My Torin

by K. Webster

  Two weeks later…

  “Casey!” Guy bellows from the living room.

  I try to ignore him as I stare at the diploma in my hands and chomp on my gum.

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  I did it. I got my friggin’ GED. Of course, I had to steal the cash from Guy to pay for the fee. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I’d been proud as punch when I slapped it down on the counselor’s desk at school and said I was done with their hell hole. That I was no longer their prisoner. It took the principal, the counselor, and my case worker to determine I was no longer required to go to school. I’m still stuck under Guy’s care, unfortunately, until Christmas. Then, I’m done.

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  “Casey! Goddammit, get your ass in here!”

  I huff as I shove the diploma into my backpack. I keep it stuffed full of my minimal belongings in the event I need to bolt on a moment’s notice. Over the years, so often I’d be plucked from one home and placed into another with zero warning. At first, I cried over the things I left behind. Now, I’m simply ready to take them with me. I leave my bag on the bed and swipe my beanie on the way out of the bedroom I share with another girl. A cold front came in a few days ago and even layering doesn’t help keep me warm. I shove the beanie over my head and make my way into the living room.

  “Ahhh, there’s Little Miss Sunshine,” Guy says proudly.

  I almost choke on my gum. Since when is Guy the fatherly type? With suspicion tugging at my insides, I glance over at him. His pocket bulges and a thick wad of bills sticks out the top.

  “Here she is. Casey Doe.” Guy walks over to me and clutches me in a side hug that makes my skin crawl. “We’re so proud of her. She just got her GED.”

  “That’s impressive,” a low, deep voice murmurs.

  I jerk my head toward the sound. At first all I see are shoes. Black. Dressy. Shiny. Expensive. My gaze follows up a pair of slacks, to a leather belt cinching at his waist, up along a sleek black tie, to a tanned neck. His jaw is sharp and chiseled, dusted in dark hair. When my eyes land on his mouth, a genuine smile sits on his full lips. My attention snaps to his eyes.

  Brown.

  Inviting.

  Curious.

  Sad.

  I blink at him in confusion, locked in his gaze. It’s familiar, as though I’ve looked in his eyes once before. Still, I can’t place him.

  “I’m Tyler Kline,” he says in a smooth, warm voice. “So happy to meet you.”

  I eyeball his extended hand with suspicion. “Hi.”

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  Now that my gum is no longer lodged in my throat, I nervously chew at it.

  His smile brightens. “Hi.”

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  I lift a brow in question and it urges him on to continue.

  “You’re coming home with me,” he says softly. Sadness flickers in his brown eyes. It makes my heart clench.

  “Why?” I demand and jerk from Guy’s embrace. “Where’s Lola?” My caseworker is always present during my transfers.

  “Lola said to go ahead,” Guy says, his voice tight with the lie on his tongue.

  I cross my arms over my small chest and shudder. I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or unease. Either way, I’m not going with this stranger.

  “Are you cold?” Tyler questions, genuine concern flashing over his features. Something about the action has me calming a bit.

  “Always,” I mutter.

  “My house is warm.” His brown eyes plead with me.

  “Trust me, kid, you’ll be much happier at his house,” Guy urges.

  I glare at Guy. “Did he pay you?” I gesture at his bulging pocket. “What’s going on here?”

  Tyler tenses and takes a step toward me. When his hand clasps over my shoulder, I don’t flinch or retreat. His hand is warm and comforting. “Please, Casey.”

  Not kid. Not dear. Not deadbeat dropout.

  Casey.

  “I’m Casey White, not Casey Doe,” I blurt out, hot tears stinging my eyes.

  Tyler sidesteps until he’s in front of me. His warm hand remains on my shoulder. He’s much taller than me and smells nice. “I like that name better,” he confides in a whisper. “Please come with me. I’ll give you anything you want.”

  I gape at him and then start laughing. “I want a new car.” I smirk at my bold demand.

  Tyler grins at me—all brilliant white teeth and self-confidence. “We’ll go pick you one out now. The new Mercedes has top marks on safety. Which color would you prefer?”

  “W-What?” I stammer.

  “Anything.”

  The word stumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Okay.” Okay? Run off with this stranger who clearly paid off your foster dad because he’s offering you a car? Are you crazy?

  Dear, this isn’t a game.

  Dr. Cohen is correct. This is not a game. This is my life and I need to get ahead as soon as I can. With a car, I can bolt the moment I turn eighteen and be halfway across the US before anyone even realizes or cares. My start on my new life is so close I can taste it.

  I clear my throat and lift my chin. “Okay.”

  Tyler grins again, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Thank you, Casey. I won’t let you down.”

  I don’t have time to process his words before Guy shoves my backpack in my arms and ushers us out the door.

  Everyone lets me down, including my mother.

  Why does Tyler Kline think he’s any different?

  I’ve sunk to a new low.

  I paid a man twenty thousand dollars in cash to let me take his foster child. I’d expected resistance or a change of heart. I didn’t expect to hand over the money and ten minutes later have her in my car as we zip through town. He wanted my name and address, his only stipulation. I gladly gave it to him, along with the money, because nothing else mattered.

  Nothing but her.

  I would’ve given him everything.

  All he had to do was ask.

  Fuck.

  This shit is illegal as hell.

  I’m thirty-two years old—I certainly don’t have any business taking a teenager.

  But I have my reasons. They’re good reasons. They make sense. I just have to forge forward carefully. One step in the wrong direction could send everything crashing down around me.

  Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

  She chomps on her gum as though she doesn’t know what else to do. With a tight grip, she clutches onto her ratty backpack. It’s torn and stained and I want to replace it. I want to give her everything.

  Because I need everything from her.

  “You hungry?” I ask, darting my eyes to her face.

  She tenses. “Yeah.”

  “What do you want?”

  Slowly, her head turns my way. I’m glad we’re sitting at a light because I can properly inspect her face. I’m still trying to understand what it is about her that cuts through darkness and imbeds light. Her wide blue eyes blink innocently at me. She’s so fucking tiny. Her clothes swallow her frame. The stocking cap is pulled low on her brow but despite all the clothing, she’s cold. Her nose is pink and she shivers.

  I reach forward and crank up the heat despite the fact that I’m sweating bullets. I’m in unchartered territory here. Every day I make deals happen and cushion my family’s future. But this? This, I don’t understand.

  There’s a lot about this world—about people—that I don’t understand. It’s something I’ve simply come to accept.

  “Steak?” I ask.

  “I don’t know…” She looks out the window and shrugs. “Real honest?”

  I smile. “Real honest.”

  Her head turns my way and her icy blue eyes bore into me. “I’ve never had it.”

  I’m about to laugh at her joke when I realize it’s not a joke. This poor, unloved child has never had something I take for granted. One of my favorite meals. I turn on my blinker and head to one of the best steakhouses in to
wn.

  “The Cedar Stump,” she says as she reads the sign. “Sounds appetizing.”

  A laugh does escape me this time. “It’s the best food you’ll ever have.”

  “Won’t take much to beat that,” she says in a dry tone.

  I park in a space and shut off the car. “I’ll buy you some warmer clothes. We’ll grab dinner and then head over to the mall. Okay?”

  Her eyes narrow as she tries to read me. “What do you want from me?” A quick flash of fear dances in her eyes.

  Horror washes over me. Not once did I consider she’d think I wanted her sexually. Fuck. “Um, nothing,” I say quickly. “Well,” I groan, “okay, I do want something.”

  She stiffens. “Maybe you should take me back. Whatever it is you want, I won’t be good at. I don’t know how to do that. Trust me.”

  I shake my head. “Not that. I promise. What I need is much simpler. I just need you.”

  “I’m not going to lie, Tyler. This is getting fuckin’ creepy.”

  Scrubbing my palm over my face, I nod. “Real, fuckin’ creepy,” I agree. “I promise I’m not a creep. You can trust me.”

  “Says every man as he lures a young girl into a van…”

  Guilt niggles at me because there are some things better left unsaid. Something tells me the unsaid things would upset her.

  “Just let me feed you, Casey. That’s all I want to do right now.”

  She pushes the car door open and shivers when a blast of cold air rushes inside. “Right now.”

  Fuck.

  I climb out of my Audi and stalk after her. For five foot nothing, she can book it. She’s just reached the fancy entrance when I come up behind her. I grab at the door handle of the restaurant and pull it open for her.

  “Ladies first.”

  She snorts. “I don’t see a lady.”

  “How can I help—” The hostess stalls upon seeing Casey.

  I clear my throat and open my mouth, but Casey beats me to it.

  “Table for two. Near an exit. This one’s a little sketchy and I need to make a quick escape if he gets fresh,” Casey deadpans.

  The hostess gapes at her before staring helplessly at me.

  “Two. Window. Escape route in sight,” I agree with a polite smile.

  She grabs two menus and nods. “Of course. Right this way.”

  Casey flashes me a wicked smile that warms my heart. This. This is exactly why she’s here. I may not understand people, but I certainly understand this. Electricity buzzes below her surface. She’s not someone who fits inside a mold. People like her are rare. People like her deserve to find others who share that same buzz.

  When we arrive at the table, I pull out Casey’s seat and motion for her to sit. She eyes me warily but plops down in the chair. Once I sit down, a server makes it over to us.

  “What can I get you two to drink?” the man asks.

  “I’ll have a glass of your finest wine.” Her eyebrow is lifted in challenge as she regards me.

  I shake my head. “Coke. Can you bring us a couple of glasses?”

  The server nods and rushes away.

  “You’re no fun,” she says with a sigh. She fidgets in her seat, drawing the attention from others. I don’t get embarrassed. Nothing embarrasses me.

  “I’m a criminal.”

  She raises a brow but doesn’t seem terrified at my declaration.

  “Bringing you here with me isn’t exactly legal which makes me a total criminal but even us criminals have to draw the line at giving liquor to a minor,” I say with a smile.

  She relaxes and her body goes still. “People are looking at me.”

  “Let them look.”

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not like them. Not like you.”

  I rub my palm across the back of my neck. “You’re lucky.”

  She blinks at me in confusion. “I should be afraid of you.”

  Offended, I scoff. “Why?”

  A brilliant smile stretches out over her lips. A soul healing smile. If only.

  “Because you’re like with the mafia or something, right? You’re going to sell me into sexual slavery or on the black market for my organs? Right, criminal?”

  I lift a brow. “Well, I hadn’t considered it, but now that you say something, I wonder how much your liver could go for.”

  “Asshole,” she sasses.

  “I’m not going to exploit you or sell you. I’m not a monster.”

  “Somehow, I believe that, which scares me,” she admits, her voice soft as she gazes out the window.

  “What do you want to eat?” I ask, changing the subject. “Their stuffed mushrooms are delicious. Maybe we could get them as an appetizer?”

  She frowns at me and nods. “Okay, fine.”

  I’m used to carrying on one-sided conversations, so her short answer doesn’t bother me. “I’d recommend the filet. Medium rare. A little blood never hurt anyone.”

  “Says the creepy guy who plans to sell my organs on the black market.”

  I laugh and point at the menu. “Just pick out something. I’m not going to kill you.”

  “Yet,” she whispers. “You’ve only known me a half hour. It takes most people two or three before they decide they hate me.”

  My brows pinch together and my heart lurches in my chest. “Hate is a strong word. Why would anyone hate you?”

  She absently picks up her rolled silverware and pulls out the fork. With the tines, she taps at the empty wineglass.

  Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.

  Patiently, I wait for her to answer.

  “I’m annoying,” she says after a long pause filled with the incessant tapping that’s drawing some stares our way.

  “Says who?” I challenge.

  She stops her tapping to point at someone with her fork. “Him. The bald guy over there with the red face. He’s angry with me. I’m loud.”

  I notice a man is indeed glaring at her. With my jaw clenched, I glare back at him and motion for him to turn around. His huff is loud and exaggerated, but he obeys.

  “Hmph,” she mutters.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Slower this time. More controlled.

  “I don’t think you’re annoying.”

  She laughs, a cute musical sound. “Liar.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  Her brows lift and nearly disappear under her beanie. “Then why am I here with you?”

  “Real honest?” I question, throwing her words back her way.

  Her lips quirk with a smile. “Real honest.”

  “My younger brother likes you.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Who’s your brother?”

  “His name is Torin.”

  “That’s a strange name.”

  “He’s a strange man.”

  Her shoulders stiffen and she draws the fork away from the glass. “Are you going to torture me?”

  I shake my head in horror. “Jesus, no. What the hell do they make you read in school?”

  “It’s what they don’t let me read,” she confides wickedly.

  “I’m not going to torture you. I just want you to come live with us. Just be there. Keep us company,” I admit, my heart thundering in my chest.

  If only it were that simple.

  “So, let me get this straight,” she utters and points her fork at me. “You want me.” She points at herself. “To entertain you?” Her fork points back at me.

  “Not entertain,” I grunt. “Just be.”

  She snorts. “You just turned up the creepiness a few notches there, Tyler.”

  “Please,” I beg, my voice a bare whisper.

  Amusement fades from her features as she regards me. “You really don’t lie?”

  “Never.”

  “You’re not going to hurt me.”

  “Never.”

  “You’re going to buy me a car, no strings attached.”

  “Whatever you want.”<
br />
  “I get a room with a fireplace?”

  The only room that has a fireplace is my room, but she can have it.

  “That would be my room, but it’ll now be yours.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  My brother.

  “Torin,” I utter. “He’s…” I look around and scowl at all the people glaring at us. “People look at him the way they look at you.” When my gaze finds hers, tears glimmer in her eyes.

  “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  I like Tyler. He’s always smiling and it reaches his eyes. Behind the smiles, though, he harbors a sadness that seeps down to the marrow of my bones. I don’t know him well enough to ask him about it, but I can’t stop wondering.

  When he mentions Torin, his whole demeanor changes. Proud yet defensive. It makes me wonder what it is that’s wrong with Torin. I’ve been around some mentally challenged kids over the years as I bounced through the system, so it’s nothing new for me. Maybe soon, he’ll elaborate. Until then, I’m going to enjoy my time at this fancy steakhouse where I don’t fit in, sitting across from a man who would be perfect for me if I were on the other side of my life. The happy side. The side that happens the day I turn eighteen.

  “I’ll have some ketchup, please,” I tell the waiter.

  The man’s eyes widen in horror.

  Tyler chuckles. “Bring some ketchup,” he tells the man. As soon as he’s gone, he reaches over and points at my steak. “You won’t need ketchup. Trust me.”

  I raise a brow as I cut into the bloody meat. It smells good. In my almost eighteen years, I’ve never had anything like this. The fanciest was when Guy made a crockpot roast recipe one of the moms at the clinic gave him.

  As I bring the bite of steak to my mouth, Tyler watches in anticipation. He wants me to like it. God, I hope I like it. I pop it into my mouth and a savory explosion assaults me in the best possible way. A groan escapes me as I greedily chomp and then swallow.

  “Good stuff?”

  “The best,” I agree.

  “Still want to slather it in ketchup?”

  “Fuck no.”

  He laughs and I decide right then, I like his laughs. Every adult in my life has been irritated and annoyed with me. They never took the time to know me or understand me. Nobody ever asked what I wanted or cared about my thoughts.