Page 5 of A New Chapter
“Yeah, Rom’s a good cook.” He reached out and stroked the boy’s hair, amazed how much like him he looked, almost to a spooky amount. “I need to teach you Grammy’s recipes.” He choked up. “I wish she was still here. She never knew about you, either.”
Clayton looked at him. “Grammy?”
“Mom’s mother. She died four years ago.”
His eyes widened, tears once again filling them. “They told me she died in the same accident you did.”
Holy shitballs.
“What?” Ina gasped. “They told you she died, too?”
Colton wasn’t sure if he should laugh, cry, or rage. He slowly shook his head. “I guess that explains why they didn’t come to her funeral when Aunt Roberta reached out to them.”
Ina handed the boy more tissues as he cried again. Colton took the plate of unfinished food from him and set it on the coffee table so he could once again fold Clayton into his arms and hold him.
“She would have taken you in, just like she took me in. She would’ve loved you and supported you.”
“Mom always said she hated her. She would never tell me why. Neither would Dad. I wasn’t allowed to ask about her.”
“I’m sorry you never got to meet her.” He gently rocked Clayton. “Why’d they move? Did they move a lot?”
“Dad’s job. And Mom had to go to work.”
“I thought she was homeschooling you?” Ina asked.
He snorted. “Usually, she left me with a woman from her church who made me sit and read the Bible all day,” he grumbled. “Until a couple of months ago. Then they had me go work for the pastor on his dairy farm not far from where we lived. He’d pay them cash for the work I did, and they usually gave most of it right back to the church.”
Fuck.
Rage was setting in again. Every time Colton thought he was getting a handle on it, he realized, nope, he wasn’t.
“Maybe we should call the police,” Ina suggested.
Colton shook his head. “No. Not until we talk to Ed. I don’t want them putting him in foster care. He belongshere, with me and Rom. Once I have signed papers giving me custody, then yeah, if Ed says we have a case, absolutely.”
Rom and Chad returned from downstairs. Rom carried a duffle bag and a backpack, and Chad carried a small, battered rolling bag, a carryon size.
Clayton had calmed down a little, and Ina coaxed him into starting to eat again.
“While I’m here,” Chad said, “I’ll help you move what you need to.”
“If you can help me carry the mattress upstairs,” Rom said, “that’d be helpful. At least then we can put that in the room for him tonight. Colton and I can move the bed frame up there tomorrow once we shuffle stuff around.”
“Sure.”
The brothers headed downstairs again. Once Clayton finally finished the food on his plate, Colton took the plate from him. “Did you want more?”
The boy seemed reluctant to admit it, but Colton reached out and touched his shoulder. “If you’re hungry, please say so. I want you to eat.”
Eventually, he nodded. “I’m still a little hungry.”
“Don’t be bashful around here,” Ina said with a smile. “We like to feed people. You’refamily.”
The boy froze, as if that thought finally made it through to his brain. Before Colton could rise to take the plate to the kitchen to get Clayton a refill, Ina stood. “I’ll get it for him. You stay here with him.”
Clayton looked into Colton’s eyes, and Colton saw the same hazel and green flecks in his brown gaze that he saw every day when he looked in the mirror. As his emotions vacillated between anguish that he was denied being a part of his brother’s life—and that they’d discarded Clayton, too—and rage over those same thoughts, Colton remembered Grammy’s words to him so long ago.
Being angry is okay as long as you let it pass. Holding on to it only hurts you, not them. It also lets them win.
