Page 11 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

Bobby’s laugh was slightly sardonic. “You broke his jaw with a crowbar.”

“Well, you try to turn my sister into a whore, and apparently your place is on the floor in a small puddle of your own blood.” Tommy laughed, but he wasn’t joking.

“Fair enough.” Bobby nodded his head as though he secretly agreed. “Why not just report it?”

“And have CPS crawling up my ass? You seen them, the way they are, there’s no way in hell I’d keep the kids.” They both knew he couldn’t petition for custody as things were, and Bobby didn’t even ask. “Just got a few more years like this. I got it all planned, ya know? Colleen can finish school, maybe get a good job when she gets out, Mikey same thing. Then the three of us, we’ll have enough money and good-enough jobs, and maybe then we can get the kids. Three adults looking after the other five.”

“Might work.” Bobby sounded tired and frustrated. “Lot of shit to go through till then, though.”

Tommy tensed again. “Well, they’re worth it.”

“I meant for them. Colleen is, what? Sixteen?”

“Seventeen the other day.” Tommy didn’t like where the conversation was headed.

“Okay, seventeen.” Bobby nodded. “When’s the last time she had a date or went to a school dance or a party? Or Mikey? And Davey likes stealing shit, you can see it in him already, he’s an adrenaline junkie. Carrie acts like a little mother for the other three, all the time wishing she had one of her own….”

Tommy’s hackles were rising, partly because what Bobby said was true. “You ask them. Ask Colleen or Mikey if they’d rather be out partying and getting laid or going to a movie with friends. Ask them if they’d have a good time doing that shit if they knew their little sisters and brothers were in a state home or being left to Cal and Cheryl. Ask them yourself, ’cause I already know the answer.”

“I know the answer too, Tom. I’m just saying there has to be another way.”

“Well, from where I sit, it’s this or foster care. When you come up with door number three, you let me know.”

“Foster care isn’t always—”

“If you wanna be my friend, you better stop right there.” Tommy sat up taller and edged closer to the twins. “You know what happened when we went to foster care, genius?” Bobby shook his head, looking abashed as Tommy went on. “Mike and Davey were treated like fucking slaves, didn’t eat anything but grits and potatoes because the woman took the money she got from the state for them and played it at the track. Colleen ended up with some pervert that made her sit on his lap while he watched porn and felt her up—ask her why she doesn’t date—and fuck only knows what happened to Carrie and Collin, because they were so goddamn young they wouldn’t even know what to tell me if there was something to tell. So you can take your foster care and shove it up your ass, Officer.”

After a long silence, Bobby shook his head again. “I’m…. Christ, I didn’t know, Tom. I…. My parents took in foster kids when I was younger, it was… nice. We were nice. They loved it there, I….”

“Well, it’s luck of the draw, and as you can see, we’re short on luck around here.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Foster is off the table permanently, okay? I had no idea how bad it was for them, just….”

“It’s all right.” The words came out as a growl, but that was partly because Tommy’s head really did hurt and he was tired down to his bones. He got off the couch and started cleaning up after the twins. He went into the kitchen to put their antibiotics in the refrigerator so he could get them ready for their nap.

Bobby came in after him. “Anything I can do to…?”

Tommy huffed a laugh, thinking he’d actually scared Bobby out of saying the word help. “Know how to change a diaper?” he asked over his shoulder as he started loading the dishwasher. “It’s almost time for their naps, mine too for that matter, but I gotta clean up in here. Can’t leave it like this for Colleen.”

Looking shocked when Tommy allowed him to actually do something useful, like it was a privilege, Bobby asked immediately, “Where’s the stuff?”

“Oh, uh.” Tommy turned around, his hands wet, water dripping on the floor as he pointed across the kitchen to a small cabinet. “Wipes and diapers and ointment and stuff are all over there. You can just change ’em on the floor. We’re not real picky about that.”

“No problem.” Bobby beamed as he gathered the supplies.

Tommy rolled his eyes.

By the time the kitchen was done and everything back where it belonged, Tommy emerged to find the living room empty. He felt a quick bolt of panic until he saw Bobby padding down the stairs in his bare feet and the flannel shirt he’d been wearing earlier stripped off. A crisp white T-shirt covered his trim, well-defined chest. “You should have warned me that Max likes to pee after his diaper is off.”

Tommy shouldn’t have laughed, but he did. “Gotcha good, did he?”

“Oh yeah, you’ll be washing my shirt for me.”

Tommy pointed at the hamper in the hall. “Throw it on the pile.”

He started to pass Bobby to head upstairs, but Bobby stopped him. “They’re asleep. I put the rail up and left the door open so you’ll hear them.”

“Oh.” He was disappointed and didn’t have a chance to hide it. “I usually read to them in the afternoon, settles ’em down. Did they fuss?”

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