Before I could think too much more about it, Ryker checked his phone. His expression shifted instantly, lips thinning into a hard line, jaw tightening in a way that made my palms sweat.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
His eyes met mine, dark and fierce. “Work stuff.”
I got the distinct impression that “work stuff” was code for something catastrophically bad regarding me. My case. My future. But when he stepped forward, effectively blocking my view of his phone screen, I could tell he wasn’t going to tell me what it was.
Yet.
16
RYKER
“Are you fostering those kids?” I handed Faith a plate to dry.
The scent of meatballs with spaghetti still lingered in the kitchen as I stacked the last of the dinner plates. Through the archway, I could hear the three teenagers settling into the living room.
“No.” She took the dish, her fingers brushing mine for just a second longer than necessary. The contact sent a rush of heat through me, making me want to pull her to me again. Kiss her again. Do more than just kiss her. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“One I’d love to hear, if you’d be willing to share it with me.”
The prospect of her finally opening up to me, trusting me with something else the way she’d trusted me enough to bring me here, to this place that clearly meant so much to her. Damn. It lit me up like fireworks.
Faith’s dish towel stilled in her hands. From the living room came the soft sound of Todd’s guitar and Jessica and Brooklyn gently arguing over the remote. Any one of them could wander in here at any moment, and I sensed Faith wouldn’t be okay with that.
Any second, this conversation could get interrupted.
“There are wonderful things in the foster care system,” shebegan, her voice barely audible over the running water. “Wonderful homes and an ocean of loving, well-intentioned people.” She set down the plate with trembling fingers and gripped the edge of the counter. “Like anything else in life though, there are also some people who have no business being involved with it. Adults who are in desperate need of help themselves have no business trying to give it to other people. Especially vulnerable children.”
I turned off the faucet and moved closer, finding myself watching her lips, eagerly waiting for every word, while simultaneously feeling an ominous chill settle over me, knowing that I wasn’t going to like what I heard next.
I didn’t like hearing anything that had ever had, could, or would hurt Faith Morrison.
“My whole time in the foster care system, I looked forward to one thing: turning eighteen and saying goodbye to it forever.” Her smile was bitter as she picked up another plate, her movements mechanical.
I turned the faucet back on, letting the hot water cascade over my hands as I picked up a dirty dish. The lavender-scented soap created soft bubbles that clung to my fingers, and I focused on scrubbing, not because I needed my hands to be busy, but because I sensed she did. And if that made it easier for her to talk, I’d wash dishes until my hands were raw.
“But I was naive. When I turned eighteen, the family I was living with kicked me out literally that day. The moment their responsibility was over, they put me down by the curb like a used, unwanted sofa.”
Intense rage wound through my chest.
How. Fucking. Dare. They.
My attention wandered to the living room, unable to imagine how heartless someone would have to be to shove these kids out onto the street. Especially a woman, who I’d learned the hard way through years as a lawyer, was significantly more likelyto be violently attacked on the streets. Not to mention how heartbreaking and terrifying that must have been for Faith.
My respect for her grew a hundredfold in that instant. How many people would be standing here, housing other teens, making them dinner, supporting their friends, still able to crack jokes in life, having gone through that?
And that didn’t even begin to encapsulate what she’d gone through either. I knew I needed to hear it all. As her lawyer and as someone who cared about her. But as someone whose heart was running away with her, I also knew hearing everything she’d gone through would be one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.
Because hearing about anyone who’d mistreated her? Made me scrub this plate so hard, I thought the pattern might come off.
I could feel her studying me, watching my aggressive movements with the sponge, so I took a deep breath. Calmed myself. I didn’t want her to have to spend any energy managing me or my emotions over this. She’d already carried enough burdens alone; I wouldn’t add to them.
Rinsing the plate under the stream of hot water, I handed it to her. “I don’t know the protocol, but that seems really heartless.”
Faith stepped closer to me, probably so she could lower her voice even more, but the move brought her shoulder against mine. Fuck, I had to fight the urge to wrap my arms around her.
“I thought I had all my ducks in a row, but it turned out, the money I’d saved didn’t go as far as I thought it would.” She shook her head, frustration evident in her voice, like she blamed herself for being just an eighteen-year-old teenager who should’ve somehow known everything our parents were supposed to teach us. “Like I thought I had enough to start paying rent, but I didn’t know you needed first and last month, plus a security deposit. I didn’t know about all the other hidden costs.”
