Page 1 of Only You
ONE
“So, now that the kids are mine and Phillip’s?—”
“You mean social worker.” I have to interject just to mess with Kellan, my best friend. My fucking rock, if I’m being honest. I know he thinks I’ve been there for him, but he’s been there for me just as much. I was lost and so done with rehab and staying sober. I wanted to leave.
And then, in walked Kellan, looking skinny and rundown—terrified. And for some reason, I just couldn’t leave. I was drawn to him—and no, not in any sort of romantic way—but in a way I hadn’t felt for a long time. But I made damn sure that particular time, I didn’t mess it up. I didn’t fail him.
Not like . . .
I try to shake the thought of Remy away. Remy Valentine. My mind tries to drift to him often—and has since we met. I’d gotten pretty good at pushing it away quickly though, knowing I can’t really function when I think about Remy. But now that I’ve seen him again, now that I know he’s alive, and that he’s not justokaybut seems to be doing really well? I can’t seem to push away thoughts of him.
The obsession is almost unhealthy these days. I can’t help but think about if he’sreallyokay. His smile seemed like it was forced—but he was at work when I saw him. He’s a principal at Cason and Raegan’s school.Remy Valentine—school principal. That, I never saw coming, but I’m not sure I could ever get past the dark fear I had for him when we lost touch...
Does he hate me?He was polite, but the greeting when we were unexpectedly reunited—when Cason got into a fight and the school couldn’t reach Kellan, so they called me—was lackluster at best. He was all business. Seemingly unaffected by seeing me again. Maybe I didn’t have as great of an impact on his life as he did on mine. Maybe he really does hate me. Or maybe I’m just nothing to him.
Kellan doesn’t seem to have picked up on my internal struggle at all, just going on with his original conversation, and I try like hell to stop thinking about Remy and focus on what Kellan’s saying to me. “Now thatPhillipand I are together, and things are settled, you know we have to talk about it.”
“Please tell me you don’t need the sex talk,” I try to joke but also not really liking how serious he’s being right now. I don’t know what he wants to talk about, but I do know I hate feelings. I hate talking and thinking about the past. And Kellan used to also, but now he’s dating Phillip—the social worker. Who, for the record, is really growing on me. I think he was exactly what Kellan needed, and Kellan was exactly what Phillip needed too. They’re a perfect match, but that doesn’t mean I want to be dragged into theirfeelingsbullshit, so I go on. “Because I can Googlesex with a dude,I guess, if you really need me to...” He punches me in the arm, and I only cackle, goading him further.
“No. I don’t. I’m all good on that part.” I grin, but I remain on edge, guarding myself because I don’t want to talk about anything. Why can’t we just hang out without talking about serious shit? I’d like that. My whole life has been chaos andturmoil. I was happy to help Kellan with getting guardianship of his siblings. I only wanted to see him happy. I’m thrilled. But then he continues, and my blood runs cold. “You aren’t getting away with not telling me about the principal.”
“What principal?” I try, my throat going dry at the mention of Remy. I thought it was a miracle he didn’t grill me about it that day at the high school, but turns out, he was just saving it for when things settled down.Fuck. Me.
“Tatum,” he scolds, his tone holding no nonsense, and I know he’s not going to let me get away with putting it off any longer. I’m not sure I want to tell Kellan about Remy. I don’t really talk about that time in my life. But he’s the one person on this earth who knows the most about it. Besides Remy... “Remy Valentine. The principal.”
He’s watching me carefully, and I know he knows how uncomfortable I am as my hand scrubs over my face, gripping my hair before falling to my side. “What about him?”
“How do you know him?”
“We were in foster care together.” I let out a shaky breath and close my eyes, thinking about the day I met Remy. “He was younger than me. Around your age.”
“So, three years?”
I nod, and my voice shakes. “He was so little. Almost frail but so fucking strong at the same time.” He was dirty and terrified—I could see it in his eyes, but he had his head lifted up high. Refusing to look away from any of the other boys in the group home the social worker was dropping him off at.
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen, the first time I saw him. He was nine, almost ten, and so small. So different from me in every single way. We were at the group home, so it wasn’t for long. But he was one of the good kids. Quiet and polite.” So polite. And always offering a bright smile up to everyone. No matter how badly he washurting. No matter how scared he was. No matter how much the other kids picked on him. He just kept smiling.
“His arm was in a cast. He had a broken arm, but he was still smiling. He had this bright light that was impossible to break.” It makes me smile, just thinking about it. I remember thinking he was so odd—so different from everyone I’d ever met. He should have been angry. Angry at whoever broke his arm because I knew, even before he confirmed it, that it wasn’t an accident. Someone hurt him.
My vision starts to go red, my temples throbbing with rage like it always does when I think about all the atrocities Remy went through. Kellan’s voice only partially pulls me from the haze. “That’s not always good in our world.”
I shake my head grimly. “No. It’s really not. I didn’t see him again for almost a year. I was fourteen, and he didn’t have a broken arm that time, but there were bruises.” He smiles sadly. “But he still had that bright smile.”
I can see the wheels in his head spinning. I know he’s comparing the boy I’m telling him about with the man he met at Cason’s school. It seems like it was two different people. I only saw him for a couple of minutes—barely spoke to him—but I know enough to know. He’s not the same. And it’s my fault.
“I liked being around him. He wasn’t my usual type of friend. I loved to cause mischief and chaos, but Remy was calm. He was never boring though.”
“What happened to him?” he asks, knowing already that it can’t be good. Because Kellan spent enough time in the system to know what happens to a lot of kids. What happens to the small kids who are perceived as weak.
“I didn’t see him again until I was sixteen. This time it was in a house, not a group home. We were even going to the same school. We were there for almost three months together before they kicked me back to the group home to make room foranother kid. But we were still in the same school. I hoped Remy got to stay in that house for a while after me because the couple was indifferent to us being there but not too bad.”
He just nods, listening and understanding what that means. Indifferent was actually like hitting the jackpot in foster care for a lot of us. It was actually good to just slide under the radar.
“But then they must have moved him again because he stopped coming to school. When I saw him again, I was so relieved he was alive. He wound up in the same group home as me for a brief time. It was good to see him—he didn’t have any broken bones or bruises—but something was wrong. He wouldn’t talk about it, but his smile...” I look out into the distance as we sit on the front porch. “It was different. He was different. It had faded, and everything was forced. The darkness had finally taken over him, and I hated it. I wanted so badly for him to find the light again.”
Kellan is silent, and my stomach clenches, thinking about it.
