Angel of Redemption (25 page)

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Authors: J. A. Little

BOOK: Angel of Redemption
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Before you go, you and I need to have
a little chat.

Logan
turns back toward me. I can see him scanning my face, trying to figure out what
this conversation is going to be about, but I

m not giving anything away.


Sit back down,

I say firmly, not giving him the option to decline. He sits
down slowly. His body language tells me he

s just put up his guard.

Did
you think I wouldn

t find out about Saturday night?


What are you talking about?

he asks innocently.


I

m not playing games with you, Logan. We have rules for a
reason. You can

t
go around breaking them whenever you feel like it.


They

re
stupid rules,

he spits.


I let a lot slip by in this house, but
there are limits. No drinking, no drugs, no breaking curfew, and absolutely no
blowing off restriction.


You

re such a fucking hypocrite. It

s not like I

m in jail for being a fucking meth
junkie.

His words hit me hard

I wasn

t expecting them so soon. My arrest and subsequent sentence
was in the papers
—there’s nothing I can do to
prevent anyone from finding out—but
usually the kids live here a bit longer before trying to
throw it in my face.


Do not try to use me as an example to
defend yourself,

I say sharply.

I wasn

t in jail at your age, and I wasn

t a junkie.


Bullshit!

he yells. This kid

s about to push me to a place I

d rather not go.


Regardless,

I snap.

This isn

t about me. Prison is not the
direction you want to go.


I snuck out. I didn

t rob a fucking bank.


You live under my roof, you follow my rules. You

re on restriction for the rest of the
week and all weekend,

I say, rubbing my hand over my face.

You go to school, you go to work, and you come home. Do you
understand? This weekend you do not leave this property. Period.

Logan
glares at me, his jaw clenched. He

s shaking his head.

Fine!
What-the-fuck-ever. Doesn

t matter this week anyway.

He storms out of my office. This is precisely why I need
someone strong in this new position. Logan

s size and attitude alone would be intimidating to most.
Luckily, I

m
not most.

 

* * *

 


You
heading out?

Emily asks as I pass her office the
next morning.


I

ll be back in a little over an hour.


No rush.

She smiles and looks back at her computer.

I
don

t
have to drive to where I

m going. It

s only a few blocks away, and the cold winter air clears my
head. I smile at Mrs. Thibodeau, a little old lady with white hair and a quick
wit, and offer her my arm as I climb the old stone steps.


Thank you, Dean. You

re such a sweet boy,

she says, patting my hand. She says this frequently

every time I have the urge to tell her
she

s the only one who thinks so, but I
don

t because I like her company. I help
her to her pew and then sit down a few rows ahead of her, kneeling and bowing
my head.

I

ve been coming to church most Tuesday
mornings for the last six years. When I was a kid my parents made us go every
Sunday, but I never understood why. It wasn

t until I was locked up that I found
my faith. It

s
clich
é
, but it

s true. I spent a lot of time talking
with the priest, sorting out exactly what happened to me. It helped a little,
so when I started working at Wyatt House, I found my way here, to this little
neighborhood church. I use the time to focus and look for forgiveness. I

m hoping I

ll find it someday.

A
little later I try to call Kayla to confirm our lunch for the next day only to
get her voicemail. I don

t leave a message. A couple of minutes later, I get a text.

 

In a mtng. What’s up?

 

I snort to myself and type a response.

 

Should U B texting in a meeting?

 

No. UR right. C ya
 
Hold up!
 
C what U get? LOL.
 
Don’t tease. I have a serious issue.
 
That sounds dangerous. Lol. What can I do for U?
 
Are you cumming tomorrow?

 

Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Tell me I did not just send that. I immediately start typing again.

 

Coming. I meant COMING. Stupid phone.

 

That’s right, blame it on the phone and not my
filthy fucking mind. Kayla doesn’t respond. I hope to God I didn’t just land
myself with a sexual harassment charge. Twenty minutes later, my phone rings.


You got me into trouble, mister.


I did?


I was in the middle of Sensitivity
Training and spit my soda out all over the table. The presenter figured out I
was texting and not paying attention. Not cool.


It was an accident,

I say as convincingly as possible.

My phone did it.


Uh-huh. Sure. You realize that
autocorrect jumps to words you use regularly first, right?

she teases. Before I can think of a clever retort, she
starts talking again.

Now what was your question?


Are you coming for lunch tomorrow?

The line is silent. I think I might have lost her.

Kayla?


Doesn

t sound any less dirty when you
actually say it,

she giggles.


Yes or no, dammit?

I laugh.


Yes. I

ve got some things to do in the
morning, but as far as I know, I

m good to go.


Good. I

ll see you tomorrow, then.


Yes, you will.

I hang up the phone and shake my head. I can

t believe I just did that. I

m such a fucking tool.

Chapter
17

Dean

 


I

m so tired of doing this,

Emily groans, burying her head in her arms on the table.


We

ve only got three more left, sugar,

Aiden soothes.

Then
we

ll
have a nice, new, shiny employee.

I
roll my eyes. Emily

s right. This whole process is exhausting and tedious. I
would have had my dad do it, but he

s not the one who has to actually work with this person. He

d take the one who looked best on
paper. Unfortunately, the one who looked best on paper was a total douche.


I don

t think any of these people are going
to work,

I grumble.


Don

t say that. I don

t want to have to do this all over
again,

Emily whines.


You all want some lunch?

Tracey asks from the doorway. Aiden and Emily both nod
affirmatively. Tracey looks at me.


I

m going out for lunch,

I say, hoping no one asks me for details. No such luck.


You are?

Emily asks.

With who?


I have a business lunch with Kayla,

I mutter.


Where are you guys going?


I don

t know. She might just be coming here.
We were supposed to meet last week, but she had an emergency court hearing.

I

m trying to play this off as no big deal, but I

m not sure I

m doing a very good job. I can see my
brother literally biting his tongue.


Okay,

Tracey says, smiling.

Have
fun. By the way, Bill

s in the basement working on the water heater, but I think
we

re
going to need a new one.

I
frown, but nod. I figured as much. That water heater is only ten years old, but
it

s
taken a beating.


Are we done for now?

Emily asks, looking at me and then at her husband.


Yes,

we both answer.


Good. I

ve got a doctor

s appointment later, so if I don

t see Kayla, tell her I said hello.


Will do.


Have fun,

Aiden says, smiling cheekily at me. Bastard.

I
sit in my office for a few more minutes before my phone rings. Speak of the
devil.


You better not be calling to cancel on
me,

I warn playfully.

I

ll show up to your office and you will not be able to get
rid of me.


Are you trying to get me to cancel?

Kayla teases.

This
feels an awful lot like flirting. Is it okay for friends to flirt? I think it
is. I like flirting with her.

“Kayla.”


Oh, calm down,

she laughs.

I

m not calling to cancel. I

m downtown. You want to meet me at The
Kitchen?


Yeah,

I agree.

At one o

clock?


Yep.


I

ll be there.

A few hours later, I make my way into downtown
Minneapolis. Parking can be a bitch at this time of day, but eventually I find
a spot.

Kayla

s already seated when I get into the
restaurant. She stands when she sees me, and I

m nearly bowled over. She looks
incredible. I suddenly feel like a scrub in my black button-down and baggy,
ratty jeans.

Kayla
has on a black skirt that hits at her knees and a blue sweater. Her hair is
pulled back away from her face. And of course, because I

m a freak, I look at her feet

she

s wearing a pair of black, heeled boots. I yank my cap off
my head and run my hand through my hair.


Well, hello there,

she says, grinning.


Hello yourself.

She leans in for a hug and I oblige, trailing my hand from
her shoulder blades to the small of her back before letting go.

Just
as I sit down, the waitress appears. She takes our drink orders and then
disappears again.

“I probably should have dressed a little better,”
I mumble.

Kayla
frowns at me.

Why? You look fine.


Yeah, but, uh, you look much better
than fine.

I glance away quickly and then look
back at her amused face.


I had court this morning and then a
visit.


People are going to think I

m one of your clients.

I don

t know why this bothers me so much. I

ve never really cared what people
thought before. My mother does enough of that for all of us.


You

re being ridiculous, Dean. I

m the one who

s overdressed. Who gives a shit what
they think, anyway? It

s none of their business.

She smiles as me, and suddenly I

m too distracted to care what I look
like anymore.


How was the rest of your weekend?

I ask.


Fine. I had to send my sister back to
my mom and stepdad

s. It was harder than I thought it would be.


Why?


I don

t know. She was in tears. She

s stayed with us before, but I

ve never seen her like that when she
had to go back. I tried to give her a little freedom, and now I

m not sure it was such a good idea.


She doesn

t get that at home?

Kayla
scoffs.

My stepdad is a real prick. If he
could keep her locked up, he probably would.


She seems like a good kid, though.


She is, but I wasn

t. I think her parents are punishing
her for my past bad behavior.


You were a little hellion?

I ask, smirking.


Something like that,

Kayla replies quietly, looking over her menu. I do the same
while wondering just how much trouble she got into when she was younger. Was it
just normal, teenage hijinks? I can

t
imagine her getting into serious trouble. And I

m
pretty sure she never spent any time in juvie. I have a pretty good eye for
that. I frown. If she thinks she was a bad kid, what would she think of the
things I

ve done?

The
waitress brings back our drinks and sets them down.

Are you ready to order?

she asks timidly. She glances at me, but when we make eye
contact she quickly looks back at Kayla.

We
order our lunch and she leaves us again. Kayla takes a drink of her iced tea
and then looks up at me.


What

s
the matter?


What do you mean?


You look ticked off. That poor
waitress probably thought you were going to bite her.

I
quickly adjust my expression.

I was just thinking.


About something that made you mad?


No.

I shake my head.


About what, then?

I
don

t want to tell her what I was really
thinking about, so I improvise.

I think Logan has a girlfriend,

I blurt out.

Kayla

s eyes widen.

Like a
girlfriend
girlfriend? Or like some girl he

s messing around with? Because he does
that a lot. Mess around, I mean.


I don

t know,

I say, shrugging.

I
think it

s
more than just a fling, though.

She
furrows her forehead.

Shit.


What?


I just

He has so much going on right now. I

m not sure a girlfriend is such a good
idea. Maybe I should talk to him about waiting.


Good luck with that one,

I laugh. Kayla groans and leans her head back against the
booth.

I

ll talk to him if you want me to, but I don

t think he

s in the mood to listen to me this
week.


Why not? What did you do?


So quick to assume it was me?

I ask, feigning insult.


No! That

s
not
…”

I
chuckle.

Relax, sweetheart. I

m just teasing you. He snuck out on Saturday night to see
said girlfriend.


Oh, shit,

she groans.


And he was already on restriction.


What the hell did he do to get put on
restriction?

She leans forward and takes a few sips
of her drink. I

m distracted by the pursing of her
lips as she pulls the liquid through the straw.


Dean?

I
startle, trying to remember what I was saying.

Uh,
he came in past curfew on Friday night.


Jesus Christ, Dean,

she growls.

You

ve
got to tell me these things.


Sweetheart, if I called the social
workers every time one of those jokers got into trouble, I

d have the phone permanently attached
to my ear.

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