Page 60 of Resisting Temptation (Men of Honor 3)
Except none of that happened. Instead we ran into the kid on the side of the road. Rage still pumps through my blood, furious with what his father did to him, and I’m glad I got a few shots on the prick for it.
I think back to the way Faith was with the kid. She never let him push her away, no matter how much he tried. She was calm and patient, never giving up. And when the kid finally broke—the way she locked her arms around him in the pouring rain and held him… It’s not like I’m surprised by it. I know what kind of person she is, what kind of person she always has been, but it still did weird shit to my chest. I grew up with a mother who acted like her kids were nothing but a fucking nuisance, always choosing her next fix or next guy over us.
Faith barely knows these kids, and what does she do? She offers to take them in. Which I’m still not sure is such a good idea. I have no doubt she is strong enough to help these kids, but she’s young and has a life of her own she needs to live too. She’s still dealing with her own shit and shouldn’t be adding to it by taking on someone else’s. And, if I’m being completely honest, I also don’t like it for selfish reasons. Because now that she made this choice, we won’t be able to have anything more than friendship. There is no way I will situate myself with these kids. I’m only staying tonight to watch over Faith and to be here for Cooper in the morning, but that’s it.
I am not someone who should be around children. Not with what I have constantly lurking inside of me. Yet the thought of never touching her or kissing her again, it has my chest constricting with panic and no matter how hard I try I’m not so sure I’ll be strong enough to resist her…
The soft pitter-patter of little feet pulls me from my thoughts and draws my attention to the left. I rise up quickly on one arm when I see the young girl standing just inside the living room, watching me while hugging a stuffed animal to her chest. I wait for her to say something, but all she does is stare at me. “What do you need, kid?”
Oh smooth, asshole, you can at least try not to sound like a total dick.
When she doesn’t answer, I try again but soften my tone. “You need a drink or something?” She shakes her head. “You want me to get Faith?” She shakes her head. “You hungry?” She shakes her head again. “Well, what do you want?”
She pushes her shitty, broken glasses up on her nose and says, “Tan I sweep wif you?”
Panic strikes me fast. No fucking way! I try to keep my voice even. “Don’t you want to sleep with your brother?”
She shakes her head. “Dat bed isn’t vewy big and Twistiphwor is sowe so I don’t want to huwt him.”
Well fuck, this couch isn’t very big either. Why the hell does she want to sleep here when it’s apparent she’s scared shitless of me? I see it in her expression whenever she looks at me—especially in the truck tonight, after witnessing what I did to her old man and his buddy. It sucks she saw that, but there was no other option.
“What about Faith?” I suggest, hoping to hell she says yes but she doesn’t. Instead she shakes her head again. I try to think of another suggestion but she takes my silence as a yes and walks over to me. Oh fuck! “Listen, kid, this couch isn’t big enough.”
“Dat’s otay, I’m small,” she responds, crawling up beside me.
I tense and lean back further into the couch. “Yeah, you are, but I’m big. Really big.”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “I know. I tan see dat.”
Then, as if I haven’t been trying to get rid of her, she takes her glasses off and folds the broken arms before placing them on the coffee table. Reaching down by my feet, she pulls the blanket over us and situates herself on her side so she’s facing my chest. I stare down at her, wondering how the fuck I’m going to get out of this.
“Why do you have eawings in yowr boobs?” she asks, staring at my nipple rings.
Jesus, is this kid for real? “Guys don’t have boobs,” I tell her firmly.
“Yes, dey do, dey’re just wittle ones.”
“No, they’re called nipples, not boobs.”
She shrugs. “Fine. Why do you have eawings in dem?”
I think about it for a minute, not knowing how to reply, so I opt for the simple truth. “Because I wanted to.”
Instead of questioning me further, she moves onto something else. “You tan’t sweep eider, huh?”
Well I sure as fuck can’t now. But I don’t voice that. Instead I lie back down and push myself as far back as I can into the couch, since she clearly isn’t going anywhere. And what does she do? She moves closer to me. Jesus, someone fucking help me.
She’s quiet for only a second before she starts again. “I have de wost name in de wowld, huh?” She looks at me and actually wants me to answer.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not that bad. I’ve heard worse.” Okay, I’m half lying. Her name is pretty fucking bad. I don’t know why the hell someone would call their kid Ruth Jean, but I have heard worse.
“Yeah wight, what was it?” she asks, not believing me.
“Tonto Schluckenburger.”
Her eyes grow wide before she covers her mouth and giggles. “Otay, dat may be wowse den mine.”
I grunt. “It is definitely worse than yours.” He was in my third grade class, and I remember that poor kid was fucking ridiculed to death. His parents should have had their asses kicked, not him.
“You have wots of muscles,” she states now, changing the subject again. “And you’re pwetty stwong too. You frew my dad’s mean fwiend acwoss de woom to save Twistiphwor.”
