Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,30
I’m hoping he’ll play along.
“Three years,” I say with a purr, looking up at him. Rhys looks pale, and his body is so fucking tense as I lean against him.
She studies us intently, her gaze falling where I touch him, and I can hear him breathing deep to keep from freaking out. My heart aches for him.
“You applied for long term foster care. Do you have any plans to marry?”
Now my body feels just as tense as Rhys’s, but I recover even when he doesn’t. “I mean, who needs that? The whole thing seems pretty outdated to me.” I drag my free hand over Rhys’s arms, and I'm hoping she doesn’t hear the sharp intake of his breath from the contact. “We’re committed, that's all that matters.”
Her lips purse as she types something on her tablet. “I see.”
Shit. Did I say something wrong? They can’t deny him because of that, can they?
“I’ll be back soon.”
“You said that already,” Rhys spits, and I tighten my hold to rein him in.
She leaves, and I quickly release him to close the door before turning back to him. “You have to be nice, Rhys. Kiss some ass.”
“I don’t do that,” he says through clenched teeth, and I wonder if he’s still wound tight from my touch.
“You think I like that? Newsflash, I hate being nice.”
“Yeah. No shit. So why were you?”
“It’s part of the game.” I walk toward him, and he steps back quickly, his hands in front of him like he’s afraid I’m going to touch him again. I try not to let that sting.
“Relax. I only did that for show. She doesn’t think we’re a real couple.”
“We aren’t.”
I glare at him, annoyed that he can’t just try to be fucking human for a moment. “I know that, but she’s supposed to think we are. Get it together.”
He takes a seat on the bottom of the stairs, and again, I feel that stabbing feeling in my heart as he fists his hair, leaving his elbows propped up on his knees.
I take a seat on the step below him so I don’t touch him. “Rhys, do I get another question?”
He looks down at me where I sit, his gaze looking like he thinks I'm crazy. “After all that?”
“I mean, I did well. I think I should get a reward.”
He groans and lets go of his hair. “What?”
“You said the last foster home was the worst one.” He looks pale again, maybe even green, so I quickly ask my question. “What was the best one?”
“That’s like asking about my favorite trip to the hospital.”
This time I'm the one to wince, and I hate it. I don’t like that he’s had more than one trip to the hospital or that he had such a horrible childhood, but still there had to be something good. “So, what’s the answer?”
He takes in a big breath, his massive chest filling out even more before he lets it go. “I don’t know. There was one I was in when I was eight. I was there with Sean at the same time. The foster dad was a trucker, so he wasn’t home a lot, and the mom was batty as all fuck. But Sean was there, so it wasn’t so bad.”
I smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
His eyes roll as he stands. “Thanks for taking it easy on me.”
I want to know so much. I need to know why I can’t touch him, but I don’t push it. Not tonight.
But I will find out.
“I have good news for you.” I’m waiting for Bree to get out of school as I hold the phone to my ear.
“Okay.”
Gillian goes on. “So you’re approved for long-term care and can keep Bree for now.”
I don’t like the for now part. “But?”
“We don’t need to get ahead of ourselves, Rhys. This is a win. You and Bree did well with the first two inspections.”
The social worker bitch showed up again three days after the first visit to talk to Bree and I guess to try to catch us in some drug-infused orgy party. When really, we were all just sitting in the living room quietly watching some annoying show on MTV Blair and Bree like. “Just tell me, Gillian.”
She sighs into the phone. “Mr. Herrington could fight it. He was starting the adoption process the day Bree showed up at your shop. He could still try.”
“So, what now?” My entire body tenses up, and I see Bree walking with the two guys she’s usually with.
“Social services