Page 7 of Hearts of Fairlake (Men of Fairlake #8)

FELIX

"I simply do not understand why I cannot find the slightest bit of help around here," the old woman complained, her steely gaze locked onto mine. "My porch is preparing to collapse at a moment's notice, and you do not seem to consider that a priority."

"Ma'am," I said, taking a moment to breathe and remind myself I was on the clock and needed to remember some form of decorum. "We are currently booked to the gills with orders. We put out a statement in almost every form imaginable short of calling people individually to let them know our services would be severely limited for the couple of weeks leading up to the festival...which is four days away."

"And as I recall, emergencies were considered an exception," she spat back at me, clearly pleased with her thoroughly clever maneuvering.

"A rickety porch does not constitute an emergency," I told her, wishing anyone else had been put on the front desk today. With so many orders backing up our system, we needed all hands on deck. Except Adam seemed to think we should keep the front of the shop open for people to come in, rather than locking the door and posting that save for an actual emergency, our services were held up.

There was no doubt in my mind that the shop would end up profiting heavily from the festival. The city and those approved to have stalls and setups were given priority for any custom orders. Of course, the city had pretty much done Adam a solid because only stalls and setups that followed specific criteria would be allowed for the festivities, mostly because Fairlake's civic government wanted to make everything look as wonderful as possible. And if Adam's shop just so happened to be perfectly equipped with the supplies and knowledge to meet the criteria in time for the festival, well, all the better for him.

"Do I look fragile to you?" she asked.

I had the distinct feeling my answer wouldn't please her either way. “You certainly seem quite...active, ma'am."

"Of course I'm active. I keep myself that way to bolster my poor health," she said, almost puffing out her chest in indignation. "But that doesn't mean I'm not fragile. One good spill would send me to the ER, and if my son and his husband had any say in the matter, I'm sure I would be quickly thrown into a home. Heaven forbid they would step up and help care for me."

It was a strange quirk of this little town that I realized I should have known which couple she was talking about. After all, how many gay couples could there be in Fairlake? The reality was...quite a few, enough to make me wonder if something was in the water or the air. Even the man I was married to had once been straight, right up until he decided he wanted a crazy, unhinged disaster for a partner. Well, okay, maybe it wasn't fair to say he’d been straight because clearly there had been some bi in him that he hadn't known about until he met me.

Still, it was weird that this town had several gay couples...and Luke was still weird for falling in love with me. I was happy about both, but it was still weird.

"Ma'am," I said with a sigh, wondering whose mother this was and thinking they had my sympathy. It wasn't often I found myself glad I’d killed my parents to prevent them from selling us to the highest bidder, but growing up with someone like her as a mother must have been one hell of a challenge. "Are there other entrances to the home?"

"Well, I don't see what that has to do with anything," she said, and I’d bet my next paycheck, she knew exactly where I was going.

"If you can leave your house without using the porch, then your order will be considered a priority but not an emergency," I said, turning the computer screen toward me and tapping away. "Which means we can be there...the morning of the sixteenth."

"The sixteenth?" she asked, her outrage more fitting for someone calling her an ugly witch, but I let it pass without comment.

"Yes, as early as seven in the morning," I told her brightly.

She was not the first pissed-off person to come into the shop and realize they weren't going to get what they wanted. Adam had started the shop as a solo handyman service that expanded to include others working under him. And then he'd taken the risk of expanding to build custom furniture and the occasional outdoor decoration. Against all odds, both businesses boomed despite Fovel's handyman service being used until he showed up.

People had gotten used to having Adam's services available and were frustrated to be cut off despite the warning they were given ahead of time. If it was a matter of life or death or something that could quickly cost the homeowner a lot of money, we could take a break to repair the damage. Otherwise, people would have to be put on a waitlist or go elsewhere.

"There is still service out in Fovel," I reminded her, hoping she’d be one of those people who would 'take her money elsewhere' as if one lost customer would hurt the business. "I don't believe they charge a great deal extra to come out to Fairlake. It was the go-to service before this place came along."

"I'm aware of that," she said, but with a moment of hesitation. I wondered if she knew that or was saving face. "But I wish to use this service. Aren't we all supposed to pull together and help those in the community? Isn't that what I keep seeing in those community posts and mailing lists?"

So that was how she was going to play. “Yes, ma'am, and sometimes that coming together requires understanding when, say, a business has a prior engagement because of an agreement made to help make this upcoming celebration the best. I can call the other service in Fovel if you'd like."

"I would rather you didn't. I can't believe you won't consider this an emergency. I'm an old woman who would like to use her porch."

Because clearly, a side or back exit would be too much for her. “Of course. We can have someone come out and look if you'd like. However, if the person we send out sees that you have exaggerated the state of your porch, then there will be a service fee."

Her eyes widened. “That...is outrageous."

The bell over the front door jingled merrily, and I repressed the urge to sigh until I heard a female voice, annoyed and exasperated. "Grandma Beatrice, what are you doing?"

"Oh, now I'm getting my proper title?" the woman asked, holding her hand to her chest and scowling at the girl behind her .

"Oh, hi there, Ayla," I said, recognizing the teen. Only to realize what she’d just called my new favorite customer. “I didn't realize this was your grandmother."

"No, you wouldn't," Beatrice said icily. "No one in my family seems to care to make any claim of me whatsoever."

"Dad already told you he and Kyle would take a look at the porch and fix the railing when they had a free day together...which is tomorrow," Ayla said with a shake of her head. "Everyone knows Adam can't handle anything other than emergencies. It was in the newsletter."

"I don't see what this has to do with you," Beatrice said with a sniff. "Not that it matters. I'm clearly not going to find any help here despite all these apparent believers in community."

"Grandma, your version of participating in the community is yelling at the mail carrier for his truck being too loud at ten in the morning, berating the cashier for not bagging your stuff in the way you demand without actually telling him, and a whole list of things I could say that would cover how you only want community when it benefits you," Ayla said. I raised a brow, glad the attention was off me, as my surprise became obvious. Ayla had always been chipper and friendly whenever I saw her. Yeah, she had a quick wit and a decently sharp tongue, but I’d never seen her go after someone like that before.

"Again, I can see I am getting no help whatsoever," Beatrice repeated. "And you have been spending too much time around Kyle."

"That's what happens when you have a parent you love and want to spend a lot of time around," Ayla said, arching her brow. "Do you want me to walk you back home?"

"You mean help me home," Beatrice said with a huff. "I can manage. As this one said, I'm quite active."

I thought about trying to help her out the door, but she swung around, cane in hand, with enough force and vigor that I stayed right where I was. I watched her march out, hobbling a little but still steady as she opened the door and let herself out. Not without shooting us a dirty look, of course, but that was still better than continuing to contend with her.

I let out a low breath. “Jesus. I know that's your grandma, but?—"

"Don't be sorry. Say whatever comes to mind. I can promise you I've said far worse, and Kyle definitely has."

"I'd heard through the grapevine that Ian's mother was...difficult, but I didn't realize she was...that."

Ayla snorted, tucking her hair behind one ear. "She's always been like that. I don't know how my dad ended up being so...well, great. Not when he had a mom like that constantly nipping at his heels."

"He doesn't have a lot of luck with the women in his life, does he?" I wondered, remembering how, once upon a time, his ex had shown up to assault poor Annie and kidnap Ayla. I hadn't been around then, but after working at Adam's, I got to see a lot of the crew that had been involved in getting her back. "Oh, that's...your mom."

Ayla's expression darkened. “I don't want to talk about her . I can't believe they let her out."

"She's out?" I asked in surprise.

"Yeah, let her out for 'good behavior' or some shit," she huffed. "Anyone who’s known her for five minutes should know that's just a facade. Grandma B might be a royal bitch, but she's an honest one. My 'mother' is about as honest as a two-headed coin."

"It's not about honesty," I said with a shrug. "Even just the illusion of behaving yourself is a good way to get yourself out if what you did wasn't that bad. Prisons are overcrowded, and if they can find a reason to get rid of people who aren't actively a problem, then that's when the old 'good behavior' excuse gets rolled out."

"Yeah, well, that's great for her," Ayla said, glaring past me. "I just hope she doesn't think anything has changed since I last saw her."

"Did she ever write you?" I asked.

Ayla smiled at that. “She did. My dad hid the letters, though."

"Seriously?"

"I was twelve and was fucked up in the head because of her. The last thing he wanted was for me to read whatever she thought was important enough to write down. He never got rid of them and didn't read them either. Neither of them said it, but I'm pretty sure Kyle convinced Dad last year to give me the choice to read the letters."

I couldn't help but ask. “And...did you?"

"Eventually," she said, shrugging. "It was exactly the sort of thing I expected. I read them, destroyed them, and I haven't talked about it to anyone but Kam."

"Who's Kam?"

"That would be my shrink. Well, he was my shrink...still kind of is. Sometimes, I think we're more like friends, even though we're still technically paying him for a monthly therapy session, even though he and I talk more than that."

"Oh...well, that's...probably good?"

"You don't sound so sure."

I laughed. “Don't ask me what's good or not. I’ll probably always be running back and forth to my shrink. There's a lot of fucked up shit in this head of mine that still needs to be picked through, and I learned a while ago that doing it on my own is not a good idea."

At that, she wrinkled her nose and chuckled. "I mean, I've always known you and Grant were brothers. But sometimes it's hard to know that by listening to you. He has his own problems, doesn't he?"

"We both do," I said quietly.

She shrugged. “That's life then, isn't it? I just hope that if I ever have kids, I don't screw them up like my mom did me...was it your parents that did it?"

"They did."

"As bad as my mom?"

"I know you're not supposed to compare traumas to see which is worse or better, but...worse," I said quietly. "Definitely worse from what I know."

"Shit," she said, clicking her tongue.

"Shit," I agreed.

She grinned. “But there are worse things than having awful parents. You still have your brother, a great job, live around here, and you've got Luke."

"All very good points," I said with a snort.

Once, I would have marveled at how much life could turn on a dime and dump you on your ass. Mostly because my life had always been one disaster after another, sometimes brought about by my choices and sometimes because that's just how life was. Yet three years ago, I learned that when life turns on a dime, it's not always a nasty surprise. Sure, it hadn't come easy, but if there was anything I'd learned, it was that anything worth having doesn't come easy.

Which is how I ended up with someone like Luke in my life, well, and his whole family. Nothing could have prepared me for the kind of life I would have with him, and sometimes, it still felt like a sweet dream I would wake up from. Worse, I’d wake up and wouldn't even be in my house in Fovel, where my life had started to pick up. I’d be back in one of those shitty motels or bug-infested apartments I’d lived in, usually with shitty roommates .

But no, instead, I got to wake up with someone who meant the world to me. Someone who had found a way to be the port in the storm that was my life and the person who made me feel like I was burning inside in the best way. I had just started to get my life together, prepared to live as a single man while I slowly pieced the shattered parts of me back together. Instead, Luke had appeared seemingly from nowhere, coming to Fairlake through pure coincidence, and now he was one of the best features of that once sad and broken life.

"You look like you just zoned out," Ayla said with a chuckle. "Did I break you?"

"No," I said with a snort, pushing up from the desk. "But what brings you in here?"

"Chase is sending me around to see what people want for lunch," she said with a shrug. "Said I needed to do something other than drive him crazy."

"Something tells me he likes it when you drive him crazy."

"True, but if you try to tell him that, he gets that ridiculous look on his face."

"Not sure I'm familiar with it, but you can go ahead and ask around."

Which was the precise moment the door to the back opened up and Adam appeared. Sawdust coated the front of his shirt, and there were marks on his face from safety goggles, which now sat on his head. He looked more tired than usual, which wasn't surprising considering he was trying to keep up with the workload while taking care of his family.

"Ayla," he said warmly. "Pleasant surprise. Chase send you on another lunch mission because he wants to ensure people are eating?"

"You know it," she said with a grin. "There's not much work at the shop anyway, so I might as well earn my money somehow. "

"Well, come on in and ask around," he said with a sweep of his hand. "And you."

I blinked. “Me?"

"Weren't you supposed to be taking half a day?" Adam asked, raising a brow.

"Well, I...there's a lot going on around here," I protested weakly. "I was going to call and put off the?—"

"Don't," he said, tilting his head to stare at me intensely. "I know Luke is not working today, so you need not be here. Go."

I sighed. “And how would you know that?"

"Because he's been spotted by Isaiah, who, of course, popped into the precinct to ask Bennett why Luke was out shopping instead of in Denver where he should be, and of course, he had to report that to me because he wanted to and knew you were here."

"Jesus. Is this the kind of thing I'm missing by not being in the inner circle of your friends?"

"Yes."

"I'm really glad I'm on the outskirts."

"I don't blame you, now get."

"Fine," I said, almost turning to walk off when the door rang again, and my brow shot up at the sight of a certain sexy man walking in. "Well, if it isn't my husband. What remarkably coincidental timing you have."

"I was instructed to come get you," Luke said dryly. I didn't need him to glance at Adam to know where that particular order originated.

"Amazing," I said with a sigh. "Is there a chance that I could scoot a little further out of that circle?"

"Go," Adam repeated sternly, but it was ruined by his fighting to smile.

"C'mon," Luke said with a shake of his head.

"Fine," I sighed, following Luke into the bright sunlight. " This is almost as bad as all the interfering Grant’s tried to do over the years."

"Hey, Grant didn't interfere half as much as he could have, trust me. My sisters? Busybodies, all of them."

"I remember all too well how they kept trying to find ways to 'trick' us into marrying each other."

"And they're still convinced their interference made it happen," Luke said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walked down the sidewalk. "We'll just let them believe it...mostly because nothing we say or do will convince them otherwise."

There was no arguing there. His sisters were as stubborn as they were determined. In truth, his whole family was...a lot. Growing up, all I'd had resembling family had been Grant. Not that he wasn't family or that I didn't love him, but Grant...well, he and I weren't good for each other most of the time. We'd handled our parents' abuse and neglect in very different ways into our adult years. My brother had always been dependable and had done his best to look out for me, even when I fought him tooth and nail.

Luke's family, though? The only black mark was that his dad had left them, leaving their mother while she was pregnant with Luke. Yet despite growing up pretty damn poor, Luke and his sisters had never suffered a lack of love or attention. They were fiercely protective of one another and showered one another with love, and every single one of them looked to their mother with stars in their eyes, and she was always there for them when they needed it.

That alone was terrifying at times and unnerving because, Jesus, that was normal, and nothing about family and my life had ever been close to normal. Add the fact that they had all pretty much adopted me like I’d been a part of the family for years, and they were pretty much the scariest thing I could imagine. It didn't help that they liked to smother me in that same love and affection, including interfering in my life, something I was notoriously bad at handling.

Luke and his mother were the best, though, and they did their best to push me to accept what I was given and reminded the rest of the family that they couldn't smother me like they could one another. Distance helped to ease things, but just the persistence of his family and the acceptance they gave without thought went a long way. It wasn't completely fixed, but at least now, I could go to a family function without feeling like I was going to lose my mind.

Plus, his mom made the best goddamn minestrone and bolognese I'd ever tasted.

We stopped when we reached Luke's car, and I shook my head when he insisted, as he liked to do, on opening the door for me. I didn't know if it was a holdover from him being straight or if it was just him, but I tried not to let little things like that get on my nerves. We both knew I could open my own doors just fine, but he did it simply because he liked taking care of me.

"Quit," he said without looking at me, a smirk on his face.

"Let me say it at least once because I know you're going to do other shit today that'll irritate me."

"Alright, say it."

"You don't have to take care of me. I'm not fragile."

He turned with a smile, his face hovering before mine. "I don't take care of you because you're weak or fragile. I take care of you because you deserve to be taken care of. Because you're important."

"Bastard," I said softly because damned if that wasn't going to ruin a lot of my protests in the future. "How long have you been sitting on that one?"

"I love you too," he said with a smirk, kissing me. "Now get in. We've got time to make it with plenty to spare."

I snorted, sliding into the car. Thankfully, he let me close the door, and I waited until he got in the car and turned it on before continuing. “You just want to stop by the bakery."

He glanced at me before pulling the car out. “I'm just peeking in, not interfering."

I laughed, reaching over to squeeze his leg fondly. "You're like a mother hen...hovering."

Still, it was pretty nice to see. I had to admit it. He’d been incredibly wary when Grant proposed that if Luke was amenable—his words, not mine—then perhaps Luke could take over the newest expansion of his bakery in Denver. I wasn't one to toot my own horn, but I knew it was me, more than anything, who convinced Luke to accept the offer.

I knew how it must have looked to Luke. Here was his boyfriend's brother offering him a job to run an entire business. Devin managed the one in Fovel perfectly, and the offer might have gone to him, but Devin wasn't fond of Denver and said Chase would probably get blood pressure problems knowing he was there. It could have fallen to anyone else, another employee, or even someone with experience.

So yeah, it had looked like nepotism to Luke. But all I'd had to say was, other than laughing, that Grant did not play favorites with the people in his life when it came to taking care of something he cared about. The bakery and any subsequent expansions were dear to him, and he wouldn't give someone a chance to run—or ruin—it simply because they were dating his brother. No, it was more likely that Sylas had explained to Grant what Luke had done while working for the star, and Grant had crunched the numbers and seen the potential.

It had still required Luke to shadow Louise and Grant at the main bakery and Devin at his location while the new one was being set up. He'd been running the place for six months now, and there hadn't been the slightest complaint from Grant. In fact, he’d said in front of several people that picking Luke for the job had been one of his better business decisions.

High praise from a man who treated compliments like rations during a famine.

"Fine," he grumbled. "I want to make sure everything is okay."

"You've taken days off before," I reminded him, but not because I was irritated. He obviously loved what he did and found something in the work he didn't normally get. That didn't mean I couldn't tease him, though.

"This was an unexpected day off," he said.

"And yet you didn't go in when I tried to bail on the appointment. You wandered around town."

"I was kind of hoping you’d come around before it was too late."

I sighed. “You know why I'm not sure about this. We've already been given how many warnings?"

"They weren't warnings like you think, just things to keep an eye out for," he said with a raised brow. "And normally, I wouldn't push you too hard on this, but I can tell you're freaked out?—"

"You're damn right I'm freaked out," I said, panic beginning to claw its way into my chest. "I can't believe we are trying to get a kid. A kid! You want me to be responsible for a fucking kid?"

"This feels like a bad time to point out that it was originally your idea."

"I'm aware!" I all but hissed, sorely wanting to smack him, but swatted him on the thick part of his arm where he probably didn't feel a damn thing. "Because I was suffering from a bout of temporary insanity. Something the people I love, like, say the man I married, should have known that anything I said couldn't be trusted!"

I tried to glare furiously at him but was annoyed when I discovered his lips twitched...like he was trying not to laugh. "What? What's so funny?"

"Well," he said, his lips stilling after he took a deep breath. "You once told me you wanted me to tell you whenever you were being hysterical...and you're currently screaming your way toward hysterics...literally."

This time, I did punch him in the upper arm, and while he probably felt that one, it was still like punching a bag of bricks and made me yank back my hand with a scowl. “Being hysterical means I'm being unreasonable."

"You've yelled, screamed, freaked out, and hit me twice."

"That's reasonable...and I don't like that you phrased it like that."

"Did you or did you not hit me?

"It...there's no way it could hurt!"

As we rolled to a stop at a sign, he turned to look at me with the biggest eyes and the smallest voice. “But what about my feelings ? Those can be hurt."

For one horrified moment, I stared at him as I realized there was a very good chance I had completely ignored how he felt about this entire situation. And while hyper-focusing on my worries and fears, I’d ignored him altogether. The poor man had grown up loved but had always been pretty smothered, and sometimes his feelings had been forgotten while he grew up trying to be strong for everyone else. Now, here I was, completely losing my mind on him and making him feel?—

He snorted softly and began to pull away, but I saw his lip twitch again.

I was married to an ass.

I gave him another swat, this time on his stomach, and made him huff in surprise. “You're an ass!"

"It made you stop freaking out," he said, rubbing his stomach comfortably. "So I'll consider it a win. "

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"We don't own a couch. We have a loveseat and some chairs."

"Fine, then I'm sleeping on the couch, and you can deal without having me there like your own personal teddy bear."

"You love being my personal teddy bear."

Not the point. “Not very much right now."

He sighed, reaching for my hand, but I pulled it away. Maybe someone else would have caught the hint and pulled back, but Luke was not someone else. He was Luke. Instead, he waited a moment before reaching again, shaking his head like I was the one being ridiculous here, and waiting before doing it again. I smacked at his hand when he tried to grab it again. On the next slap, he caught my hand and pinned it to his thigh as he drove one-handed.

"You know," I said with a snort. "I hear life after divorce isn't all that bad."

"Why now?" he asked softly.

"Probably because it took me this long to realize what kind of shit I married."

"Why decide to freak out this hard about it now? I know you've fretted and worried. You've talked into the night about this before, so...why now?"

I'd known from the start what he was trying to do, which was precisely why I’d tried to avoid his attempts. Now I was stuck in the car, the bastard was holding my hand, and he was genuinely trying to reach me emotionally.

I hated it when he cheated.

"Because...this might be the meeting," I said with a wince. "Like you said, all the warnings we had before, all the roadblocks, those felt...perfunctory. They felt they had to throw all that at us after talking to us for so long. But now? After all of that negative hype? Now they wanna meet with us?"

"It feels like that might have been for nothing," Luke said in understanding. "Like this is when it could actually happen."

"I mean, Jesus, Luke. They're talking about giving us a kid," I said, breathing the final word like it took all the air out of my lungs. "Do you understand how big that is?"

"I do," he said. "But not in the same way you do. I know better than you what it means when you raise them right, and you know what it means when you do it in the worst way possible."

I let out a bitter laugh. “My parents didn't raise me. Fuck, Grant raised me."

"Might not want to tell Grant he's a failed parent."

"Who said he's a failed parent?"

"You're the one always talking about how shitty your childhood was and how awful your parents were."

I paused at that and then snorted, wiggling my arm to try to smack him playfully again, but my hand was still caught. "Yeah, don't tell Grant that. He would probably take it literally, and then extremely personally. He did the best he could and fulfilled a role no kid should have to. And that includes protecting his older brother when I executed our parents to make sure they didn’t try to play sex trafficker or whatever they were going to do.”

"I've always liked that you refer to it as executing," Luke mused with a wry smile. "Not that you killed them or murdered them."

"The law called it that but then looked the other way when the facts came out, including Grant's age. They just shoved him and me under the rug and pretended shit like that wasn't happening all the damn time," I said bitterly.

"Sometimes it's easier for people, even people in power, to bury what horrifies them. Not because they don't care or it's messy, but because it's too hard to face personally."

"Yeah, well, if you can't do that, then maybe you shouldn’t be in the position where you need to enforce laws and help people."

"You're not going to hear me argue with that."

Admittedly, we weren't being given permission to adopt outright. That was still months away. Our sexuality wasn't that big a deal, and our being together for three years had helped, and eventually, being married for longer would too. No, it was going to be that I’d been in so many forms of trouble over the years that made the agency look askance at us.

There wasn't much I could do about the past, which I’d tried to explain even as I showed the changes I’d gone through. Years of therapy, steady employment, and more bills than I'd ever had before that were never paid late, let alone unpaid. We looked better with Luke's involvement. He hadn't seen legal trouble in his life, and his credit had been spotless for almost a decade. His former job as a long-term personal assistant to a well-known employer had raised brows, but I remembered the social worker chuckling when she remembered we’d moved to Fairlake a year after dating.

"Strange but wonderful town, Fairlake," she had said before getting down to business.

I wasn't surprised when Luke let me sit in silence as we drove down to Denver. I had gotten the stronger of my feelings out, and now I had to sit and peel them apart. Now, it felt like I’d been bottling things up for so long, only now dealing with them, giving me no time to adjust or figure out what I was going to do about them.

I stiffened when I realized we were in the parking lot, Luke waiting patiently for a couple of minutes and turning toward me. "We can turn back. I'll make the call, give her some excuse that sounds right, and come back for another try when you're ready."

"I'm never going to be really ready," I said with a grimace. " And if people waited to do something they wanted but were scared to do only when they were ready, nothing would ever get done."

"True."

I took a deep breath, and after giving him a lingering kiss, I pushed myself out of the car, and we walked together into the building. Social Services was not the happiest place. It was pretty rundown. They’d tried to brighten it up, but you could tell from the cracks in the floor, the stains on the ceiling, and the whiffs of mustiness that the building wasn't given the budget.

Our social worker, Jen, was all smiles when she saw us. "Well, it's good to see you two showed up."

"Did you doubt us?" I asked, waiting until she'd shaken Luke's hand before reaching for hers and shaking it.

"I sensed more than a little case of the nerves," she said with a wink before motioning for us to follow her. Like most social workers, she didn't have a private office, just a cubicle, but instead, she led us into a small room at the end where a table with chairs waited.

"You're talking about me...about the nerves thing," I said nervously as I sat at the table.

"I was," she said, closing the door.

I winced, sucking in a breath. "I was that bad, huh?"

"Bad?" she asked in confusion, sitting down. "For first-time fosters? If you weren't at least a little nervous, I'd have buried you in paperwork until you gave up, most likely. We've talked about this. Some foster parents see the children as tickets for government money or...worse."

"I know worse," I swallowed.

"So you do," she said, leaning back in her seat.

I blinked. “Uh...what?"

"Background check," Luke muttered. "You never changed your last name, unlike Gra…your brother. "

"Shit, that's why you wanted to talk to us today," I said, letting out a breath and deciding whether I was relieved or disappointed that’s all this was.

Jen raised a brow. “Absolutely not. I knew from the first background check we did. But what did I tell you when I brought up that your criminal record would make things difficult?"

"That...you believe a person's past doesn't always mean that's what their future is. You have to look at the whole picture."

"Exactly. People like to say those abused when they were kids will often continue the cycle, but that's not true either. Most get stuck in some version of it, and in recent years, they've been the kind that breaks the cycle by just not having kids. But some do break it, and they fight like hell to do it. And all I've seen out of you is someone still dogged by their past," she said with a gentle smile. "Which, in all fairness, so are these kids. But you've been fighting to get out of that pit. And if you can do that, maybe you can help someone to get out too, before it's too late for them."

"Helps when I have someone like this constantly around to make sure I don't fly out of orbit," I said, squeezing Luke's hand.

"Having a strong support system is always a good thing to have," she said with a wink. "And your relationship with each other is another thing I've had to keep an eye on. And all I've seen is two people who not only love the crap out of each other but fight like hell to make that relationship work."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement," I said with a snort. "But, I guess that's pretty accurate."

"There are far worse things you could be considered," she said with a wink. "Now, let me go get the files, and we'll see what we can do from here."

"Sure," I said, waiting until she’d left the room to let my shoulders drop. "Crap. I don't know why I thought we could get through this without everything about us coming up...about me."

"You had to know that something was coming," he said, squeezing my hand. "Does that make you more nervous?"

"No...yes...no. I don't know," I said, peering up at him. "Aren't you freaked out? Worried? You seem so calm, when you had so many concerns before."

He shrugged. “Now we're here, I'm less nervous than when I stood to take your hand and say our vows."

"Wow, I was that scary to marry?" I asked with a laugh.

"Because I knew I was making that final step, committing myself to you, to all of you, and all that comes with it. Which means all that stuff we called corny, about having and holding, to being there through everything. I was committing myself to that, and I wanted to be sure I’d be good enough to give you everything you deserved."

"Jesus, seriously? You should have made that your vow," I said with a shaky laugh. "You giant dork, you are everything I could have ever asked for in a partner and more than I ever dared to dream I’d have. There's no one I want with me other than you."

"And that's why this isn't as scary," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because I know I have you with me, and we will do this together. That's all I need."

"Christ, you make everything seem so simple," I said with a sigh, kissing his cheek. "That's a good thing, by the way...mostly."

"But not, for instance, when you're trying to explain how it’s a big deal when one of the customers at the shop gave you a weird look and then didn't make an order."

"Look here?—"

"Alright," Jen said, entering the room with folders and papers .

"Oh Jesus," I said softly. "Are those the kids?"

"These are part of my current workload. They are either prepared to move foster homes, be put into one soon, or any number of things."

"It feels like one of those sleazy websites where you pick your Russian wife."

Jen wrinkled her nose. “Thank you for that comparison. It will stick with me for longer than I'd like."

"Er—"

"What is getting at," Luke said, the bastard not bothering to hide his amusement as he leaned forward, "is that that's...quite the load you've got there. You're asking us to pick a kid when there's just...there's quite a lot there."

The last was said softly but with enough weight to take my breath away. He was thinking the same thing I was, there were so many kids without homes as it was, but this was just her workload? How many kids were being shoved into the system where they might be helped, and how many were going to go through until they were spit out at legal age?

How many wouldn't even live that long?

"There are a few I think will...suit the two of you better," she said. "Don't ask me how I know. I've been doing this for almost ten years, and sometimes you get a knack for knowing things like that."

"Okay...show us," I said quietly.

It was a painful process, but not because it was slow or tedious. If anything, I would have welcomed slow and tedious instead of the slow-moving horror show we were given. It was everything I expected and everything I'd feared. These kids had gone through horrors so many people would never know in their lives, and all before the age of ten. I watched pictures, heard details and small parts of the story, and felt something inside me crack and grow brittle.

"And then we have Gray," she said, opening the third folder of the four she'd grabbed. A boy. His age was listed as ten, but he wassmall and had trouble looking up at the camera. His expression looked angry as he avoided the lens, turning his face down enough so his dirty blond hair almost covered his dark eyes. But it wasn't anger I saw there, well not just anger, but fear and pain that he was hiding quickly before someone saw.

"Him," I whispered before thinking.

"Are you sure?" Jen asked slowly.

I looked at the picture, and my heart ached. His expression was a mirror of the one I saw on my brother's face so many times when we were growing up. I had never been able to put it into words, but I knew it had always made me ache harder than even my parent's beatings and harsh, cruel words had.

"Him," I repeated, with more confidence, looking over at Luke. He met my eyes, darting his gaze around, and a slow, sad smile crossed his face.

"Him," Luke echoed, taking my hand in his, squeezing and relaxing because letting me choose was the easiest thing for him.

Jen glanced between us, her face a perfect blank mask as she evaluated...whatever it was she was looking for. After a moment, she smiled. “Alright, then, Gray it is. I'll get the necessary paperwork drawn up, and we'll start talking details about what's going to happen next, so you're ready."

"I don't think that's going to happen," I muttered as she got up to leave the room.

Oh hell, what had I just done?