“Honestly? Not great,” I admitted, keeping my voice slow so Jasper wouldn’t overhear. “He’s pissed and it’s fuckin’ awkward. I’m starting to worry that I did the wrong thing taking them in.”
“You didn’t,” Prez reassured me, squeezing my shoulder. “He’s been through something awful. He’s allowed to be angry. It’s got nothing to do with you.” He glanced at the SUV, then back at me. “Have you thought about therapy?”
I nodded. “We start later this week. He isn’t happy about it, but Mel suggested it, and I trust her judgment.”
“So do I,” Prez agreed. “Try therapy. At least so you can get to the point where you don’t have to walk on eggshells in your own home. What about the baby? Everything good with her?”
I made a face. “Does frequent blowouts, screaming fits, and waking up like six times a night sound good to you?” I countered.
He snorted and shook his head. “No. Mention it to Mel. She’ll tell you if it's normal or not. And hang in there. If you need a hand, just let me know. I’ll show up, and I know any of the guys will do the same. Just take it one day at a time.”
He patted my shoulder, letting me go and heading back to the barbecue. I tried not to be jealous. I would’ve preferred to stay and be around the crew instead of heading home to the shitshow I’d volunteered to be part of.
I was a fucking idiot.
Like I thought, the late nap meant Isla was up at midnight and full of energy. Jasper got up before I could, and I heard him talking low to her as I crept out of my room. He’d grabbed her from her crib and sat with her on the floor, stacking blocks for her to knock over and watching her with a kind of warmth I’d never seen from him before. I watched from a crack in the door, feeling like an asshole for spying but staying anyway because I didn’t know what else to do.
Jasper sighed when Isla knocked down another tower, babbling happily to her brother. “You just gotta wait a few years. Once I’m old enough, I’ll get us out of here. I’ll adopt you and bring you back home and we’ll figure things out together. It’s just you and me.”
The thought was a little terrifying, honestly. He was just a kid, and yet he was already planning on leaving and taking his sister with him. No eighteen year old should be responsible for a little kid. But he didn’t trust me so why would he even consider sticking around, or at least leaving Isla somewhere she was safe?
His gaze flicked up and it was almost like he was looking directly at me when he said, “No one, not even that asshole playing pretend dad, is going to get between us. I promised Mom I’d protect you. I’m not breaking that promise.”
CHAPTER SIX
SIMONE
I figured with the way things had been going at school, it was best not to wait too long to start my assessments with Jasper. I sent an email to his guardian and confirmed a time that didn’t conflict with my normal study group and headed over after they were all picked up at the end of the session.
In a normal school system, going to a student’s home for tutoring or assessment probably wasn’t a regular occurrence. There was a reason I chose a small town middle school though. Small town students often didn’t get all the help they needed and while I wasn’t getting paid to help, as most small town families couldn’t afford to pay for tutoring, I felt it was worth my time because I wanted to give my students the best hand they could get. This wasn’t my first tutoring at a student’s home, and it wouldn’t be my last.
I arrived at the address Mr. Fletcher sent to me and checked my bag to ensure I had all the materials I’d need for the assessment. Satisfied that I hadn’t forgotten anything, I slid outof my car and headed for the front door, my footsteps slowing as I took in the chaos inside.
Even from the walkway, I could hear the fire alarm blaring and the baby screaming. Alarmed, I hurried forward, finding the door already open and the room hazy as I stepped inside. Mr. Fletcher was in the kitchen, uselessly waving a towel at the fire alarm in an attempt to disperse the smoke. Meanwhile, the stove was partly open with smoke still billowing out of it, still on from what I could tell, the whole room was filled with smoke, and while the baby was safely away in a playpen, it was obvious she didn’t appreciate the noise as she screamed at the top of her lungs. Mr. Fletcher kept trying to reassure her while jumping around, but it did no good when he was too busy trying to deal with the smoke to comfort her. There was also music booming from somewhere else in the house, almost loud enough to block out the rest of it, it was so loud.
Mr. Fletcher saw me standing by the door and visibly winced. “It’s alright! I’ve got it under control! Just gimme a second!”
I was going to step in because he obviously needed assistance when the booming music from upstairs suddenly cut out. A door slammed open and a familiar face came stomping down the stairs, barely acknowledging my presence before he marched over to the playpen and plucked his little sister up, popping a pacifier into her mouth like he’d done it a million times before. She settled immediately, laying her head on his shoulder, while Mr. Fletcher finally managed to turn off the fire alarm by poking it with the handle of a broom stick. It wouldn’t stay off if he didn’t turn off the oven, but at least I could hear myself think.
“Seriously? This is the third time this week,” Jasper snapped. “Stop with the nugget thing. You’re going to light the house on fire.”
Mr. Fletcher grimaced. “I thought–”
The look Jasper gave him was full of teenage vitriol, and I could see how sharply it cut through the poor man who looked like he was trying his best. He’d need to develop armor against that look. Teenagers could smell weakness like blood in the water.
“The box has instructions on it. It’s not that hard. If you can’t handle it, then just stop trying. I don’t want Isla getting smoke inhalation because you can’t handle following instructions on a box.”
He didn’t wait around for his guardian to reply, spinning on his heel and marching back upstairs with his sister in tow. He gave me a side eyed look as he passed, but didn’t stop to greet me or give me any indication that he was going to be more easy going while working with me. That was fine, though. I could handle teenagers. His reaction was nothing new to me.
Once the door upstairs clicked closed a lot softer than when it was open, I turned to see Mr. Fletcher standing there with a helpless expression. He was in over his head and if someone didn’t help him, he’d be no good to those kids who obviously needed him if they were put in his care.
“I suggest–” I began, only to be cut off with the fire alarm going off again. I figured that would happen since the smoke hadn’t dissipated and only got thicker because of his inaction. Before he could grab the broom to shut it off again, I called out directions. “Turn off the stove and remove the burnt food. The smoke won’t stop if you don’t. I’ll open the windows.”
He seemed relieved to have directions and hurried to do as I asked as I set down my things by the door and started opening the windows one by one. I’d just finished with the front windows when he yelped and I swung around in time to see him douse the burnt food with water and a cloud of smoke and steam filled the room.
I sighed. If he was this clueless, why did he think it was a good idea to take in two children?
It took opening all the windows and doors, turning on all the ceiling fans, and removing the burnt food and putting it outside before the smoke dissipated and we could finally speak without shouting over a screeching fire alarm. Mr. Fletcher looked exhausted, leaning against the kitchen counter with a defeated look on his face, and I felt bad for him, but I also wanted to ensure the kids were somewhere safe.
