Chapter 9 Roan
ROAN
Christmas music played through his SUV’s speakers as Roan drove Cody home later that afternoon.
It was nearly dark by the time they reached the edge of town.
Street lamps and twinkling lights flickering on, making everything festive.
Roan wondered what Cody’s foster home would look like in comparison.
He had a feeling it would not be as charming as their little town.
“Thanks for the ride,” Cody said. “I sometimes walk, but it’s cold and dark.”
“No problem. That’s a long walk from the studio. Hit me up anytime.”
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”
“How long does it take you to walk home from town?” Roan asked.
“About forty minutes if I hustle.”
“Forty minutes in this weather?” Roan frowned. “Isn’t there anyone at home to pick you up?”
Cody laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “The Pattersons? No. They’re not really the ‘picking kids up’ type. More the ‘make sure we’re fed and clothed enough that the state doesn’t ask questions’ type.”
The casual way Cody said it brought a dull ache to Roan’s chest. Like it was just a fact of life, nothing unusual.
“How many kids are in the house?” Roan asked.
“Six right now. Used to be seven but one aged out last month. They’ll probably get another placement soon. They usually do.”
“That’s a lot of kids.”
“Yeah. It’s loud. And there’s never enough hot water. I’ve learned to shower fast. But it’s fine. Could be worse.”
Could be worse. Was the bar really set that low for this kid?
“Feel free to use the shower at the gym anytime,” Roan said.
“Really?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks. I might do that. This is it here.” Cody pointed to a dirt driveway on the right.
Roan pulled into the driveway and put the SUV in park. From what he could see in his headlights, the house needed paint and the yard was overgrown despite winter killing most of the vegetation. A rusted swing set sat in the side yard, one swing broken and hanging by a single chain.
“You want me to walk you in?” Roan asked.
“Definitely not.”
“I’d like to meet your foster parents. Make sure they know you’ve got people checking on you.”
Cody’s expression flickered with surprise before settling back into his usual guarded neutrality. “Okay.”
They got out of the SUV and walked to the front door. Before Cody could knock, the door swung open. A man in his fifties stood there, heavyset, wearing sweatpants and a stained T-shirt. He crossed his arms over his large belly and stared down at them.
“You’re late.”
“I texted,” Cody said. “I was at dance class.”
“Dance class.” The man said it like Cody had admitted to robbing a bank. “That better not interfere with your chores.”
“It won’t.” Cody gestured toward Roan. “This is Roan Hayes. He opened the gym I told you about.”
The man finally looked at Roan. “Right. The stuntman.”
Roan held out his hand. “Roan Hayes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Patterson. I’m working with The Bridge Program through the church. Mentoring Cody.”
“Bridge what now?” Patterson narrowed his eyes. “He in trouble?”
“No. The program is for kids who need a little boost. Providing support, activities, mentorship.”
“He doesn’t need mentoring. He needs to follow the rules and stay out of the way.”
Roan’s fists clenched. Stay out of the way. Like Cody was a piece of furniture, not a kid.
“I hope you’re not here to bully me and the wife to go to church,” Patterson said. “We’re not the churchy kind.”
“No, sir,” Roan said. “That’s not the aim of the program.”
“What is the aim exactly?” Patterson asked.
“We’re providing group activities. A place for the kids to go after school where they feel safe. Cody’s doing great by the way. He’s working out at my gym, taking dance classes, making friends.”
“As long as it doesn’t cost me anything.” The man stepped back from the door. “Cody, get inside. Lisa needs help with dinner.”
Cody moved toward the door. Roan caught his arm gently. “See you Monday at three?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“And if you need anything before then, you’ve got my number.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Cody said under his breath, before he slipped past Patterson and into the house. Roan caught a glimpse of the interior—worn furniture, clutter, several other kids visible in the living room, all glued to a television. The house smelled like old grease and stale air.
Patterson started to close the door.
“Mr. Patterson. Just so you know, Cody’s going to start helping me out at my gym.”
“For pay?”
“In exchange for training to start. But we’ll see how things go.”
“You bringing him home afterward?” Patterson asked.
“I will, yes.” Roan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket instead of what he really wanted to do with them, which was to knock this guy halfway into his house.
“Then what do I care?”
“I’d have thought you would,” Roan said. “Since he’s under your care.”
“You’d be wise to mind your own business.”
The door slammed in Roan’s face.
He stood there for a moment, hands clenched inside his pockets, fighting the urge to knock again, to demand better for Cody.
But what could he do? The system was the system.
Patterson probably wasn’t breaking laws.
He was feeding the kid, housing him, technically meeting his obligations.
The fact that he was treating Cody like an inconvenient obligation rather than a human being wasn’t technically abuse.
Still, it was wrong. Cody deserved better.
Roan walked back to his SUV and sat in the driver’s seat for a few seconds, engine off, staring at the house. A light went on upstairs in what might be Cody’s room. A small window, probably a bedroom he shared with another kid. Maybe two.
Cody was just trying to stay out of the way. Making himself invisible. Trying to survive until he aged out and could escape. What kind of future lay ahead for this kid? Did Cody even dare let himself dream of a better life? One filled with purpose and love?
And what about Marcus? No place to live? Avoiding the system like the plague?
Roan knew what it was like to look into the future and see nothing but a wall of blackness, nothingness.
No way out. No way in. But he'd had Jason.
Even when he'd accepted that giving Reese her freedom was better for her, even when his heart was broken, he'd had his twin—the one person who would always have his back.
Who had Cody’s back? The answer was obvious. No one. The thought came suddenly, almost like a voice in his ear. What if you could? What if you took them? Wouldn’t they be better off with you than anyone?
Roan shook his head, started the engine. That was crazy. What was he thinking? He didn't know anything about parenting or how to maneuver through the foster program. He'd just gotten back to town. He was barely managing to give himself a fresh start, let alone a hurting teenager.
But as he pulled out of the driveway, the thought lingered.
What if he could make it happen? The idea felt right despite all the practical roadblocks.
For now, he'd keep it to himself. He didn't need anyone to tell him how risky this would be.
He already knew. And yet, a spark of hope settled in his chest. What if he could do something that mattered? Wasn't that the man he wanted to be?
The man his mother had thought he was. The man he desperately wanted to be for Reese. To prove to himself and her that he was a good, reliable person. A man to build a life with.
Saturday morning, Roan was at the gym by nine.
He did deadlifts, pull-ups, and the rowing machine, pushing his body until his muscles screamed for mercy.
Physical exhaustion usually cleared his head, but not today.
By eleven, he'd showered, changed, and tried to focus on regular Saturday tasks—grocery shopping, laundry, answering emails from potential gym clients.
But his mind kept spinning in loops. Cody in that house, being told to stay out of the way. Marcus with everything he owned in a backpack. The thought that had come to him last night: What if he took them in?
And underneath it all, threading through every thought was Reese.
He couldn't stop thinking about her or dreaming about her or wanting her. The more time he spent with her, the more sure he was that he was still in love with her. He'd never stopped. Fifteen years, several failed relationships, thousands of miles, and his heart still belonged to Reese Monroe.
The question was what to do about it. And that's where things got complicated, because the two thoughts—fostering the boys and winning back Reese—had tangled together in his mind until he couldn't separate them anymore.
If he brought Cody and Marcus into his life, what would Reese think?
Would she see it as proof that he'd changed?
That he was no longer the scared eighteen-year-old who'd run from responsibility?
Or would it scare her away? A single guy taking in two traumatized teenagers, barely back in town, still figuring out his own life, might seem ludicrous to her. And maybe it was.
Worse, though? The question that made his stomach twist with shame—was he thinking about fostering these boys to impress her?
The thought made him feel sick. Using kids as some kind of grand gesture to prove himself worthy?
That would make him worse than Patterson.
At least Patterson was honest about his motivations.
But if Roan was doing this to win back a woman, what did that say about him?
He dropped his head into his hands, elbows on the kitchen table. Was he really that selfish? That calculating?