“Someone wants to join the party,” Aiden says as he walks over to my sister and smiles. “How about I get you changed while the girls chat, pretty lady?” He looks back at me. “That okay with you, Ashton?”
“Yes...” I whisper, caught completely off guard by how much it hurts to see this man, my best friend’s father, already more involved in my life and my sister’s life than my father is. Even if it’s not fair to think that until I’ve called him. “Her room is the second on the left at the top of the stairs.”
Without hesitation, he walks out of the room, and Annabelle moves next to Sabrina, the two women looking at me with equal fascination. “So how are you really doing, Ashton?”
Umm... I guess there’s something to be said for getting straight to the point.
“Sweetie, you can talk to us. We understand this all a bit more than I fear my sons do,” Sabrina adds, putting her coffee down. “Do you have a lawyer?”
Do I have a lawyer?
Well, that’s a loaded question.
“Mom has a public defender. But I’m not sure how much he can do for her. When we spoke earlier this week, he told mehe’s trying to get her to take a plea deal.” If she pleads guilty and gives up her supplier, in return, she’ll serve ten years, with a chance of parole with good behavior and time served after five years.
Sabrina nods. “And what about you, Ashton. Do you have an attorney?”
“What do I need an attorney for?” I ask, genuinely clueless.
“Getting custody isn’t always an easy thing. I still have friends in the area practicing family law, and a few owe me favors. I’d be happy to make a few calls.”
Oh. That.
“I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything and find a job.” I stop myself before I projectile verbal-vomit. “I’m not sure I’m ready for a lawyer myself just yet,” I admit, unsure whether I’ll be able to afford them, when and if I do need them, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
“Speaking of the job...” Annabelle leans forward. “I know the Philadelphia Ballet is mid-season, so if you’re planning on staying local and waiting until their summer auditions to get into the company, I could use some help at the studio, if you’re interested.”
“What?” I ask, dazed. Did this woman really come here to offer me a job?
“Teaching will never take the place of performing, but take it from someone who had to give up performing so she could take care of her own brother, teaching can be fulfilling.” Her soft green eyes fill with emotion. “It can be a temporary thing until you figure out what you’re doing and if you’re staying in Kroydon Hills.”
“Annabelle... I can’t. You don’t have to—” I have no words.
“I know I don’t have to, Ashton. I want to. And I do need the help. One of my teachers transferred colleges after the fallsemester, so I’ve been down one since December. I really could use the help.”
“What would I do with Kyrie?” I ask as much to Sabrina and Annabelle as I do myself. How am I going to teach a class with a three-month-old in my arms?
“Bring her with you,” she assures me, like it’s no big deal. “Both my daughters were always in the studio with me so often, I swear to this day, they probably both still sleep with music playing. Besides, I’ll be there to help whenever I can.”
“Me too,” Sabrina adds. “We don’t have to go back to DC for a bit, and I’ve been antsy for grandbabies. Since I don’t have any to dote on yet, it looks like poor Kyrie is going to be stuck with me.”
Something that feels an awful lot like a sob bubbles up in my throat, but I push that shit down with all the strength I can muster.
“Oh, honey.” Sabrina slides next to me on the couch as her husband walks back into the room. “Don’t cry. This is what family’s for, and you’ve always been family.”
I haven’t cried in years, and I refuse to start now.
Instead, I force a smile, fully aware that this is a handout but not above accepting it.
“Thank you.” I glance over Annabelle and Sabrina and let my eyes land on Aiden, who’s holding Kyrie. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“Thank us by calling your dad, kiddo,” Aiden tells me gently, and my stomach sinks.
Well, fuck.
Badass Book Club
Ryker
