“Maybe I can call in a babysitter the next time you come by. I’ll take you on a ride on my bike after you’re done with Jasper’s lessons. Have a nice night, gorgeous.”
Her mouth fell open, and she didn’t seem to know how to respond to me. Eventually, she shut her door, still looking at me like I’d done something insane. I saw it as inevitable. She was too perfect for me not to shoot my shot. If the kids weren’t around, I would’ve tried for a hell of a lot more than just a kiss.
We made it to Friday without any major incidents, and Jasper went along with only minor complaints to therapy, probably because it meant he got to leave school early and be with Isla. My knee bounced as we waited in the waiting room, but I did my best to look calm so the kids would feel calm too.
“You look like you’re going to have a stroke,” Jasper pointed out with an irritated look.
Okay, I was failing at that too. I sighed, rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Nervous, I guess. I’ve never been to therapy before.”
He grunted, which was better than a salty comment, honestly, so I didn’t comment. He was holding Isla, letting her balance on his legs and holding her hands so she could stand. He was a good big brother, I’d give him that. My siblings stopped giving a shit about me when I stopped being the good little boy who was excited to go to church and never talked back to my elders. They didn’t want to get in trouble along with me. The gap only grew as we got older. Now, I was pretty sure neither of them cared if I existed.
“Have you been?” He shot me a questioning look and I clarified, “To therapy, I mean. Got any idea what’s going to happen?”
He made a face. “They tried putting us in therapy right after–” He cut himself off and I saw the emotions flash across his face before he buried them in anger in resentment. “It was a waste of time. Just like this will be a waste of time. You better hope we’re done before Isla’s nap. You screw up her schedule enough by setting off the fire alarms every other day.”
I opened my mouth to respond, I hadn’t set off the fire alarm all week, but was interrupted by someone calling our names.
“Fletcher family?” the woman asked, a kind smile on her face.
I knew the minute it came out of her mouth, it was going to piss him off. Jasper’s head whipped up and he actually bared his teeth, fury written all over his face. “Don’t call us that! He’s not my family and that’s not our name!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JASPER
Every part of me wanted to take Isla and run. We weren’t Zero’s kid. We were barely family. Mom’s estranged cousin or whatever. He didn’t know shit about us until the day we showed up on his front steps. I didn’t want anyone lumping us in with him.
Zero lifted his hands in surrender, his expression worried. “Woah, hey. No one said that’s your name. Relax, man.”
If I wasn’t holding Isla, I’d have some choice words to say about him telling me to relax. I held back because I promised our parents I’d be a good influence. They talked to me before getting pregnant again. We all decided together. I told them I’d look out for her. I promised.
I took a step back, the ache in my chest making it hard to breathe. I wouldn’t let them take my sister from me. I’d rather live on the streets than lose her. I could take care of her on my own. I didn’t need help.
The woman who had called us that stupid name narrowed her eyes slightly and offered me her clipboard. When I frownedat it, she explained, “The name on top is the insurance holder. That’s why I used that name. I promise, in the future, I’ll make sure to use your name instead.”
She didn’t tell me I was overreacting or to grow up like some of the foster families did when I wasn’t ‘acting right’. She just waited patiently, allowing me to take the clipboard and tapping her finger on the top corner where Zero’s information was printed. It was on top, so I guess it made sense that she used that first. Her finger moved down the paper to where Isla’s and my name was written. Our real names.
“You’re allowed to have preferences about how people refer to you,” she said calmly. “I apologize for assuming.”
I looked up at her suspiciously. What adult apologized to a kid? She didn’t look like she was lying though. She tipped her head slightly, giving me an understanding smile. “Would you prefer if we try again another day? You don’t have to be here, you know. It’s my job to help you and your guardian communicate. Making you uncomfortable isn’t going to help with that.”
I considered for a minute demanding we leave, but then Isla grabbed the string of my hoodie, sticking it in her mouth. Zero mentioned that the therapist might be able to help her. It was messed up that her doctor said she was grieving. I wasn’t here for me. I was here for her.
“No. You’re gonna help Isla.”
The doctor nodded. “Absolutely. Come this way. I’ve got a nice room with lots of toys for her to play with, and we can talk about what’s going on.”
I hesitated for a second, and Zero didn’t move until I did, following behind us with the diaper bag slung over his shoulder. He was probably getting sick of me and my shit. It was only a matter of time before he dumped us. He wasn’t parent material. He wouldn’t stick around, just like the rest of mom’s family hadn’t. He’d send us back eventually.
ZERO
Jasper went quiet when we stepped into the therapist’s office. That honestly wasn’t surprising since he’d already told me he wasn’t going to talk, but it felt like more than his usual pissed off silence. Something about being called by my last name freaked him out, and I doubted he would tell me about it. How the hell was I supposed to help him if he wouldn’t give me the time of day?
The room we were brought to was bright and colorful, with toys for all ages on shelves or on the floor. Isla squirmed out of Jasper’s lap when he sat on one of the chairs available, so he slid to the floor so he could watch over her while she played with whatever she could get her hands on. At least one of us was happy to be here.
“Alright, everyone. I’m Addison Torres. I’m a licensed child and family therapist, with a specialization in childhood trauma. So, Mr. Fletcher. Can you tell me why we’re here?”
I felt awkward as shit sitting across from her. Therapy was so far off my radar before the kids showed up that I wasn’t sure what the hell to say to her. I didn’t want to make it all about me. I was here to help the kids.
