Clarity

by Nicole Dykes

  Maybe if Blair and Bree weren’t right there, I would have.

  I flex my swollen fingers as Bree sits on the couch next to Rhett, staring at her phone, worry in her eyes. She didn’t seem frightened about Herrington coming back, but the fact that Fletcher hasn’t showed up yet is definitely worrying her.

  “I’m sure he’s okay.” I try to offer comfort before her wide, blue eyes lift and meet my stare.

  “He wouldn’t just ignore me.”

  Rhett shrugs, I think trying to make her feel better too. “Eh, he ignores me.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t really like you,” Bree teases.

  “Do you want me to take you over there?” I offer. My hand hurts like a motherfucker, and I really just want to go upstairs and get lost in Blair, but the concern on Bree’s face is too much.

  “You’ll do that?” Damn it. She looks too hopeful.

  I look over at Blair, who’s already standing up from the couch. “Let’s all go.”

  Rhett and Bree share a look, a secretive gaze between the two of them, and then Bree looks over at me. “He won’t like us just showing up at his foster home.”

  Blair swings her designer bag over her shoulder. “I’ve already been there.”

  Rhett looks slightly annoyed, maybe a little embarrassed when she reminds them that she tracked down his and Fletcher’s foster homes. Neither is in a great area.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” I say, guiding them toward the door and out to my car.

  When we pull up to the shabby neighborhood, poorly-lit and rundown, the first thing I see is Fletcher sitting on the cement stairs in front of a house. Damn it.

  “Oh no.” Bree’s voice is quiet as she looks out the window at her friend.

  It’s cold out here, and the kid is only wearing a t-shirt and jeans with holes in them. I can see his breath in the light cast from the moon. “I’ll be right back,” I say as I'm already pushing the door open, but of course my little pain in the ass, Bree, is already out of the car before I slam my door shut.

  We both walk up to Fletcher, leaving Rhett and Blair in the car. The kid is looking down at his feet and grumbles quietly, “Just go away.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Bree sounds far too much like Blair when she says that and takes a seat right next to him on the stoop.

  “Bree. You’re such a pain.”

  I stand in front of them both. “You okay?”

  He waves me off. “I’m fine. Just go.”

  “Let’s see,” Bree says it like they’ve been through this scenario before, and I struggle with my own demons as Fletcher raises his eyes to meet hers, showing off the shiner and split lip.

  I wish I was surprised. I wish this sight, a twelve-year-old, skinny kid with bruises and blood on his face, was jarring to me. But it’s not.

  “God damn it,” I seethe.

  I see the tears form in Bree’s eyes as she swipes her thumb gently over his swollen eyes. He hisses, but he doesn’t push her away. “I’m okay, Bree.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re not. You’re not at all.” She looks over at me, and somehow that one look fills me with pride. She looks to me for help. I guarantee you this kid doesn’t like asking for help, but she knows she can come to me.

  “We’re leaving,” I say, and Fletcher nods his head, wiping at his nose, and I see the blood on his hand.

  “Good. I’ll be okay.”

  I shake my head. “No.” I gesture to Bree, him, and me. “We’re all going.”

  He looks up at me, dark, intense eyes, jaded and already so damn tired at his age. “He’ll kill me. It’s past nine.”

  “He’s not going to touch you.” I look back at the car and see Blair’s intense eyes prodding me for an answer, wanting to jump in herself, and then I look back at Fletcher. “We’re going to the cops.”

  “What?” He stands up suddenly, shaking his head. “No. No, I won’t do that.”

  “You have to, kid.” I place my hand on my chest. “Believe me. You have to. You don’t deserve this.”

  “They won’t believe me anyway.”

  I point at his face. “Kind of hard to deny if we go right now.”

  “Please Fletch,” Bree pleads with him and stands up, taking his hand, not exactly a fan of all the touching either, but I guess the kid needs some comfort. So, I press forward.

  “Come on.” I start walking toward the car, not giving him a chance to argue with me. I can hear Bree and him behind me and open my door, climbing behind the wheel.

  Bree climbs into the back, and Fletcher follows. I hear Rhett’s voice as I close my door and put the car in drive. “That asshole.”

  Blair glances in the back seat, and I can feel her weary eyes on me. No one says anything as I drive us to the nearest police station. Fletcher makes a report, and we get clearance for him to stay with us tonight.

  After setting the kids up in the living room, Blair and I go upstairs. She closes the door and then moves silently to the bed, looking so goddamn numb it barely looks like her. Great, I'm really starting to rub off on her.

  “Blair?” I sit on the edge of the bed, wanting to comfort her. But the day has been so fucking long, my nerves are shot, and I don’t want to freak out from the contact.

  “We can’t save them all.” Her words are breathless, and she sounds hopeless.

  “No. We can’t.” I sigh, pushing my fingers through my hair. “But maybe we can save a few.”

  She looks over at me, her eyebrow lifted. “Like the few down in our living room?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “We are certified to be foster parents.”

  She turns on the bed to face me better, tucking a leg under her. “You want to foster Rhett and Fletcher?”

  I drop my hands to my thighs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “They’re Bree’s family.”

  “But they aren’t related.” And they’re both boys.

  She’s thinking, I can see it on her face. Several thoughts are turning around in there. “It’s like Sean, Quinn, Logan, and you.”

  “Not helping the case. Quinn and Logan are married now.”

  She laughs at that, letting her head tip back slightly. “You can’t be afraid of Bree falling in love, Rhys. It’s going to happen, and she already loves both of them. It would be normal for that to morph into real love someday.”

  I cringe at that thought, wanting her to stay young forever. “Maybe we’ll just care for them until they can find a nice home to run out puberty.”

  She laughs again. “You aren’t keeping them apart even if they aren’t living together.”

  “You really think she’s going to date one of them?”

  She slips her top off, letting it fall to the floor. “Maybe. Maybe both. Maybe neither. I don’t know. I just know you can’t stop it.”

  “So, we’re going to do this?”

  She smiles, nodding her head instantly, and I can tell she’s already sold. “Let’s rescue some kids. Do some damn good.”

  “Okay, Blair.”

  She’s beaming now as she crawls to me over the bed. “Now, get naked.”

  I grin, liking her hungriness for me.

  Something I used to fight but don’t think I will ever again.

  Thanksgiving and Christmas have come and gone. We’ve had Rhett and Fletcher in our home since we found out Fletcher was being abused. We have long-term care licenses, and although the social worker—not Ms. Winters, thankfully—checks in occasionally, everything has been smooth.

  We, okay Blair, offered to pay for the boys to go to private school, but they both declined. Surprisingly, Bree has stuck there. I think it was easier for her to make that decision now that she can come home to the guys.

  I’m just finishing with a customer when the door dings open, and a kid who can’t be over eighteen walks in. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  I take the payment from the guy with a fresh tattoo, and he thanks me before leaving. I turn to the kid, and I feel like I
’ve seen him somewhere before, but can’t place him. “Hey, Rhys.”

  His dark hair is shaggy, and his clothes are tattered, but he’s a good-looking kid. There’s a smirk on his face as his green eyes meet mine. “Christian?”

  His smile widens. “Yeah. You remember me?”

  I nod. We grew up in the same area. I’m five or six years older than him and haven’t seen him since I was eighteen, but yeah, I know him. “Yeah. Charity’s little brother.”

  He nods again. “Yup, that’s me.”

  Charity is a couple of years older than me. They moved into the hellhole right before I left. “Are you okay?”

  He just laughs, sitting down on the bench I have for customers. “I’m fine. Just looking for a job.”

  “Here?”

  He shrugs. “If you’ll have me.”

  He’s acting cool, but I can tell he’s desperate. “Are you eighteen yet?”

  He nods. “Yesterday.”

  “Okay.” The shop has been turning a profit lately, and I can afford someone to help around here, especially someone who needs an out as badly as I’m sure he does. “I’ll hire you. You have a place to stay?”

  “I’ll find somewhere.”

  I look up. “There’s an apartment above this place. If you’re working here, it’s yours.”

  “Thank you, Rhys.”

  I offer him a quick nod, uncomfortable with his thanks, feeling like it’s the least I can do for this kid, one of the kids left behind in that fucking house.

  I swallow tightly, bile rising in my throat wishing away memories and guilt. “How’s your sister?”

  He visibly tenses and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a while. She bailed as soon as she turned eighteen.”

  “Jesus.” I want to ask him so many things, but his eyes are pleading with me not to.

  I’m almost certain when he says bailed, he means from the Bradfords. He was only eleven when they took him and Charity in. Seven years. Seven fucking years in that house of horrors.

  My blood runs cold, and I ache from the inside out. “I’ll show you your new home.”

  He forces a smile, but I see the pain he pushes deep down. I want to tell him he’s going to be okay, but I don’t fucking know that.

  All I know is I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he is.

  After getting him settled and giving him some cash to pick up some things he may need, I go home to Blair. I’m tense and angry. The guilt inside me is threatening to swallow me whole.

  I should have tried harder to get them all to believe me. I knew other kids were there. I knew Charity and Christian from school and a group home before the Bradfords. I knew them. And I let them suffer.

  Blair is on the bed, tucked under the covers, but she has her iPad on her lap and looks up at me with a smile. “Finally.”

  “Miss me?”

  She nods her head, her ring glistening on her finger like a beacon for me to join her, to be near her. My heart knows she’s the only thing that’s going to make me feel any better. I kick my shoes off and climb onto the bed, glancing at her screen and seeing she has a real estate site up. “Looking for a new house?”

  “I think we need a bigger house.”

  I shake my head and tuck an arm under my neck. “Why? So we can collect more kids?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugs. “I like it. And the ones we have could probably use a little more room.”

  Right now, the boys are sharing a room, and Bree has her own. “You’re crazy.”

  Doesn’t bother her, and I admire the fuck out of Blair. “I like the idea of saving several little Rhyses.”

  “I told you I don’t like that nickname.” She laughs, ignoring my broody ass.

  She doesn’t have to do any of this. She didn’t have to marry me and adopt a kid. She didn’t have to take in foster kids. But she wants to. She wants to be the good in the world. And she is.

  Her hand rakes through my hair, and I only smile at the action. No wincing. It feels good. “What’s wrong?”

  She always knows. “A kid from my past showed up at the shop, wanting a job.”

  “Did you give it to them?”

  I nod. “Yeah.” I look up at her. “I guess I want to save some kids too.”

  She smiles at that, big and full of hope. “Good. Are they okay?”

  “He’s fine. I guess.” I swallow the pain down, closing my eyes and letting her stroke my hair. “He lived with the Bradfords.”

  “Oh shit,” she breathes.

  “Yeah.”

  She puts the iPad down and lays her head on my shoulder, curling her body to mine, and I let her fill in the piece of me that’s been missing as she presses against me. “It’s good that you gave him a job then. You’ll be the perfect boss.”

  “I don’t know if I'm strong enough for it, Blair,” I admit it begrudgingly.

  “You are. You’re the strongest person I know.”

  I turn and press a kiss to her temple. “That’s you, Blair. You are, without a doubt, the strongest person either of us know.”

  “I told my dad we’re married.” Her hand slides over my t-shirt, over my chest.

  “Wow. How did that go?” She doesn’t talk to her dad often, and when she does, it’s usually about business from what I've gathered.

  “Fine. He was pissed I didn’t get a prenup.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  She laughs, her finger tracing over my pec. “Oh, I know, but it’s yours if anything happens to me, regardless.” She tugs at the hem of my t-shirt. “I really want this off.”

  I lift up and oblige, pulling it up and over my head, tossing it to the floor. “I don’t want your money.”

  Her finger swirls over the tattoo on my chest and then down the sleeve of tattoos on my arm. “I don’t really care, Rhys. You’re my husband. If something happens to me, I want to make sure Bree, Rhett, Fletcher, and you are okay.” Her finger slides down the middle of my abs, following the carved muscles. “The house is in my name so we can sell it and get a bigger one. The trust is also in my name. And I've put both in your name also, along with college funds for all three kids.”

  She knows I don’t give a damn about money, but the thought that she’s planned that far ahead does something to me, something crazy. I like planning for the future, but I can’t imagine one without her in it. “So, we’re like, really married, aren’t we?”

  She just snorts a laugh at me. “You’re an idiot.” I smirk, and she kisses the corner of my mouth where it’s curving up. “Yes. I think it stopped being for show a long time ago.”

  “Or it never was,” I say, looking down into her eyes.

  “Yeah.” She kisses my lips. “Maybe it never was.”

  It never was.

  I lay next to Rhys and look out the window. It’s still dark outside, not even morning yet. But so many thoughts are running through my head. I worry that Rhys hiring someone from his past will hurt him, but I'm so damn proud of him for helping that kid.

  I want to save them all.

  I’m guilty of that.

  The house I have my eye on has six bedrooms, and I’m already thinking about how we could possibly take in two more kids who need a good home. Bree, Fletcher, and Rhett are all safe. It would be good to move though, so that fucker, Herrington, can’t find Bree. Still, we keep a close eye on her, and I know Rhett and Fletcher do the same.

  Let him try to get near her. It will be the last thing he ever does.

  I can also feel how tense Rhys is as he sleeps. He rarely sleeps peacefully, and I'm not sure he ever will. But he does let me touch him more and more. I would love to help him relieve a little tension, pull down the covers and take him into my mouth, but I don’t think that would go over well yet.

  I hate what that fucking bitch took from him, but it doesn’t matter. I know it doesn’t. I have Rhys, and I love every single thing about him.

  It was never for show. I’ve loved him since the first night
he couldn’t fuck me. He felt like he was using me, but he’s truly the only person who’s ever made me feel useful.

  “You’re staring.” I hear his voice rumble, and I jump in surprise.

  “You’re awake?”

  “You’re staring. I can feel you.”

  I feel slightly bad about that, wondering if I spooked him. My voice is raspy and meek when I ask, “Did you think it was her?”

  He laughs and the sound is beautiful as he pulls me to his side. “No. I didn’t.”

  “You can tell me. I’m sure it’s still hard waking up next to me.” I feel a stupid girly tear slide down my cheek and onto his bare chest.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I hate what she took from you. I hate that I’m never going to be able to wake you up in a sexy fashion because of what that bitch did to you.”

  He holds me closer, which makes me smile. “I knew it was you and not her, Blair. You smell different.”

  “What?” I look up at him.

  “She had this really expensive perfume. It almost smelled clinical.” His hand strokes my back. “Yours is kind of sweet. I like it.”

  I look down again, barely able to make out his taut abs in the dark. “You know the difference?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “I hate what they did to you, Rhys,” I choke through the tears that fall. “But I love everything about you.” I look up at him again and wipe the stupid tears from my face. “Everything.”

  “I love you, Blair.” I gape at him, the words causing my heart to squeeze. “You made me like myself again.”

  “Just like? Not love?”

  “I’m working on it. I did a lot of shitty things when I was high or drunk, things that make it hard to like me. But I'm getting there.”

  There’s nothing he could do to make me not love him, but I’m grateful for him staying sober. “I get that. I spent a long time building up my bitchy persona and not liking myself very much either.”

  “I love everything about you too.” He dips his head down, his lips nearing mine as he growls, “Badass Barbie.”

  I roll my eyes but smile and give him a quick kiss as his hand swipes over my side and up to my breasts.