When he had a day off, Flynn liked to swing by Mercy House to hang out with the others. He truly considered them all his brothers, though they’d spent various amounts of time under the same roof. So far, Fischer was the only one in the house who might have that chance at adoption, possibly because he was younger than the others. Recently, a seemingly pleasant couple had shown interest in him. It was a touchy subject, and Flynn debated bringing it up while the two of them were out.
“Since we really can’t shoot pool at Surly Bird’s, you’ll have to come up with another plan, little dude.”
Fischer frowned, twisting his mouth as he thought about it. “Ice cream?”
“We can do that.” Flynn chuckled. “I’ll bring something back for the rest of you, okay?”
Despite raising his voice, all he got in return for that statement was a thumbs up from Sterling. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Flynn pointed to the front door so he and Fischer could be on their way. Sometimes he and his brothers just hung out at the house, playing video games or throwing a ball in the backyard. Other times he took them out for pizza, usually on payday. The strange looks they got used to rub him the wrong way, but he'd learned to get over it. Despite often feeling like a single dad to five sons, it didn't matter what other people thought. If he had been their dad, he proved better at it than their real fathers.
“Barb said the Wilsons are coming again tomorrow.”
So much for worrying about a sensitive subject. As they climbed into Flynn’s old gray beater, he debated how to respond. Cranking the rattling engine, he finally said, “How do you feel about that?”
“Judge always said I have a choice.”
“Yes, the judge has said that a few times about your mom.”
Several moments of silence passed as Fischer stared out the window on the way to the ice cream parlor. “They seem nice.”
“I haven’t met them, kid, but you should trust your instinct.”
“What if—” Cutting off, Fischer brought the heel of his palm up to swipe angrily at his eyes.
Flynn’s stomach dropped. “What if they’re faking?”
“Yeah.”
His voice had gone tiny, dropped lower than the rock in Flynn’s gut. What if it turned out they were abusive fucks who would do the same type of shit as Fischer’s stepdad? “Look, they have to have extensive background checks. They have home visits, and I don’t know, a bunch of pretty invasive stuff. If they were horrible, the agency would know by now.”
“Why can’t I just live with you?” Sitting up straighter, Fischer turned to focus fully on Flynn’s profile. “I’d be real good, and I’d clean up after myself. You’d hardly know I was there.”
Biting back tears of his own, Flynn swallowed a few times before he could respond. “We’ve talked about this. I’m not the type of adult who’s capable of earning custody of you.”
“You’re not as fucked up as Frank,” Fischer muttered.
“Language!” Though the reprimand was more for the kid’s sake than anything he cared about, Flynn said it automatically. They’d heard it often enough from Barb. “I don't have what they’re looking for, and you know it.”
“I know.” His voice had gone sullen, and he went back to staring out the window.
“But if you give the new people a chance, the Wilsons, then maybe you can have a good life. They can give you what you need.”
“And what do I need?”
“A loving, stable family.”
There was nothing else to say after that. They pulled into the lot of the ice cream place, and Fischer dragged his feet on the way in. But once he spotted the many flavors and toppings to choose from, his demeanor changed. Flynn knew better than most what the kid was going through. He just hoped the Wilsons really did have good intentions, because it looked as though they were going to win custody of little Fischer.
Briefly, Flynn wondered what it would take for him to be an acceptable adult according to the state. A better job, where he didn't leave at the crack of dawn and return past dark? A bigger place, certainly, in a better area with less crime. Maybe someone who didn't drink as much in his downtime.
That thought brought him back to the previous night and the cop who’d tried to pull a fast one on him. He could only imagine her opinion of him, since he’d outed her to the bar patrons. The last thing they needed was the law sticking their nose where it didn't belong. It didn't matter how hot she was, how deep the V of her neckline, or the fact that just thinking about her made him uncomfortably hot. She had devious intentions—and not the same devious intentions he carried around.
As he sat beside Fischer, he tried to push her image out of his mind to focus on the telling of the kid’s latest test scores. Good riddance to bad rubbish, was all he could think, even as her face loomed back in front of him. Thick hair, full lips, and huge brown eyes.
Fuck, he needed to get laid. But first, he had to refocus on the kid, or he’d be in serious trouble.
