Angel of Redemption

by J. A. Little

  He shrugged. “We’re just visiting. Shootin’ the shit. Ya know.”

  I smiled at them. “Okay. But when you’re done visiting with her, come back to bed. It’s cold in there by myself.”

  He looked up at me and offered a cheeky grin. “I will.”

  About half an hour later, I was woken up by his naked body slipping under the sheets and curling around me. His hands caressed my skin gently as he pulled off my pajamas. We made love twice over the next couple hours. Even though we were both exhausted the next day, it was worth it.

  Our first Christmas together was nothing short of amazing. Emily wasn’t kidding when she said Maria went all out at the Christmas ball. Wyatt Estate was spectacular. The lights, the music—everything was perfect. Even Granddad Wyatt was lucid enough to join us for a couple hours. He made Janice Rochester’s day when he commented that she was as beautiful as she’d always been. Smooth as his grandson, that man.

  This time, there were no socialite hussies trying to grope my boyfriend, or arrogant, outspoken assholes criticizing him for past mistakes. In fact, it was a record-breaking fundraising night for Wyatt House. And Dean in a tux… I’d nearly forgotten. I was lucky enough to see several of his old hiding places throughout the night.

  With Emily, Aiden, and the kids spending the holiday in Chicago with Emily’s grandparents, Joe offered to spend Christmas Eve at Wyatt House so that Dean and I could be together. We let Logan stay the night on Christmas Eve so he could spend Ellie’s first Christmas with her. He was supposed to sleep in the spare bed. I never did say anything about waking up to find him snuggled up in Claire’s bed with her. They were both clothed and looked so happy, I left it alone.

  When we arrived at Wyatt House the next morning, we were surprised to see Maria there, too. We all had breakfast and spent the morning with the boys opening presents and watching football. Later that day, Tracey arrived to take over and Dean and I joined Claire, Logan, Ellie, Andy, Sara, and Matty at my dad and Karen’s house for Christmas dinner.

  Three weeks into the new year, Granddad Wyatt passed away. Dean took it particularly hard, but he tried not to let me see it. He spent hours in the garage with the heavy bag. Sometimes, I’d just sit on the step and watch him—watch his muscles stretch and strain, watch the sweat drip from his body. Just like he took care of me when I needed him to, I did everything I could to help him through it.

  In February, we accidentally found out that things had not worked out for Stephanie and her children. I was surprising Sara with lunch at work and walked in to her talking to someone on the phone, her back to me.

  “Stephanie Newbaker. Yes. She’s missed the last three visits with her kids. I don’t know where she is. She was doing fine and then poof. Gone. The super said she didn’t pay rent this month and when he went to collect, the place was trashed. I can’t find her anywhere,” Sara huffed, unaware that I was standing in the doorway. “Yeah, and when I called the testing center, they said her last urine from three weeks ago was dirty.”

  I cleared my throat, feeling guilty for standing there listening. She turned around in her seat and grimaced. “I’ll keep trying, but I’m not putting up with this. Okay, thanks. Bye.”

  “Sorry,” I winced. “I brought you lunch.” I held up the bag of burgers and French fries.

  “Aw, thanks, sweetie.” She motioned me over and cleared a chair for me to sit in. “Did you hear all of that?”

  I nodded. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s fine. Do you happen to know where she is?

  I shook my head. “No. I can ask Dean, but I doubt he would have heard from her and not said anything.”

  “I figured, but you know how it is. I can’t move forward before I’ve tried to find her,” she sighed. “I had high hopes, too.”

  We dropped the subject after that, talking instead about how things were going with her and my brother. He’d told me a few days before that he was getting ready to propose. Keeping that from her was hard, but Andy made me promise.

  Their wedding was beautiful—very formal and fancy. Sara looked like a princess. Dean was the best man, and I was the maid of honor. We all laughed when Dean’s toast included the fact that he really didn’t like Andy when I first introduced them and was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. Andy nodded.

  When the wedding photographs came back, Sara gave me a couple. I hung them on the wall of our living room.

  “Have you ever seen our wedding photos?” Emily asked, staring at them one night when we were getting ready to go out.

  “Uh, yeah. A long time ago, why?”

  She dug through her purse and pulled out a crinkled old wallet photograph, handing it to me. I did remember seeing it—on the wall of the office in Emily and Aiden’s house the day Dean and I decided to be “friends.” Best. Decision. Ever.

  “Tell me that’s not a difference.” She smiled. I looked down at the photo, hating the dead eyes staring back at me, and then back up at the vibrant ones from just a few weeks before. “Maybe we need to get remarried,” she teased. “…Or maybe you and Dean?”

  I ignored her comment. Dean and I were happy and comfortable. If we never got married, I didn’t care. I didn’t need the title.

  At least that’s what I thought.

  He did it in typical Dean fashion. No bells, no whistles. It took him nearly five minutes to get the question out as he stood in front of me in our bedroom while I towel dried my hair after a shower.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked after he’d mumbled his way through something about the beach house and a dream he’d had. He swallowed and held out his hand, a little green velvet box perched in his palm. My heart stumbled over itself. Opening the box, I found a gorgeous solitaire diamond.

  “Uh, will you marry me?”

  I stood there staring at the ring, stunned. Dean fidgeted.

  “I should have gotten down—on one knee, I mean. That’s the way it’s supposed to be done, right? Shit. I’m always fucking things up,” he muttered.

  “Dean?”

  “Huh?”

  “Shut up. You did it perfectly. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “You will?” he asked as if he were expecting a different answer.

  I grinned. “If you actually put it on my finger, I suppose I can manage a lifetime with you,” I teased.

  Almost exactly two years after our first trip there, Dean and I were married in a small ceremony at the beach house in Michigan. There were less than twenty people in attendance—family and close friends only. It was a perfect, gorgeous afternoon with only a few clouds in the sky.

  My mom wasn’t there. I didn’t invite her. She no longer lived at the penthouse, and that’s about all I knew. Richard had been found guilty of felony insurance fraud and was sentenced to fifty-two months in jail with three years of probation and ordered to pay back almost a million dollars to the insurance companies. He was also accused of medical malpractice, which resulted in him losing his job, his license, and most of his and my mom’s money after multiple civil suits were filed against him.

  I’m not going to lie and say I don’t worry. Regardless of the fact that she essentially threw Claire and me away, she’s still my mother, and deep down I love her. But she made her choice. Someday, she’ll realize the mistake she made. Whether or not Claire and I are willing to forgive her is still unknown.

  “What are you wearing on your feet?” Emily asked as I lifted my simple, fitted lace wedding gown up to walk down the stairs.

  “Shoes.”

  “Red ones?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll take them off before I walk. Dean likes these ones…a lot.”

  “You two are so weird,” she snorted.

  I did take them off to walk down the sandy aisle, but not before Dean got a good look. The glint in his eye as I neared him was enough to make me blush.

  “You don’t play fair,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my cheek after my father handed me off.

  “You’re marrying me. I
thought you knew that by now.” I smirked.

  “You’ll be putting them back on later.”

  The minister cleared his throat. “Are we ready?”

  “Absolutely,” Dean said, gripping my hand.

  The ceremony was quick, and, just like that I became Mrs. Dean Wyatt. We drank and danced well into the evening, and when it started pouring down rain and everyone else scrambled for cover, Dean and I stood outside, letting our fancy clothes get drenched. I’m sure we would have been freezing had we been paying any attention—but we weren’t. We just kept dancing. After everyone left to go to their respective rentals, Dean and I retreated to the beach house alone.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me and gliding his fingertips over my bare arms.

  “N-n-no,” I lied, my teeth chattering.

  “That’s a shame. I was thinking of warming you up, but if you’re okay…” He let go of me and began walking away, loosening his bow tie as he went. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  I followed him and watched as he turned the water on and undressed. I had no plans to let him do anything naked without me for at least the next few days.

  “Will you unzip me before you get in?” I asked, turning and lifting my hair. I could feel him behind me, but it took him several minutes before he actually pulled the zipper down my back, ending just above my tailbone.

  “You look so beautiful in this,” he whispered, his warm breath touching my ear. “Thank you for marrying me.”

  I let the dress slip from my shoulders. Dean unclasped the bra and slid my panties down my legs, leaving me bare. I turned around, looked down at him as he kneeled in front of me, and brushed my fingers over his smooth cheek.

  “I always intended on spending the rest of my life with you, Dean Wyatt. Being able to do it as your wife is an added bonus. Thank you for asking me.”

  He smiled and leaned in, kissing the skin just below my belly button. When he began moving lower, I got excited. I didn’t realize how excited until his tongue slid languidly over the tender and swollen flesh between my legs. My knees started to buckle. Luckily, Dean caught me, laying me gently on the bed and draping my legs over his shoulders while he tasted me. He wasn’t in a hurry, choosing to torture me by licking and sucking slowly. He brought me to the brink twice before stopping completely.

  “Come on, baby,” he said, helping me up. “Let’s finish this in the shower.”

  “It’s too small,” I protested.

  “For showering, maybe.” He smirked. “We’ll figure it out.”

  We stepped into the tiny stall, letting the steaming water drip down over our bodies. Dean dipped his head, taking my mouth in a kiss to end all kisses. His tongue tasted of me as it drew me in, making my head spin. My skin tingled with a million little pinpricks. It would have been too much for any other night. But it wasn’t any other night. It was our wedding night, and I relished the feeling.

  Without breaking away, he lifted me up, pressing me against the wall. My mouth dropped open as he slid into me, and I let out a soft cry.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I gasped. “God, I love you.”

  He took my lips again, this time while thrusting upward into me. I could feel him everywhere. Unable to hold back anymore, I came with a violently intense shudder. Dean sped up, and before the aftershocks of my own orgasm had faded, he was pulsing inside me. He continued to hold me until we had both come down, but with the water beginning to chill, he had to let me go. He kissed me one more time and grabbed a towel.

  “See. I told you we’d figure it out.” I laughed as he turned off the water and wrapped the towel around me. “Ready for bed?”

  “Bed or sleep?”

  “Sweetheart,” he smirked. “I hope you’re well-rested, because I don’t intend on letting you sleep at all for the next twenty-four hours.”

  Best twenty-four hours of my life.

  * * *

  The giant screen above the stage lights up with a picture of Dean, Gage, and a group of friends from before the accident. They’re smiling and happy. A few more pass by, each one showing carefree kids. But this is not a marshmallow presentation about the joys of being young.

  The next slide shows an image of the crash. The twisted metal and burnt-out shell of Dean’s car. There’s a series of gasps, groans, and other noises of surprise.

  “I was driving that car,” Dean says solemnly. “I was sixteen. My best friend Gage was a passenger.” Another image of Gage and Dean before the accident pops up on the screen. Then a picture of Gage that was taken about six months ago when he agreed to be a part of Dean’s presentation. More gasps. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts, and he’s standing using braces instead of his prosthetic leg, the stump prominently on display along with the scars that cover his body. “Gage was a state champion swimmer. He was popular and smart. Was looking at a full-ride scholarship to college. Now he’s a recovering alcoholic and drug addict. He struggles every minute of every day to stay sober. He can’t keep a steady job. He has no family and very few friends. I did that to him.”

  Next is a series of pictures of Dean in the hospital. He chose not to use the most graphic ones of his burnt and peeling flesh, but they’re still pretty shocking. The bruises, the bandages, the scarring.

  “You’d think destroying your best friend’s life would be the worst part,” Dean says, looking down. “But you’d be wrong.” The slide changes. He doesn’t look back up.

  Last year, Colin contacted the family of Nadia and Ian Wilde. Although they didn’t want to meet with Dean, they agreed to allow him to use the family’s picture in his presentation.

  “This is the family I killed.”

  I look over at the illuminated faces of the students. Expressions are solemn, mouths are agape. Every single one of them is paying attention.

  “I thought I was cool. I had a fast new car, and I wanted to show it off. I didn’t listen when Gage told me to slow down. I didn’t even see the other car.” Dean takes a sip from the bottle of water he’d brought out to the podium with him. “They were just coming home from dinner when I lost control. Just out doing family things. I heard her scream for her baby. I watched her die.”

  They listen to him as he describes the accident, his trial, his fear, his sentence. He talks about what it was like in juvie and afterward, including his jail time. He doesn’t get into why he went to jail or anything about Stephanie, but instead focuses on how his decisions affected not only his life, but also the lives of others.

  “I’m not here to treat you like children or to scold you for the things you do or the decisions you make,” Dean says, wrapping things up. “But if my story can make you think—can prevent just one person from the pain and hurt I caused—it’s worth telling over and over again.” Dean stops talking. The room is eerily silent.

  “Does anyone have any appropriate questions for Mr. Wyatt?” The principal asks, stepping back out onto the stage. A few hands shoot up. This is the part Dean wasn’t looking forward to. His presentation he can control, but not the questions. Most of them are centered on his scars and what it was like in jail. One kid does ask what he was sent to jail for. He glances at me.

  “I was arrested on drug possession charges,” he answers truthfully. “It’s a slippery slope. I couldn’t stay on my feet.”

  After a few minutes, the principal takes the podium. He thanks Dean, and the room applauds. While the principal goes over a few announcements before dismissal, I stand up and meet Dean as he comes off the stage.

  “You did good, baby,” I whisper. He lets out a puff of air and smiles. There’s a look of relief on his face. We stay for another half hour, talking with teachers who commend Dean on his ability to hold the kids’ attention and for telling his story so openly. I can tell when he’s had enough. All his nervous, irritated habits come out at once. The second there’s an opportunity, I politely make excuses.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whisper
in his ear, pulling him toward the door.

  Epilogue

  Dean

  That was, by far, one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But I’m glad I did it. Colin said it was time. I don’t see him weekly anymore, just whenever I need to. He’s helped me through a lot. He’s become a good friend.

  Kayla and I drive home in silence. It’s been ten months since she became my wife. Life has been crazy. We’ve had a huge rotation in boys at Wyatt House. Curtis is long gone. After turning eighteen, he left Wyatt House. I don’t know what happened to him—he simply disappeared. Eric and Edgar are just about to graduate. Both have been accepted into college. Eric plans to attend Notre Dame and study theology. When he decided that’s where he wanted to go, Emily helped him apply for several scholarships and student loans. Wyatt House is also helping provide funding. He’ll most likely still have to work, but I think he’ll be fine. Edgar is heading to LSU. I’m impressed with both of them.

  I ran into Jax not that long ago. He said he made it to graduation living at the RTC he was transferred to after I had to let him go. He’s got two kids with two different girls and is working his ass off to support them, but he’s drug-free. He looked good, albeit tired. I can’t help but wonder how well he would have done if I’d let him stay. I wish it had been an option.

  Brayden did so well at community college that he was able to transfer to the University of Minnesota last year. He’s got one more year before he graduates with a degree in computer technology. He’s already working for a pretty big company as a programmer and makes more money than I do. He and Caitlynn aren’t together anymore, but she and Claire are still really tight, making for some awkward gatherings every now and then. Brayden continues to be a huge player, but he’s a good kid.

  Trey is still with us, but it hasn’t been without its problems. After three years, I honestly don’t know what to make of him. I doubt I ever will.

  Kayla is amazing with the boys. Despite the fact that most of them are bigger than she is, it didn’t take long for her to establish who’s boss. I find myself falling more and more in love with her all the time. I was worried things would change after we got married, but they haven’t. Not really. If anything, she’s more of a wildcat than she ever was. She teases me and turns me on constantly. I still can’t get enough of her.