Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,29
bedrooms are up here.”
“I’ll follow you.” She hasn’t warmed up in the slightest, and I don’t like the way she’s looking at Rhys. Like a bug. One she wants to smoosh under her shoe.
I lead her up to Bree’s room and am sure to knock first, waiting for Bree’s reply before we walk in. “Bree, I think you already know Ms. Winters.” The social worker bitch that shook Rhys’s confidence.
Of course, I can’t say that last part.
Bree just nods from her place on the bed. “Good evening, Bree.” Now this woman sounds like Cinderella when she talks to Bree, leaning down and looking into her eyes. Jesus.
Bree is not having it. “Hey.”
“How was school?”
I look over at Rhys, who looks like he’s about to break his teeth if he clenches his jaw any tighter.
Bree shrugs, what she always does. “Fine.”
The social worker looks around the room. When I took her shopping, I finally talked Bree into a comforter that said more “preteen” and less “adult guest.” It’s hot pink with black squiggles. I bought the matching curtains, but we haven’t had a chance to put them up yet.
“How do you like your room?”
Again with the shoulder lift. She really could pass for Rhys’s biological daughter. “It’s fine.”
“Aubrey, you can be honest with me.”
I feel Rhys tense, and I automatically hate this bitch. “Of course, you can. We were about to finish the tour. You wanna come, Bree?”
Her eyes dart to mine, and she shakes her head, but her chin is lifted, showing her strength. “No. That sounds boring. I have homework.”
Good girl. Use words.
I laugh at that and shake my head. “Alright then.” I smile big toward the social worker, gesturing for her to follow. I show her my office, and then we go to the master bedroom.
“This is our room.” The room is pristine. The bed made, and Rhys’s stuff put away in the dresser I had ordered. I guess it was here when he got in today. The duffle bag he was living out of is out of sight.
He must have sensed the visit was coming because the blanket he uses to sleep with on the chaise lounge has been put up. Ms. Winters looks around. “Is there anything inappropriate for an eleven-year-old in here?”
“You mean like porn?” My filter failed me as she turns to look at me.
“As long as it’s safely away, that shouldn’t be a problem. Along with any other . . .” she eyes Rhys hard, “sordid items.”
She thinks Rhys is kinky. Ha. I want to laugh, considering he won’t let me touch him. “Nothing sordid in here,” I say, fingering the rose pendant around my neck.
“Guns?”
“No,” Rhys answers, his tone has a definite edge to it.
“Drugs?” Now she’s trying her best to show Rhys how much she despises him, and it makes me seethe with fury.
“No. Rhys is clean. Why would we have drugs or even alcohol in the house?”
She knows he’s an addict. I can feel it. The way she said the word “drugs” as if she’s waiting for him to mess up. She fiddles with the iPad in her hands. “Okay. I’m going to go have a conversation with Bree.” She pins Rhys with a hard look. “Alone.”
We both nod as she leaves the bedroom, and I face Rhys. “Jesus Christ, what is up her ass?”
“She thinks I took a good thing away from Bree.”
“Getting molested by a sick motherfucker isn’t robbing her of anything good, Rhys. Nothing is worth that.”
I watch his throat bob, and I want to comfort the asshole, but I know I can’t with a touch. “Fuck her. We’re going to win this.”
“It’s not a game, Blair.”
“Everything is a game, Rhys. You have to play to win, or you’ll lose every time.”
We walk down the hall after waiting a few minutes, and Ms. Winters leaves the room, waving to Bree with fake, ridiculous vigor.
“I’ll be back to check in very soon, Mr. Moore.”
“We’ll be here,” Rhys seethes, and I play my part as we walk her to the door, putting a smile on my face.
“This is a nice home you have here. How long have you two been together again?”
She looks at the gap between my body, and Rhys and I know she’s implying we aren’t a real couple, like she’s catching us in a lie. I quickly wrap my arm around Rhys, who recoils, but I hold him to me, laying my head on his shoulder.
I swear I can hear his heart beating from here, but