Page 19 of Only Temporary

He doesn’t look bothered either way and climbs onto the bottom bunk of the bunkbed in the room. It looks good in here. I see Kieran on the top bunk, and the oldest, Cason, is camped out on the twin bed across from it. He has earbuds in and is glaring at us, but doesn’t seem to be willing to talk today, not even to give his brother shit.

“This looks good,” I say to Kellan.

“We found some really good deals on the furniture.”

“It’s perfect,” I tell him honestly and then address the room. “Everyone settling in okay?”

They all grumble a yes, then go back to what they were doing, not giving me the time of day. Soon, I’ll need to talk to all of them individually, but for now, I can give them their space because it’s clear their basic needs are being met.

Kellan escorts me from the bedrooms to the living room again. “Anything else?”

I can tell he wants me to leave, but I can’t yet. “Can we sit somewhere and discuss some things?”

He looks around the living room and huffs, directing me to the kitchen, where I see a small kitchen table that wasn’t there before. “This work?”

I nod, taking a seat, and he takes one across from me. “Where did you get the table? It’s nice.”

“Marketplace. Found a lot of cheap stuff there. Thanks for suggesting it.”

I can see the dark circles under his puffy eyes, and it’s clear he hasn’t had much sleep in the three days since I saw him last. “Going to meetings?”

He winces, but then answers, “Yes. Every night since I got the kids. I’m not relapsing.” He says it firmly, his dark-blue eyes boring into mine.

“I believe you,” I say honestly. “Are you sleeping?”

He glares at me, his blue orbs angry and annoyed and his jaw ticking. “Is that a requirement?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately. “You have to take care of yourself in order to take care of them.”

“Gee, thanks for the reminder,” he quips, but then seems to gain some composure. “I sleep, but I’ve been planning a funeral for the mother I hated. I’ve been taking care of four angry kids and trying to keep all my shifts at work so I can support them. I want to drink. I want to use. But I know I can’t, so instead of sleeping after work, I go straight to a meeting to talk about my feelings, which I despise doing. But I do it.”

His teeth are gritted, and his hand resting on the top of the table is flexing over and over. “It’ll slow down,” I say softly.

He looks surprised by that momentarily but then drops his hand off the table and into his lap. “I’ll work on getting more sleep.”

“Well, being tired seems to be kind of a requirement of being a parent or guardian, so don’t worry too much. But you do need to take care of yourself.”

“Okay,” he says simply, and I can feel the need he has for me to leave. I’m still drawn to him though. There’s this magnetic pull that says I shouldn’t leave just yet.

“Do you have everything planned for the funeral? I know that can be difficult.”

“Yup,” he says, pushing a hand through his thick black hair. “It’s all taken care of.”

“All right.” He’s not going to talk to me more than he has to, but I know I’m going to have to find a way to get him to let me in. I stand up, and he follows. “Let me know if you need anything at all. I’ll be here in two days.” We walk to the door, and he opens it, waiting for me to leave. I look at him, seeing the pain in his eyes that pulls me like nothing else, but I refuse to let it happen this time. “You don’t have to trust me yet, but I’m going to show you that you can.”

His jaw clinches tight, and he looks away from me. “I don’t trust anyone.”

Determination surges through me. “You’ll trust me.”

His eyes lock on mine, confusion swimming in them, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps his expression blank.

Still, I see it before I walk away and out to my car. That brief little glimpse.

He may not trust me or believe he ever can, but he wants to.

NINE

I don’t want to do this. No part of me wants to go and celebrate the life of the woman who let me—and all her kids—down so profoundly at every single turn. She never even tried. She just—fuck!

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