Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,22
I can do this, but I guess I'm going to. Rhys sent a text that they’re on their way about an hour ago, and I left work early so I’d be here.
It’s all happening fast.
The doorbell rings, and when I open the door, there’s Rhys in all his broody, silent fucking hot glory. He didn’t dress up for social services. He’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that would make any straight woman fucking drool.
I look down at the girl at his side. She’s a skinny, bony little thing. Pretty face. Almost like a doll, but her hair is unruly as all hell. The brown curls are everywhere, and I wonder if she brushed them this morning. She’s wearing a little plaid jumper with a white shirt, but it seems wrong.
I don’t think it’s her style at all.
“Blair.”
“Hey, Rhys.”
The girl looks from me to him and then back at me. Then back to him, pointing up at me. “This is your girlfriend?”
Rhys looks uncomfortable, but we agreed it would be best to keep her in the dark about what we actually are in order to protect her from having to lie. “Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Blair.”
Her blue eyes flash to mine, and she seems almost annoyed. She looks back at Rhys. “Really?”
I swear, Rhys almost cracks an honest-to-God smile as if these two have some kind of inside joke. “Yes. Really.” He turns to me. “Can we come in?”
I nod and move out of the way as he walks in, carrying two bags.
I’m still trying here even though I have no idea how to be nice. She’s a kid though. How hard can it be. “So you’re Bree.”
It’s not a question, but she rolls her eyes at me. “Good job.” She looks over at Rhys again, angling her thumb in my direction. “I didn’t think you’d be with a Barbie.”
I glare at Rhys, and his eyes widen slightly, probably realizing I'm not above slapping an eleven-year-old as he steps in between us, looking at her. “She’s Badass Barbie, if it helps.”
Again, the kid rolls her eyes, and I'm about to throttle Rhys. Really? He had to choose this one?
He turns to look at me, a pleading look on his face. “Sorry.”
“Did she seriously just call me a fucking Barbie?”
“Have you looked in a mirror, lately?” The little brat has some fucking nerve.
Rhys holds up a hand in my direction. “Blair, you’re the one that called yourself a fucking Barbie when we first met.”
“I don’t like it,” I growl.
He just shrugs. “So, put on fifty pounds. Take out the tits. Let me tattoo your face.”
I place one hand on my hip and glare at him. “Are you seriously going to give me shit right now? After everythi—”
He moves to stand right in front of me, and honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever been this close, face-to-face. At least not for a long, long time. He looks desperate, and there’s something not quite right in his eyes. “No. I’m not. I swear. I’m sorry.”
I huff and drop my hand from my hip. “Fine. Whatever.” I look over at Bree. “Do you want to see your room?”
She just shrugs. “Sure.”
Oh great. There’s two of them.
I lead the way, and they both follow, not saying a word. I wonder if they talked at all in the car. Are either of them capable of it?
I lead them up the stairs, past my office and to the next bedroom on the left, pushing open the door. “Okay. This is your room. I didn’t have much time to prepare, but I figured we can go shopping to add some touches to your room. I had no idea what you would be into. Clearly not Barbies.”
She scrunches her nose at that and looks around the plain room. There’s a full bed that still has some boring adult bedding on it. Solid purple. There’s a dresser, and the bathroom is shared with the office, but it will just be hers. I bought her some shampoo and toiletries that I left on the sink.
“This is fine.” She sits on the bed. “It’s only temporary, right?”
It’s not a real question, and the kid doesn’t seem to have much hope. Maybe Rhys was right. She doesn’t seem like an eleven-year-old, not that I've been around any since I was eleven.
Still, she lacks childhood innocence.
“Well, we can still go get you some stuff, and you can take it with you if you leave.”
Again, her little brow furrows, and she looks annoyed before she shrugs. Rhys