“Then he’s used to women creeping on his fine ass.”
I grinned and sipped my wine before signing, “I thought you don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“I don’t.” She paused. “Usually, but he might be with it.”
“Oh friend, you have it bad.”
“Very bad. I want that man something terrible.”
“Quit now before you get fired, because if you get the dick, no work will be completed, friend.”
She laughed and signed, “You know I don’t play about my coins. I’ll finish the job before I get the dick.”
“Or just put it on him so good that you get the coins even if you don’t finish the job.”
“That might work too.”
We chilled for a few more hours, then Marlee left while I got Rylee in the bath and ready for bed. It was almost eleven when I tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. Just before I left her room, she caught my arm and sat up in bed, signing, “I like being here.”
“I like having you here,”I returned.
She hesitated, then signed, “I don’t want her to come back.”
My heart clenched.
I don’t either, kid.
I didn’t say that to her and instead signed, “It’s okay to be angry she left you.”
I’m sure there’s a good reason. She loves you.
Rylee shook her head and signed, “If she comes back, I can’t stay with you and I want to stay with you.”
She pouted and I walked over and kissed her forehead before I signed, “Get some sleep.”
She nodded, lay under the cover, and snuggled up. I left her room, my spare room transformed into a sea of purple because I wanted her to feel at home. It was the least I could do considering the circumstances. She was a kid dealing with some pretty heavy things like abandonment and finding a place where she fit in and felt loved.
Before I left the room, I turned off the lights but left the door open. After her first night here, she told me she didn’t want to be alone. Her mother left her at their apartment and she had to sit by herself for three days. That fear of being left alone still lingered. Leaving the door cracked so she had access to me was our compromise instead of allowing Rylee to sleep in my bed.
I grabbed the bottle of wine Marlee and I didn’t finish, poured the rest into my glass, and curled up on the sofa with my laptop, navigating to the site for fostering children. If this was what needed to be done, I’d do it. I refused to be another adult in Rylee’s life who let her down.
Chapter 3
Ryland
The past couple hours had moved slow as hell, mostly because my mind was on a loop with the possibilities of every terrible thing that could be happening on repeat. I loved my parents. Even if I didn’t speak to them daily and only saw them a couple times a year because my schedule was so insane, I could always count on them being there.
Always. Fucking. There. So if they needed me, I’d be there. Maybe they had a daughter I wasn’t aware of. One who, for whatever reason, they’d kept secret from me but it wouldn’t matter. If they said this woman was my sister, that’s exactly what she would be. I owed them a debt that could never be repaid, even if they assured me no debt existed. In my heart and mind I believed otherwise and my life was indebted to them. They raised, loved, and supported me simply because they wanted.
Their presence in my life said a lot considering the woman who should have been there chose not to be. My life changed when I was fourteen years old. Miranda and Orlando Tyler made the decision to adopt an unruly kid who needed stability, structure, and to be seen. I lived with them for two years when the asked how I felt about making our situation permanent. On my fourteenth birthday, they filed the paperwork requesting tobecome my legal guardians. They became the most consistent and stable forces in my life. Children were born into families without the understanding of how those families could help or hinder them.
I didn’t learn the difference until I earned a spot on my middle school football team and Orlando became my coach. He saw something in me that I felt but never shared because no one ever cared. Football was my thing. I was damn good at it and destined to be something great with the right support system. Felicia Parks, the woman who’d brought me into this world, was not that. She cared for me in a general sense and I appreciated the bare minimum she gave, but she wasn’t a parent. At least not the type suited for the job.
Felicia kept a roof over our heads, made sure I had food in my stomach and clothes on my back, but that was the extent of what she was capable of. She never nurtured or showed interest in me. Felicia damn sure never encouraged my dreams of being anything other than a responsibility she didn’t want.
She wasn’t cruel, abusive, or harsh. She would have had to pay enough attention to acknowledge me to be those things. Felicia didn’t. There were no fun memories of laughing and smiling with my mother. No weekend fun, no birthdays or holidays.
We lived in the same house for years and I barely remembered her ever talking to me. From as young as a toddler, what I remembered was her caring for me in a way that made sure I had what I needed but never made me feel loved.
