Page 6 of Only Temporary

“This is where you stuck them?”

Phillip sighs and parks the van. “This is where Cason is. The other three aren’t old enough for this particular home.”

I shiver, thinking about this place. The memories it brings back. Fucking drill sergeant wannabes telling us to shut our mouths and behave or else. “Can we go get him now?”

Phillip turns to me, his eyes soft and kind—I don’t like it. It’s like he can see right inside me—through the anger and bitterness. I hate it. “Are you sure you can handle this? Being an addict...”

“Is part of me. I had no chance. It lives and breathes in me, but I’m sober, damn it. I’ll do anything for these kids,” I say fiercely and never look away from his gaze.

“I believe you.” I nearly jolt back into the window of the van, like he hit me or something.He believes me?He doesn’t know me. He only knows my record and my family history. No one ever believes me.

“Why?” I say stupidly and then shake my head. “No. Not why. I don’t care if you believe me or not,” I say angrily. “And if you do believe me, why the hell are you questioning me?’

“You look pale and sick. This is extremely stressful,” he starts, and I want to hit something. Not him. I don’t want to go to jail and fuck everything up, but I do have that urge and have to grab the denim covering my thighs to resist.

“My mom died and left my four siblings. Of course I’m stressed.”

“And when an addict is stressed...” he says slowly, and it clicks.

“You think this is going to make me use?” I nearly laugh at that and shake my head. “If I haven’t used in the past four years, nothing will make me go back,” I say with enough confidence I hope is convincing but trying not to overdo it.

It’s a lot, and of course, I still think about using. Of the intense high and the calm that comes after it. The silence. But I won’t do it. I refuse because I also remember all the other shit. Waking up and not knowing where I am. Being gone for days. Not being able to stand up. Waking up in my own vomit. Watching my close friends die.

No.

“I’m ready to go get the kids,” I say firmly, and Phillip, to his credit, doesn’t argue.

He climbs out of the van, and I follow him.

The whole time, trying like hell not to let my knees buckle, just thinking about seeing the kids again.

Facing their well-deserved wrath.

I deserve it,I remind myself.

I deserve every single thing they throw at me.

THREE

This is not going to be an easy case. I know it won’t be. I could sense it the moment Margie dropped the file on my desk this morning and told me very briefly about the case.

A mother died. Years of addiction and turmoil ended, but she left behind so much. Five kids. Four minors and one very bitter, very angry twenty-four-year-old man. A chill ran through me, going through the file today.

Life just isn’t fair.

I’ve only been officially working for Children’s Services for six months, and already, my soul weeps for these kids. The unwanted. The left behind. The neglected. It makes me hate humans, and that’s never been me. I always had this wide-eyed sort of hope for the world.

It’s why I went into social work. I knew it would be challenging and that I’d make next to no money, but I thought I could change the world. It’s not been like that though.

It’s been devastating truth after devastating truth—some kids, they’ll never have a safe place to go. Some kids are removed from god-awful homes where they’re neglected and abused and sent right to a foster home that’s the same or even worse. Of course, we try to vet the foster parents. We do our best. But there are so many kids who need a home.

And there are so many evil people creeping around under the surface.

I’m trying though. I try like hell to keep a smile on my face as I accompany Kellan Rhodes inside the group home to find the oldest of his younger brothers. Kellan—he’s not at all what I expected.

I knew he was young at twenty-four, which may be why they put me with him. At twenty-six, I’m close to his age, but while his good looks nearly made me swallow my tongue when he walked into the office today—it was his eyes that nearly stopped me in my tracks.

Dark blue. So dark and stormy, swimming in pain and disappointment. He may be twenty-four, but he’s well beyond his years in the things he’s seen and likely done. That much is apparent when you see Kellan.

---