Page 30 of Until Nalia
As she clutches the back of her head and the other girls around her move in to check that she’s okay, I see the boy who kicked the ball run off laughing with Cooper and another kid chasing him.
“What the fuck?” Logan bites out beside me.
Unhooking my seatbelt, I lean over the side of the Jeep and shout.
“Is she okay?”
All the girls who were in the circle look my way, and I see that the girl who got hit is crying. I’m not even a little happy that someone got hurt, but all I can think is that I’m glad the ball didn’t hit Zuri in the face because the obvious force of the impact could have easily opened up her stitches.
“She’s okay,” Zuri and Heather both say at the same time.
“You need to go tell the teacher.” I scan the field for an adult, and there are two that I see, and one of them is talking to Cooper and the boy he had been playing soccer with. Hopefully, they are telling her what happened. It looks like they are when I see the woman start walking to where the girls are sitting.
“Sit down, baby, I gotta roll forward,” Logan says, putting his finger in the loop in the back of my shorts and tugging down so that I have no choice but to fall to my bottom.
“I wonder if that’s the kid that Zuri said is a jerk,” I tell him, wiping my hand down my thighs.
“Matthew.”
“What?” I ask, distracted by the teacher who is now talking to the girls. We’re getting so far away that I can just barely see them around the edge of the building.
“Coop said the kid who is a jerk in their class is Matthew.”
“Zuri has never told me his name.” I fidget, wondering why she hasn’t. I’ve asked her who he is, and all she ever says is it doesn’t matter. The same way she seemed to freeze up, then brush off the question when I spoke to her about the boy who shoved her at the baseball game. I’m worried about her keeping information from me. I don’t understand why she would or why she is.
“You okay?” Logan asks, and I look over and find him studying me intently.
“Just...” I rub my lips together, then ask. “What do you do when your kids keep things from you?”
“There’s not much to do except be patient.” He reaches his hand between us like he’s going to touch me, but stops himself. I’m more disappointed than I should be. “I’ve found out the hard way that getting pissed doesn’t work, nor does pushing for information. But if I wait them out, they’ll usually tell me what’s bothering them.”
“I’m terrified of pushing too much and pushing her away in the process, and I never want to do that.”
“How long has she been in your care?” he asks after passing our cards over to the girl who stops at the door.
“A few months. Before that, she would just spend weekends with me or school holidays.” In truth, she spent more time at my apartment than she did at home, but I have always felt strange admitting that out loud, even though it’s not a reflection on me but on her mom.
“Can I ask where her mom is?”
My throat gets tight, and I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or anger. “Prison. She was selling drugs and got caught with enough narcotics that she couldn’t claim that she was doing anything else with them. And since it wasn’t her first offense, the judge didn’t mess around with putting her away.” I let out a long breath. “She’s supposed to get out in ten years, maybe sooner if she gets paroled for good behavior. I hope she doesn’t.” I admit the last part on a whisper, then continue just as softly. “She’s not a good mom. She might try, but she’s not, and I want Zuri to have a different life.”
“Like you had a different life?” he asks just as softly, and stupid tears cause my nose to sting. I never told him what happened to me or my brother, but I guess it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that something did. Kids are not normally adopted when they are two unless there is some kind of tragic backstory attached to them.
“She left me and my twin brother alone when we were two so she could go out and party, and by the time the police were called, we were in need of medical attention. When she found out what was going to happen to her for what she did to us, she signed over her parental rights without even attempting to fight to get better or change her life.” I drag in a shaky breath. “She could have kept us, the system is set up like that, it wants families to stay together despite how fucked up those families might be or how much trauma kids might experience in the process. I…” I shake my head. “As messed up as it is, I think her signing over her rights for Sage and me proved in some way how much she actually loved us.” Or at least that is what I’ve told myself over the years, because the other option is she was just being selfish. That she knew, without two small kids who needed things like love, attention, and basic necessities, she could live her life with zero responsibilities. Which is exactly what she did when she was free of us.
“Jesus, baby, I’m so fucking sorry.” He starts to reach for me, but I know if he touches me, I’ll crack wide open.
“Don’t be. I got lucky.” I turn away from him and push open the door. Once my feet are on the ground, I force myself to look in his direction but don’t make eye contact. “I’m going to go wait by the doors for the kids.” I don’t wait for him to respond; I slam the door and head across the double lane of parked cars towards the school. I need some space from him and my own thoughts. I’m not sure why I opened up to him, but it was either my past or the situation with my birth mom. It’s not something I talk about with anyone, not even my family. Then again, I’m starting to see that he has the ability to make me act out of character.
Nine
LOGAN
I watch Nalia walk away from my Jeep with a pit in my stomach and my hands clenched into fists, like I’m trying to hold onto the little bit of her that I had in my grasp before she caught herself being vulnerable and cut me out.
Despite how good she had it after she was removed from her birth mother and went to live with the Maysons, I have no doubt that the trauma she experienced has had a lasting impact on her. It might be why she’s so guarded, why she was okay with staying with a man for over a year and not being in love with him. And why she accepted his suggestion of keeping things fluid, which I’m guessing was a way of him keeping his options open when she moved here and left him behind.
Dragging in a breath, I scrub my hands down my face, then shut off the engine of my Jeep and push open the door. I find her standing apart from the other parents, a few feet from the doors, and walk up to stand next to her, letting my fingers graze hers. I can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses when she tips her head back to look at me. It's difficult to read what she’s thinking, but it’s hard to miss the way her chin trembles then tightens, like she’s holding back tears. If we were anywhere else, I would pull her into my arms and deal with the chance that she might push me away.
