Chapter 4 #2
“Damn,” Jus breathes, taking in the dark blue walls, the large double bed, desk and chair with what looks like a new MacBook Air still in its box on it. There’s a smaller box next to it, which has the picture of the latest iPhone on the front.
“I wasn’t sure if you had your own phone or laptop, but I give all the kids who are old enough one so they have something for homework and to track their finances,” Blossom informs us, then pauses, looking at Ant with slightly wide eyes.
“Is that okay, Anatole?” He nods, and I’m not surprised he can’t speak.
This is… fuck. She turns back to Jus. “The wardrobe is empty, as are the drawers, but we can take you shopping over the weekend if you need any clothes or anything else. Or I could get Henry to drive you, or I guess you guys could just go and I’ll take out some of the money from your account for you. Whatever works.”
A pressure in my chest builds. This is everything we’ve never been able to give Jus, but so desperately wanted to.
Years of fucking trying. Every inspection, every rejection, every letter that said not yet, not good enough, not stable enough.
Ant taking it on the chin every time, like it was his fault the system was built to fail us.
A small gasp has me looking over at her, to find Anatole has taken her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it like some kind of gentleman.
“This is so much. How can we ever repay you?” His voice is a husky rasp, full of the emotion that I feel choking me.
“No repayment necessary, Anatole. All the kids get the exact same when they arrive, and they keep whatever they like if they move on or when they leave,” she assures him simply, and my heart gives a thud in my chest. She gives his hand a squeeze.
“Right, house rules then you can chill here or go join the others.”
“I knew there was a catch,” Jus sasses, but she just smiles at him.
“We all eat dinner together every night, no exceptions. The other meals you can decide where you eat them, but I ask no food be brought up to bedrooms because in my experience most children forget to bring their plates down and poor Melissa has enough to clean as it is.”
“Melissa?” I ask, and she gives me her full attention, which is like having the sun burst from the clouds after it’s rained.
“She comes in every morning, Monday to Friday, and cleans, looking after the house for us. To which end, she’ll be doing your room Jus on a Thursday, so please ensure it’s tidy, dirty clothes in the hamper and she can change your bedding.
” He gives her a slow nod, and I must admit, the way she goes from caring to being a general of sorts has my dick twitching.
I like her a little commanding. “Thank you. The only other rule really is that this room is yours, just like the other rooms belong to the other children. Aside from Melissa on a Thursday morning, no one enters without your permission unless it’s an emergency.
That’s every time, and you will notice the others ask before they come in each time.
The doors don’t lock; it’s too dangerous, but you can shut them whenever you like, and everyone will respect that.
You can also tell anyone to leave at any time too, which they can do for you, and you must respect that boundary, no questions asked. ”
Her voice doesn't waver, but her fingers find the hem of her sleeve, worrying at a loose thread like she's done it a thousand times before. Like the words cost more to say than she's letting on.
I don’t think I’m breathing; dark memories trying to surface. Growing up, I never had a safe space, one that wasn’t a cage to keep me in, a place where nightmares became real.
“Well, get the fuck out then,” Jus tests, and Anatole snarls at him, but Blossom holds a hand up, calmly walking towards the door.
“We don’t swear at each other like that, Justin.
” Her tone is gently admonishing, but she’s not angry like many others would be.
Like she has the right to be given how fucking rude that just was.
She stops just outside the doorway, looking back at Jus, then at all of us.
“Please respect this rule. Everyone here has pain and scars, and as a family, we don’t use those against each other.
We’re here to help each other heal, to be the best versions of ourselves we can be.
” She gives us a small smile. “Goodnight.”
Then she’s gone, and we’re standing here, looking after her, and once again I’m speechless.
“Well, shit. Maybe she’s not full of crap,” Jus says into the silence, hissing when Ant affectionately cuffs him upside his head.
“Stop fucking cursing.”
It’s hard to believe we’ve only been here for a week.
A week of Blossom making us feel like we belonged here.
A week of watching her with the kids, seeing how she pours herself into making this house a home, and wishing that we’d had the same care and attention growing up.
A week of trying and failing not to fall for her because men like us don’t get women like her.
Anatole found work on a construction site—hard labor that has him coming home exhausted but satisfied.
He’s always liked working with his hands, getting dirty.
I picked up shifts at the local coffee shop, slinging overpriced lattes to uptight suburbanites and housewives who tip high, giving me looks that say they want more than just the coffee I hand them.
But they don’t have honey-brown hair with gold highlights.
Or hazel eyes that feel like the sun when they turn on you.
And Steele? Steele had been scouting the mechanics shop down by the farmer's market, hoping they'd have an opening.
We were building lives here. Despite telling ourselves it was temporary.
Despite knowing we'd have to leave, eventually.
Despite the fact that every day makes leaving seem more impossible.
Every payslip, every shift, every reference we can stack up — we all know what it is really for, even if none of us say it out loud.
I caught Anatole watching her this morning, that piece of hair falling in his eyes while she laughed at something Jus said. Saw the look on his face—the same look I see in the mirror when I’m not careful.
We were all fucked.
And the worst part? I didn't even care anymore.