

  “If it were up to me, you’d come every night.” She snickers, looking up at me. Her tired eyes have a slight spark in them.

  “Always my dirty girl.” I smirk. She smiles, but it fades faster than it normally would. “I’ll be there,” I promise. “Just let me get things settled and make sure my brother’s okay for tonight.”

  “What happened to Simon? I thought he was supposed to be on most nights.” I feel my lips curl up into a snarl, even though I don’t make any sound.

  “He is. He’s been really fucking flaky lately.” I continue to grumble until Kayla puts her hand over my mouth.

  “Stop. I shouldn’t have brought him up. I’m sorry. Go do what you need to do. I’ll see you later.” She kisses me quickly and tries to walk away, but I pull her back and kiss her again. And again. And again.

  “Okay,” she giggles. I kiss her one last time on the neck as she dodges out of my grasp. It may not be the best time or place to be messing around like we are, but with all the crap that’s gone down in the last couple of days, we need moments like this. At least I do.

  “Come on now, break it up,” Kayla says to Claire and Logan, who are standing next to the car doing the same thing we were just doing. They separate slightly and I watch Logan brush his knuckles over Claire’s stomach before opening the car door for her and helping her in. Once she’s in, he backs up toward where I’m standing and we watch them drive away. I parked on the other side of the lot, so we make our way across in silence.

  “Here,” I say, tossing Logan his keys.

  “You’re gonna let me drive?” he asks, surprised.

  “It’s your car.”

  “Oh, yeah. Duh,” he laughs, unlocking the door and climbing in.

  The drive out of the city is dead. There are only a few other cars here and there. Logan drives slowly. At first I’m not sure if he’s being extra careful because I’m in the car or if he’s pre-occupied, but the dazed expression on his face tells me it’s the latter.

  “Are you okay?”

  Logan startles, takes a deep breath and nods.

  “Really? Tonight was pretty intense.” He shrugs. I frown. “Come on, Logan. Talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  “About what’s going on in your head.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on! I can’t think straight. One minute I’m thinking everything might be okay, and the next I’m trying to figure out what the fuck happened. I’m eighteen years old. Now all the sudden I got a kid on the way and a girl I obviously can’t take care of.”

  “What do you mean you can’t take care of her?” I ask, confused.

  “I let that motherfucker hit her. I promised her I wouldn’t ever let him touch her again and then…” He breaks off.

  “How long have you known about this?”

  “I don’t know. A couple months. We were at the library. She showed up with bruises on her arms, said he grabbed her too hard on accident. I didn’t buy it, but what the fuck was I gonna do about it?”

  I groan. “You two…”

  “Don’t fucking lecture me, Dean. Please? I get that we fucked up, okay? I know we were wrong to hide it, blah blah blah. How many times do I have to fucking say I’m sorry?”

  “Have you actually said you’re sorry?”

  “Yeah. Like four million times,” he scoffs.

  I shake my head. “Are you?” I’m irritated, and it’s showing.

  “Yeah.” He shrugs.

  “Huh. What are you sorry for, Logan? Sorry you went behind Kayla’s back and messed around with her little sister when she asked you not to? Sorry you lied for months to someone who’s stuck her neck out for you over and over again? To someone who’s done everything she can to keep you safe? Sorry you almost cost Kayla her job? Sorry you put her in the position that you did tonight? What the hell are you sorry about?” His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly. I can see his eyes are watery, but he’s fighting it. “I haven’t once heard a genuine apology out of you. You have the balls to act like it’s Kayla who’s done something wrong. Like she’s the one who betrayed you when she’s done nothing but love you and your brother since the moment she laid eyes on you. You don’t know what to do? Fine, I get that. But we’re trying to help you and all you do is cop an attitude. Maybe you should stop and try to think about all the other people involved in this situation. It’s not just about you.”

  We stop at a light, and he turns his head toward the window briefly, sniffing and wiping his face with the back of his hand. He doesn’t respond to me, and I don’t push him. I want him to think about what I’ve said.

  When we get to the house, Logan turns off the car. I open my door, but when I realize he isn’t moving, I sit back.

  “You coming?”

  He stares at the steering wheel. “Yeah.”

  This time I wait for him. After locking his car, he makes his way to me and I put my hand on his sagging shoulder.

  “You’re going to get through this. Stop pushing Kayla away. She’s your biggest ally. You’re going to need her.”

  “Do you think she hates me?” he asks dejectedly.

  “I think you need to lay low, do what she says, and stop trying to pick fights. She’s angry, but she doesn’t hate you.”

  “I…I didn’t know all that stuff. What she said about Claire’s dad. I didn’t know he was such a prick to her. Claire didn’t tell me.”

  “I’m not sure Claire knew all that. She was a little girl when it happened.”

  “But you knew?” He looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out.

  “Yeah. Most of it,” I answer. Logan puts his head back down and starts walking again. When we get inside, he heads straight up the stairs. “Try to get some sleep.”

  “I will,” he mumbles before disappearing.

  Having no idea if Aiden’s still awake or in bed, I poke my head into the den and see him sprawled out on the couch. The TV is on some paid programming shit, and his eyes are closed.

  “Aiden!” I call loudly enough to wake him.

  “Huh?” he grunts, sitting up quickly. He rubs his eyes and blinks a few times. “What time is it?”

  “Just after one.”

  “Are you shittin’ me? What happened?”

  I sit down in the recliner and drop my head into my hands. What a fucking day. I relay to Aiden what went down at the Graeme’s penthouse, and then what I know from the hospital.

  “He hit his pregnant, teenage daughter?” he growls when I’ve finished.

  “Yeah. Hard, too. If I hadn’t been standing between him and Logan when he did it, Logan would have taken him out. I almost couldn’t hold him.”

  “You weren’t even tempted to let him slip?”

  I think back to what that fucker said about Kayla and grit my teeth. Not only was I tempted, I wanted to join in. That bastard deserves to get the shit beat out of him, but where would that have landed us? Richard was right about one thing: if we had laid a finger on him, his word would have carried much more weight than ours.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” my brother says, reading the expression on my face. “Is she okay?”

  I shrug. “She’s upset, but Kayla said there’s no real damage, and the baby’s okay.”

  “What about Kayla?”

  “She’s holding herself together, I guess. I’m gonna head back to her place tonight.”

  “You’re worried about her.”

  I nod. “Yeah. She’s getting slammed. One thing after another. I don’t know how much more she can take before she breaks.”

  An image of Steph appears in the back of my mind. I shake it off. I know that Kayla is going to be mad when she finds out. The longer I take to tell her Steph is living in my apartment, the worse it’s going to be. But it’s not that I haven’t tried to tell her. Something always seems to get in the way. And now, with everything going on, I’m afraid that something like this might be too much. I’m afraid it might break us.

  But maybe it does
n’t matter if I don’t tell her. I haven’t talked to or seen Steph at all since she left the night I told her she could have the apartment. I don’t even know if she’s actually living there. Maybe she was just giving me a sob story to see what she could get out of me. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s lied. Maybe she just gave up and fucked off.

  I think about it and frown. As much as I want to believe it doesn’t matter what happens to Stephanie, I can’t help but think about Abigail and Zachary. They are innocent in all of this. I’ve seen too many kids come through Wyatt House who, regardless of everything their parents have put them through, would love to go home. It kills me that these kids have more love for their parents than their parents have for them. That should never, ever be the case. And at the end of the day, I want to believe that Stephanie is capable of caring about someone other than herself.

  I need to figure out when and how to tell Kayla. Secrets only ever do more harm than good. And I don’t want to lose her simply because I didn’t have the balls to be honest.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Aiden asks, narrowing his eyes. I rake my fingers across my jaw. I really need to shave.

  “I’ve got some shit on my mind. Let me try and sort through it on my own.”

  “All right, bro. You know I’m here for you.”

  I nod. “Yeah. Thanks, A.”

  “Hey, did you happen to go into my office at all the last couple of days?” Aiden asks.

  “No, why?”

  He scratches his stomach and looks confused. “I’m missing some shit. Don’t worry about it.”

  “What shit?”

  “There’s about two hundred missing from my petty cash and the watch Emily gave me for my twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “Did you ask the boys?”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “I did, but they conveniently don’t know.”

  I hate this shit. I hate suspecting our kids. I hate suspecting Brayden, but he’s the resident klepto, and I can’t help it.

  “I’ll talk to Bray. I’m gonna head out. You have everything covered?”

  “Yep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  * * *

  I startle awake in the morning to Kayla struggling under my arm. Opening my eyes, I see the sun is just barely starting to peek through the shades. Kayla’s on her back, eyes closed, face pained, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. I don’t have time to figure out what’s happening before she bolts up, throwing me off of her.

  “Stop!” she screeches, looking around in a panic.

  I hold my arms up. “Whoa, sweetheart. Relax. It’s just me.” Her chest is heaving. “You okay?” She groans loudly and collapses back into me. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know. Nightmare.”

  “Mmm. I’m sorry.” I kiss her forehead and pull her closer. We lie there in the hazy morning light, listening to the birds making a shitload of noise just outside the window.

  “Do you still get them?” Kayla asks quietly.

  “Nightmares?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Sometimes. Not as often as I used to.”

  She turns on her side and props herself up on her elbow to look at me. “Really? How come?”

  I shrug. It’s not that I don’t want to answer her—I just really don’t know.

  “What time did you get in last night?” she asks, changing the subject.

  “A little after two.”

  She runs the pad of her thumb under my right eye. “Are you going to be okay on four hours of sleep?”

  I laugh. “Believe it or not, sweetheart, before I had you to come home to, I slept less than that every night.” I catch it too late—what I just said—home. If Kayla heard it, she doesn’t let on.

  “How was Logan when you took him back?”

  “I think he’s more scared than he realizes,” I say, letting out a breath.

  “Claire is, too. She curled up with her head in my lap last night and cried for almost an hour. I played with her hair until she fell asleep like my mom used to do to me when I was a little girl.” Kayla coughs and scrunches up her face. “I don’t know what happened to her,” she chokes.

  “Baby, don’t,” I say, pulling her in even closer.

  “She used to be a good mother…used to care,” she whispers. “What did I do by leaving her there with him?”

  I thought about the same thing when we were leaving The Carlyle. What would happen to Celia with a seething Richard and no one else to take the brunt of his anger?

  “You can’t think about that. She made her choice.”

  “I know she did. That doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

  “That’s because you’re an amazing person.” I kiss her and rub my hand over her hip. There’s a sound from the hallway, a high-pitched sneeze. Kayla sighs.

  “I wish she would have slept longer, but I think this morning sickness is killing her.”

  “Do I need to sneak out?”

  Kayla laughs. “No. I told her you’d probably be here in the morning.”

  “She’s okay with it?”

  “Of course she is. She likes you.” She sits all the way up, throwing one leg over my body to straddle my waist. My dick twitches. I can see now that she’s wearing a translucent, white tank top. Her nipples are dark and hard. I raise my eyebrows. “I have to admit, I kinda like you, too.” She rocks into me a few times, and I growl.

  “You know how unfair this is right now?”

  She nods, smirking.

  “And you know I’m gonna get you back.”

  She grins, her tongue poking out through her teeth. “I’m counting on it.”

  She jumps up, leaving me and my boner in bed while she grabs one of my hoodies from the closet and pulls it on. Goddamn, she looks good in my clothes.

  “When you’re ready,” she clears her throat. “I’ll have coffee.”

  I shake my head and watch her walk out the door. There’s no way I’m rubbing one out with so many other people in the house. Just the thought is enough to deflate me. I take a piss, pull on some sweats and a T-shirt, and head out of the bedroom.

  Andy and Kayla are in the kitchen, and Claire is sitting at the table. They’re deep in conversation. By the way he keeps glancing over at Claire, I assume they’re talking about what happened last night. He acknowledges me with nod and then focuses his attention back on Kayla.

  Leaving them alone, I sit down next to Claire, who’s drinking a glass of juice. Her head pops up. Looking at her pale face, I want to go back and kill that fucker. Her ice blue eyes are red-rimmed and a nasty purple bruise covers her right cheekbone. I reach out instinctively to touch it, and she flinches. I snatch my hand back.

  “Sorry,” she whimpers. “I just…”

  “Don’t apologize,” I respond. I, of all people, should know better than to make an unexpected movement toward someone who’s been hit. “It’s my fault. I should have asked first. Can I?” I ask. She nods, and I reach my hand out again, ghosting my fingers over the swollen skin. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little,” she responds weakly.

  “You need to put some ice on it; calm it down a little bit before Logan gets a good look.”

  “Okay,” she says, her lips twitching. I’m not sure if she’s trying to smile, or if she’s trying not to cry. Her eyes dart to my arms, and I realize she’s probably never seen me without a long-sleeve shirt on before. “You have a lot of tattoos.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Have you had them a long time?”

  “Uh, these ones,” I say, wiggling my fingers, “I got in prison about ten years ago. And the others I had done after I got out.”

  “What do they mean?”

  I lift the sleeve of my right arm so she can get a good look. “They’re reminders.”

  “Of what?” she asks, leaning forward and tilting her head to see more clearly. I don’t even hesitate to answer her question. I know she’s not trying to be rude. She’s just curious.

  “Of pe
ople I hurt. Of who I was. Of who I am.”

  She looks to be considering what I’ve said. “Did they hurt?”

  “A little,” I answer, repeating her words from minutes earlier. “I’ve got scars under some of them, so those were a little more tender,” I continue.

  “What are the scars from?” she asks cautiously. At that moment Kayla walks into the room.

  “Hey,” she says, setting a cup of coffee in front of me and some pancakes in front of her sister.

  “Another time,” I tell Claire quietly. She nods and looks down, wrinkling her nose. She lets out a pained sound.

  “What?” Kayla asks.

  “The smell of maple syrup is making me sick.” She covers her mouth and Kayla picks up the plate.

  “Do you want some plain ones?”

  “Yes, please. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, honey.” She looks down at me. “You want these?”

  “Not if they’re going to make her sick.”

  “Go ahead,” Claire says, waving her hand. “They’re fine over there. Just not over here.”

  Kayla leans down next to me, putting the plate on the table. “Can I get you anything else, sir?” she jokes. I grab the collar of her hoodie, my hoodie, and yank her toward me, planting a rough kiss on her mouth.

  “Not right now!” Kayla playfully pushes me away, and Claire giggles. She gets her own breakfast and joins us. Andy hangs around for a couple of minutes, drinking a cup of coffee. The only words he says are a very solemn “be careful, buttercup” just before leaving for work. When we’re finished eating breakfast, Claire flips on the television and I help Kayla clean up the kitchen.

  “What’s with Andy?”

  She sighs heavily. “He’s worried about me. I tend to get distracted at work when I’ve got family stuff going on. I got myself into a dangerous situation a few years ago when he and I were fighting about something stupid.”

  “What do you mean, ‘a dangerous situation’?” I don’t like the sound of this.

  Kayla shakes her head.” I was downtown late one night and ended up in a bad neighborhood because I wasn’t paying attention. When I was stopped at a red light, I was carjacked.”

  I gape at her. “What happened?”