Chapter 4
Ten years ago
Boston
Ash Riley
Islammed the car door shut and released a breath, then basically hugged the wheel as I tried to get my shit together.
I couldn’t face Nathan until I’d pushed down all the anger in my body.
Work was over for the day, and now I had to…somehow put a smile on my face and prepare for John and Kirk’s baby shower tomorrow. They’d brought their new daughter home from South Korea last week, completing their family of six.
Nate and I had discussed trying international adoption, but something inside me couldn’t go through with it.
I just fucking couldn’t. My brother and I were the products of broken families, and we had so many children right here in the US who needed a safe home.
I’d been born an addict. My biological mother had been shooting up heroin throughout her pregnancy.
My brother’s biological parents had lost custody before he’d turned one, and they were spending the rest of their lives in prison on trafficking charges and murder.
Deep breaths.
I couldn’t let our friends’ joyous occasion wreck my recovery from last year.
We’d been so close. So hopeful. Nathan had even bought a pair of baby socks.
And then…
“I’m sorry to let you know she’s changed her mind. She wants parents who will raise their child in a Christian home.”
I white-knuckled the wheel and drew a deep breath, and I held it until my lungs started burning.
Exhale slowly.
My phone buzzed with a message, and I dug it out of my pocket to see a text from Nate.
I’m not in the mood to cook. Can you pick up pizza on the way home? I know we’ve done that too much lately, but I’m just too tired.
I knew the feeling. We weren’t in the mood to do much of anything these days. Kink hadn’t been on our radar for months, and we’d stopped meeting up with friends.
The latter was mostly because they wanted to give friendly advice.
“Try surrogacy!”
“Have you considered adopting from another country?”
“You could adopt as single parents.”
“Well, it worked for my friends David and Tristan. They adopted twin boys in California last year.”
Good for David and Tristan.
Nate and I were still waiting for our sunshine story. We knew we could increase our chances by stating that one of us would be a stay-at-home parent or that we went to church or that we were single or that we weren’t gay—and thanks, but no.
I made my way home, the fight seeping out of me along the way, and I bought pizza at the place where Mario now knew our names and asked, “The usual, Ash?”
Yup, yup. The usual.
A few months later, we were slowly but surely coming out of our funk, but a rainy Thursday was enough for us to cancel our plans to attend a bondage demo, and we ordered Chinese and stayed on the couch.
“We’re so bad,” Nate chuckled, opening the containers on the coffee table.
I shrugged to myself, not giving a fuck. I had my favorite person in the world sitting right next to me. The parties and demos and seminars and hobbies could wait.
While he plated our food, I got the TV ready. We had three episodes of Mad Men and two episodes of Boardwalk Empire to catch up on.
“How did it go at work today, by the way?” I asked. “Did the little kid show up for his session?”
“He did—I was so relieved when I saw him,” he answered. “The more I talk to his aunt, the more I relax. She’s good for him. She’s in contact with social services to take him in permanently.”
That was good to hear. Good news concerning children who’d been in harm’s way would never get old.
“I think your phone’s ringing, honey.”
Was it? I sat up straighter, peering toward the hallway. Maybe he was right. I heard something vibrating, so I got off the couch and aimed for my discarded work pants.
“It’s Ma,” I said, taking the call. “Hey, Ma, what’s up?”
“Hi, love! I’ll cut right to it. Can you both call in sick tomorrow and drive down?”
I furrowed my brow. “Is everything okay? Is Dad all right?” He’d had knee surgery the other week.
“Oh, he’s fine. This is about you and Nathan.” She made an eeep sound toward the end, and I looked at the phone. What was going on with her? She didn’t fucking make those sounds. “There’s a pair of siblings, sweetie. They need a home, and an out-of-state solution is definitely on the table.”
Holy—
I fumbled with my phone, almost dropping it, as shock tore through me.
The way she’d said that—
My heart started pounding. “Wh-what?” My ears were suddenly ringing so loudly that I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right.
“I met them briefly the other week when they arrived at the group home,” Ma went on urgently.
“It’s Colleen’s case—she opened up about them today.
We had lunch together. Oh, Ash, you and Nathan would be perfect for them.
They’ve been so neglected. Abusive background, parents are alcoholics—you know the story.
We never freaking run out of them. And Dylan—that’s the boy’s name.
He’s about to turn six. He’s done his best to protect his baby sister from much of the violence, so he’s guarded and doesn’t trust anyone. ”
I swallowed hard. My eyes stung, and I turned toward the living room. Nate was watching me with confusion and curiosity written all over him.
“And Hallie, the baby girl, she just turned four—she’s shy and doesn’t say much, which is understandable, of course.”
Right. Of course.
I rubbed at my forehead and screwed my eyes shut, needing my brain to fucking get with the program.
A voice in the back of my mind was catching up.
A voice that belonged to a guy who’d grown up around these stories.
He knew the drill. We’d apply to become their foster parents, we’d go through with interviews and paperwork, we’d hope for the best, we’d create a safe environment for the children to grow up in, and one day, if everything went well, they’d want to stay permanently.
Dylan and Hallie.
I swallowed again and locked eyes with Nate.
Ma was still rambling, and it was time to cut her off.
“We’ll be at your work first thing in the morning, Ma,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m guessing the group home and not your office?”
“Yes! Ohh, I’m keeping all my fingers and toes crossed, my baby boy,” she gushed tearfully. “You know I’m always keeping an eye out.”
A smile broke free, and I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. “I know, Ma. See you tomorrow—when I can form a proper sentence.”
Hopefully.
She laughed. “Trust me, I get it. See you tomorrow. Love you both!”
“Love you.” I pocketed my phone, and a big breath gusted out of me.
“Are you gonna tell me what that was about?” Nate wondered.
I exhaled a laugh, not sure where to begin.
Actually, I did know. “I hope you don’t have any sessions you can’t cancel tomorrow,” I said. “Ma wants us in Philly to meet a boy and a girl who need a home.”
His mouth popped open, and he dropped his chopsticks.
Don’t get your hopes up, keep it cool.
But Ma would never call if she didn’t have a reason to be hopeful. She knows the hell we’ve gone through.
In the ten years Nate and I had been together, we’d been actively trying to become parents for about five.
With some breaks here and there. Which was both an eternity and no time at all.
Each case dragged on for months and months, and it was the worst waiting game on earth.
But we felt each and every one of those months, while we tried to lead everyday lives.
“Could this really be happening?” Nate rose to his feet, his voice shaky.
“I don’t know, but it’s impossible not to hope,” I said. “Ma sounded hopeful.”
“Oh God.” He hurried toward me, and the first two steps kicked me into motion too, so we met halfway, and I crushed him in a hug. “Tell me everything.”
We obviously didn’t sleep that night, and we had to get on the road by two AM anyway.
Right outside the city, we hit up a twenty-four-hour drive-thru, and then we were good on cheeseburgers, coffee, and soda.
I drove the first shift while Nate went through the email Ma had sent shortly before midnight. It was everything she knew about the children, so we could be prepared with the basics.
The children had ultimately been placed in the system when their mother had died from liver failure and the dad had been violent at the hospital, raising suspicion with the nurses. Turned out, the dad had two warrants out for his arrest already.
“Maybe you should talk to the kids first,” I said, biting into my burger. “You’re the professional.”
“I see precisely two children because their guardians are my patients already, and they join each session with the kids,” he pointed out. “You are every bit as qualified for this as I am, baby.”
I wasn’t sure about that. I could be a bull in a china shop. Nathan had endless patience, and he was diplomatic and calm and…just perfect.
“Okay, right here,” he went on, reading from the email.
“It looks like an out-of-state solution is not only on the table but preferred because of a history of harassment from extended family. Your mother put one aunt and a set of grandparents within parentheses. Maybe it’s like your biological grandmother back in the day? ”
Maybe. It could be anything. My grandmother had wanted custody when my mother had lost her rights to me, but she hadn’t been much better herself. She’d suffered from addictions and untreated diagnoses.
“Whatever it is, we can get ready for a drawn-out process,” I replied. “Let the frustrations begin.”
I was ready, but I was under no illusions.
Depending on the potential risks the children were exposed to, I could imagine the top priority was to get them out of the group home and away from the environment they knew, the city, the state, whatever.
But after that…who knew. If they had arrived at the group home just a week ago, I doubted they were done with psychological evaluations.