Wishes at First Light

by Joanne Rock

  Still, it was better than being back in the foster system under the crappiest supervision imaginable. Mrs. Duchesne, her social worker, hadn’t believed her when she confided that her foster brother had molested her. Instead the woman had suggested she “try harder” to get along with her foster family.

  Mia had to start fights with everyone in the house to finally get booted out by her foster mom. And that was after her scumbag bastard son Connor had helped himself to Mia’s body on more than one occasion.

  Now, throwing herself on the brown and tan quilt that covered the bed, Mia grabbed a slice of the hot pizza Clayton had brought over a few minutes ago. She wasn’t about to cut off her nose to spite her face—her social studies teacher’s favorite metaphor that the guy amazingly managed to work into a lesson at least twice a week—and not eat the pie just because her wiseass half brother delivered it. She was starving and her day had sucked donkey balls.

  Flopping onto her back, Mia jammed one of the decorative mustard pillows under her head. She toed off her shoes and let them fall on the thick tan carpet below while she balanced her plate on her stomach and checked her phone.

  No messages, of course. The only person who ever texted her was her mother and that was usually only to drunk-text after midnight. Although occasionally boys got ahold of her number and sent her penis pics in a quest to—what? Win her heart?

  Sometimes she wondered why she bothered dating at all.

  At least Connor didn’t have her number anymore. But after he’d tracked her a couple of times, she still worried he’d find her again. She hadn’t even given Nicole her contact information.

  Inhaling the first slice of pizza, Mia moved on to the next and checked her school assignments. She could always claim she’d been too sick to complete them, but what else was she going to do in this mustard and brown hell? Stare at the tan walls and wonder how much time Pete had left and she got booted back into Duchesne’s hands?

  She opened a document from math class and figured she’d get some problems done when her phone chimed with a text. Holding her breath, she swapped screens to read it.

  So I hear I wasn’t the only one too chicken-shit to go to school today.

  Mia set her pizza aside.

  Boys never sent her texts that weren’t lewd photos.

  Was this a girl giving her trouble?

  Who is this?

  she typed, wiping her fingers on a napkin when she had a hard time hitting the right keys.

  Blue balls. Literally.

  Davis? Mia scrambled to sit upright and scrolled to reread his first text now that she knew who sent it.

  You were a no-show today?

  she typed, shocked to be having a conversation with him after last night’s disaster. And had she actually left bruises? That sounded painful.

  Wasn’t ready for third degree about our date. You?

  Surprised, Mia took a moment to munch another bite of pizza while she thought about her reply. She wasn’t sure why he’d contacted her but...what if he didn’t hate her? The idea cheered her on a day that had gone from bad to worse with her dad and this bogus living situation.

  Although the pizza was damn good. Slowly, she keyed in Same. Then hit Send.

  Her phone remained silent for long minutes. She told herself to stop watching it. The conversation had ended.

  He was just being friendly, maybe, to show her he didn’t hold a grudge.

  But when her cell finally buzzed again, she couldn’t deny a twinge of excitement.

  I thought about what you said. About bad experiences. With guys.

  Thinking back, she couldn’t remember saying much, actually. She didn’t share details about that—not even with Gabriella. She’d always feared someone stepping into her life to “help” and somehow making her situation worse. Mrs. Duchesne was a perfect example. After she’d confided in that woman, only to have her honesty questioned, she didn’t trust so easily anymore.

  Yeah?

  She didn’t know what else to say since his thought seemed unfinished.

  When his reply came her heart skipped a beat.

  I don’t want to be a bad experience.

  It was possibly the most romantic thing she’d ever read. Which, of course, only proved how much her dating life had sucked. But still...the words made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight.

  She couldn’t type that back to him, though. While she thought about how to reply, he shot another text her way.

  And I’ve got a perfect way to silence the blabbermouths tomorrow.

  Mia hoped the punchline to all this wasn’t something vulgar. She braced herself for a penis pic. Because...wouldn’t that be just like a boy?

  She keyed in ??? and hit Send. Hoped for the best.

  I’m serious about this.

  came his first text. Followed quickly by,

  Think before you laugh.

  And then, just when she couldn’t stand the suspense, his text showed up.

  We could pretend we’re a couple.

  Mia most definitely did not laugh. She read it. Reread it. Knew it had to be a joke. It was like one of those teen movies—the guy pretends to like the sleazy girl and the whole school laughs at her behind her back.

  Except that she couldn’t picture Davis Reed spearheading stupid pranks. And what if he didn’t believe she was sleazy the way the rest of Crestwood seemed to?

  Have aliens abducted you?

  she sent back, needing to cover herself in case this was a joke. And then,

  Is a Martian keying in this crazy idea?

  The texts came faster now.

  Would a Martian know about the blue balls??? Be real.

  Mia had never typed an emoji in her life. In her mind, it was way too cliché. But if she’d been a smiley face sort of girl, she would have sent one. Outside her bedroom, she could hear Gabriella and Clayton talking, making her wonder how long her so-called brother was staying. She couldn’t decide if they were really a couple or not. Not that it mattered since she wouldn’t be speaking to either of them again.

  When her phone pinged, she read the note from Davis.

  I’ll drive you to school and we walk in holding hands. Best defense against people saying stupid stuff. Guys, at least, have some respect for another guy’s girlfriend.

  Mia debated. He could still be playing her. What if he was sitting around with a room full of other band geeks while they collectively decided what to text to her? It just seemed too...high school. Possibly more cliché than a smiley emoji.

  But what if he was serious? He was a different kind of guy, that was for sure. If he really was interested in putting a stop to the gossip about their date—to shutting down people before they asked intrusive questions—his idea might do the trick. She’d always been a serial dater in the past. Never a real relationship. What if that stopped the gossips?

  I do need a ride to school, she typed back finally. Best to be cagey and see what happened tomorrow. She wasn’t going to be a sucker and swoon all over him, only to find out he was playing her.

  Then again, she also wasn’t going to knee him in the balls again if he tried to kiss her.

  If that ever happened, Mia had the feeling she’d kiss the living daylights out of him for saying she was a smart girl. For now, she sent the address of the Chances’ house and hoped for the best.

  This is going to be fun.

  It turned out to be Davis’s last text of the night.

  Mia got busy doing her homework, and she had him to thank when she went almost an hour without thinking about her father, her half brother or her false friend Gabriella.

  Thanks to Davis, in spite of everything, she was kind of looking forward to tomorrow.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WANDERIN
G AROUND THE in-law addition to the Chance home, Clayton picked up the remote for the gas fireplace and thumbed the buttons, flames leaping to life right away. He’d visited the addition briefly during his stay with Zach and Heather, just long enough to know it was being renovated. The main part of the suite—with the kitchenette and living area—had been recently remodeled. But the bedroom over the garage where Gabriella had put Mia still needed to be redone. Right now Gabby was putting away the groceries he’d brought over from Zach’s well-stocked kitchen, which left Clay at loose ends, staring out the front window across the driveway toward the main house.

  She dropped a can that rolled across the floor and she cursed lightly. No doubt about it, Gabby was freaked out to be here at her childhood home. It hadn’t occurred to him how difficult this would be for her when she’d suggested it back at the hospital. But seeing the way she carefully didn’t look out the window at the sprawling Craftsman where she’d grown up—and remembering how quickly she’d latched on to his offer to raid her brother’s kitchen on her behalf—Clay understood that she wanted no part of being in that house.

  “Can I help with anything?” he offered, wanting to put her at ease somehow.

  He’d already checked them out of the motel and brought their bags here. He’d texted with her brother, as well, making sure the guy didn’t mind Clay returning to the house. After that he’d phoned his friend and foster brother, Sam Reyes, to give him a heads-up. It couldn’t hurt to have the local sheriff aware of the situation. Besides, he’d figured Sam might have a contact at the local high school to help keep an eye on Mia.

  “No.” Gabriella stuffed a plastic grocery bag into a drawer near the stove and then grabbed a couple of bottles of water from a stainless-steel refrigerator in the U-shaped kitchen. She stared at him over the counter as she poured the water into two glasses. “I’m just agitated and uneasy, so I’m finding things to do with the nervous energy. Sorry.”

  Joining him in the living area, she set the water on the wooden tray centered on a big white ottoman then dropped into the white canvas sectional that wrapped around two walls. A silver sunburst decorated the gray wall over her head, reflecting the pendant lights from the kitchen. The place was quiet except for the hum of the television, which she’d flipped on to watch local news coverage of the Covington trial. The volume was almost too low to hear, but now and again the station flashed footage of the courthouse and stills of anticipated witnesses.

  Clay lowered himself to the cushion next to her, knowing he needed to broach an unwelcome topic.

  “It was good of you to find a solution for Mia today.” He reached for Gabriella, needing to connect with her after the hell of the last few hours. He lined up their hands, touching palm to palm, then shifted clockwise to thread his fingers between hers. “But I don’t want you to think she’s your responsibility.”

  She tensed beside him, but she didn’t pull away. He rested their connected hands on her thigh, feeling the warmth of her through the dark skirt she wore.

  “I don’t want her to go through what I went through, Clay.” Staring down at the floor, she didn’t even look up at him. “It hurts to have the people you count on abandon you when you need them most.”

  He ground his teeth together, needing to think through his response. It seemed clear as day to him that Gabriella was overreacting because of her own past, but how could he say as much when she was in the middle of this trial and back at her childhood home with so many bad memories?

  “That’s just it. She’s never counted on me, Gabriella. I haven’t been a part of her life and I’m not ready to set up house as a substitute parent. My home and my business are in Memphis. My apartment only has one bedroom and I work late, erratic hours as a PI.” He shook his head as he recounted the practical reasons he couldn’t step in with the girl even if he wanted to. “It wouldn’t be fair to Mia.”

  “Nothing has been fair for Mia.” Gabby turned on him, eyes glinting a determined light. “At least you are family. Do you think it was easy for me to leave my friends and my school? The only life I’d known? Of course not. But kids are adaptable. And they respond to people who care about them.”

  “Do you hear what you’re saying?” Clay struggled to remain patient. “This isn’t about what you went through. It’s about Mia.”

  Her jaw flexed before she huffed out a sigh. “I know that. But she deserves better.” She sipped from one of the tall glasses of water she’d brought over to the ottoman. “I’m hoping she’s just upset about Pete and that she’ll come around to see I’m not as much of a traitor as she thinks.”

  She spoke softly, but it was clear that the loss of Mia’s trust had hurt her. Gabriella invested in the people she tried to help, that was for damn sure.

  “She’ll come around. She’s just worried about what will happen after Pete dies.” Clay knew it as well as Gabby did, but he would be there to make sure she got into a good home that understood kids like her.

  Gabriella set down her water glass. “Did you catch her expression when the hospital liaison mentioned her social worker?”

  “I did. Mrs. Duchesne was her name.” Something wasn’t right there. “Believe me, I’m going to do some investigating into that woman and whatever went on while Mia was under her supervision. I’ve got a lot of friends in the foster system thanks to my own experience and the cases I take on. Reuniting families—and foster families—is a specialty of mine.”

  “People ask you to reunite them with their foster families?” She sounded surprised, but she seemed to relax a little after that nervous whirl of energy in the kitchen. She shifted on the couch cushion to face him, tilting her head onto the seat back as she looked at him.

  Clay wanted to pull her into his arms and keep her there. To fall right into those endlessly blue eyes of hers. Not even the charged disagreement about Mia could dull the fact that they felt something for one another.

  It would be so simple to follow this powerful attraction that had always been there between them, and he was so damn hungry to forget about everything that happened with his father today. But she was more important to him than that. She meant more to him than just a distraction.

  So he held back.

  “Sure they do. For some kids, their foster families were the only ones that showed them any love. And while some kids stay with their foster parents for years, others are only in their care for a few months. But even that short time can make a huge impression on a vulnerable kid. Years later they realize they want to thank the family but—for whatever reason—sometimes they can’t locate them.”

  “So you find them.” A hint of a smile ghosted over her lips.

  “Yes, ma’am. One hundred percent success rate so far. I even found a family who’d moved to Australia to be with their grown son who wanted to start a farm down under.”

  “That seems very good of you.” She smiled for real then and he was transported right back to his teenage years when he was trying so damned hard to win her approval with his math homework. Or with anything.

  Making serious Gabriella Chance smile was special.

  “I like working with decent people sometimes.” He needed to mix it up a bit in his line of work. And yes, that part of his job spoke to him on another level by giving him a way to pay things forward as thanks to the foster family that had saved his life, made his successful adulthood possible. “Too often I’m tracking down white collar thieves for their employers or finding scam artists who operate under multiple names online—stuff that makes you forget there are a lot of good people in the world. Reuniting the families is a welcome change from that.”

  “And now you’re reuniting your own foster family,” she observed, squeezing his hand. “Sam Reyes is organizing the Hasting fosters’ get-together on Saturday. Plus, today you saw your biological father for the first time in...how long?”

  He sure as hell hadn
’t viewed his visit to Pete as a reunion, but he wasn’t ready to leap into that discussion right now. He stared into the orange-yellow flicker in the fireplace, channeling his restlessness into messing with the remote to adjust the height of the flames.

  “Three years. I saw him a few times after I finished high school, back when I was trying to find all my half siblings.” Their conversations were usually conducted when Pete was already halfway through his bottle of bargain bin whiskey.

  Clay turned the remote on the gas fireplace again. This conversation was making him twitchy. Recognizing as much, he forced himself to set the device down.

  “And he helped you?” Gabriella leaned forward to grab her water, sliding her hand free from his to lift it from the tray. Her pale hair brushed against the shoulders of the buttery-yellow sweater she wore.

  He already missed her touch, but he needed to let her make the first move if anything was going to happen between them. Seeing how nervous she’d been in court today gave him a good idea of how far she’d come to put the past behind her. How much effort she’d put into making peace with the man who’d hurt her. The parent who’d abandoned her. It made him realize how tightly he’d held on to his old resentments.

  “Not necessarily by choice.” Clay didn’t talk about the man who’d fathered him much, but he understood that sometimes you had to open up to someone to get the same in return. He was willing to try for the sake of getting closer to Gabriella. “Pete has always been bad-tempered, and he never had any use for me. But over the years I got pretty good at knowing the right time in the drinking cycle to ask him questions about his past to gather some leads on possible kids. Pete needed enough alcohol to get his brain working and his mood relaxed, but if he had too much he turned angry.”

  “That sounds awful.” Gabby set down the glass on a coaster and then tucked one foot under her on the couch, the firelight casting a golden glow on her face. “And time-consuming.”