Page 33 of Only Temporary

I hear a car pull up, and like a total idiot, I jump up off the couch and head for the door. I peek out the window, and my heart actually stutters in my chest when I see Phillip’s car.

Yeah, I’m not sure what the hell is happening to me here. But like the creeper I am, I open the door and watch as Raegan and Phillip both approach. A bag of something is in Phillip’s hand from the local ice-cream shop down the block.

“Kellan, you’re home early,” he says with a bright cheery smile.

“Uh, yeah. Light day.”

Raegan is looking at me weird as she brushes past me inside, and I’m happy to see a small ice-cream cone in her hand. Though I haven’t brought up the subject of her eating more, I do get a little thrill every time I see her actually consuming calories. I really don’t want to have to have that talk with her. “Sorry about this.” Phillip holds up the bag in his hand as he walks inside. “Thought we would stop for a little treat. I know it might spoil dinner, but...”

“It’s fine,” I say with a smile because I really like when he gets all nervous and rambley like that.

“You’re here!” Braylen says as he runs into the room to greet Phillip. My youngest brother has definitely fallen for our social worker.

“I am!” Phillip kneels down, pulling an ice-cream bar from the bag and holding it out for Braylen. “I brought you a treat.” Braylen starts to grab for it, but Phillip pulls it back, a knowing smile on his lips. “Did you do your homework?”

“Phillip, I don’t have homework,” he whines, and Phillip hands over the sweet treat to a delighted Braylen.

“Where’s Kieran?”

“Reading, of course,” Braylen says, unwrapping the bar and rolling his eyes.

“Will you take this to him? Quietly?” Phillip asks as he hands another one over to Braylen. Braylen nods and heads down the hallway on a mission.

I look over at Rae, who’s placing her backpack on the hook by the door. Things are still so awkward around here, but I really want to try. I’ve seen how fast Phillip has connected with all the kids—and I want that. “Uh, how was art club?” I ask.

She looks over at me, wearing the same annoyed face I usually get from her. “Fine.”

“Come on, Raegan,” Phillip says with an easy smile, handing a bar to Cason without speaking to him—he seems to understand that’s the best approach with him. “Tell him what you were telling me.”

Rae huffs but grabs a sketch book out of her bag and opens it up. “I know you don’t care about art,” she says to me, and I guess that’s true, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to seeherart.

I don’t really know what to say to that though, but of course Phillip does. “He cares about you, kid. So of course he cares about art.”

I nod my head in dumb agreement, but he’s not wrong. She rolls her eyes, but she does flip through some pages, explaining a couple of things along the way, and I can’t help looking at her in awe. I don’t know much about art at all, but my sister is definitely talented. There’s no denying that.

I want to say that. Tell her how amazing I think she is, but the words won’t come out. And I’m sure if they did, it would be met with an eye roll. “I’m going to my room to practice more.” She folds the book closed and looks at Phillip. “Please tell me you’re cooking?”

I try not to take offense, but Phillip just smiles slightly and then nods. She’s happy with that and heads down the hall to her room. I move into the kitchen, hating that I froze up. That I don’t know what the hell to say to any of them.

“What’s wrong?” Of course, Phillip has picked up on my mood. He’s really good at that. He’s good at everything.

“I don’t know how to talk to them.” I feel like such a loser right now, admitting this, but I see no judgment.

He gets to work on dinner, but I can tell he’s thinking it over. “What do you mean? You talk to them.”

I scoff and start making the salad—he likes to add a salad to every meal, and I’ve found that all four kids eat at least a bite. “Kieran has said all of five words to me since he moved in. Braylen is starting to open up a little. And the other two? Constant sneering and hatred. And I don’t blame them.”

He slides the pan of chicken into the oven and closes it before coming closer to me. I fight breathing him in—I know that’s creepy—but it’s hard not to, and it takes everything in me not to just fall into him.

“You just have to find something they’re passionate about. Like Rae with art. She was really getting in to showing you her work. That’s good. It’s a great start.”

“So far, they seem to be passionate about giving me shit. And again, I don’t blame them.”

His hand covers mine, where it rests on the counter, and I feel a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm, making my heartbeat quicken. I nearly lose my breath but recover fast. When I look into his eyes, I know he felt it too, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His voice is strained when he speaks though. “You need to forgive yourself someday, you know?”

I shake my head, and I’m the one to pull away, turning to work on the salad. “That’s not happening.”

I hear a soft sigh, but thankfully, he doesn’t seem to fight the matter. Instead, he goes to the entry way between the kitchen and the living room. “Cason, can you come here for a second?”

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