Page 120 of Reaper and Ruin

When the kids finally tired of the toys, they explored the clothes hanging in the closet and then finally moved on to the beds.

“I get the top bunk!” Will shouted.

Ari couldn’t stop stroking the soft fabric of the quilt covering the mattress. She stared up at us. “I sleep here?”

I nodded. “Sure. At least for now, until we work out if you have family to go to.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

She looked so disappointed, my heart shattered into a million pieces. How awful had this girl’s life been that she would want to stay here with strangers, ones she’d watched do violent things no person should ever see another doing?

Except I knew how horrible it was. I knew she had probably endured beatings and sexual assault. Knew she had probably been starved and withheld basic life necessities by parents who were sick and cruel.

I moved to pull back the covers and knelt beside the bed as I tucked her in. Her hair was still a matted mess. That was going to take scissors and was a job for another day. But her skin smelled clean and fresh, the dirt and grime streaks washed away from her tiny body.

She was so young. But her eyes held the horrors she’d been subjected to, and the fear this safe place was going to be taken away from her.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.

Maybe it was just that I’d once been this little girl. Neglected and scared and just wishing someone would care enough about me to give me even a tiny scrap of what I needed. At least I’d had DCFS checking in on us from time to time.

But these two kids looked as if they’d been left to rot away in that house, with no intervention. Had no one known they were there? I couldn’t remember family or friends ever coming to the house when I’d lived there. If either of my foster parents had people other than each other in their lives, I never saw them. They were often out, drinking at the bar, but their friends had never come to our place.

Hadn’t the neighbors seen the kids in the yard and made a call? Hadn’t anyone cared they were being kept like prisoners?

Something Travis had said echoed in my head. That he’d been locked in a box underneath the house.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask the kids if they knew about this box, but I didn’t want either of them to ever have to think about that horrible house ever again.

So I just tucked them both in, murmuring that they were safe here, and we would be just in the other room, all night, if they needed us.

Whip picked up two stuffed animals. One a dragon with blue-and-green scales. The other a princess with a felt crown. He smiled down at them fondly and then tucked them beneath the arms of the quiet children. “My kids liked these two the best. Maybe you will too.”

“Thank you,” Ari and Will said in almost perfect unison.

Whip’s eyes were soft, and his fingers hovered over both kids, like he wanted to rub their backs or stroke their hair but knew they didn’t have that level of trust with any of us.

At least not yet.

I stepped out of the way, and Whip closed the door.

I stared up at him, the two of us there in the hallway, stealing a moment alone. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

He shook his head. Then nodded. “I don’t know. I feel like I shouldn’t be and yet…” He glanced back at the closed bedroom door. “I am. Tucking those kids into bed felt as normal and natural as when I’d done it with my kids. The clothes are going to be too big. My two were taller…”

I took his fingers, threading them through mine. “It doesn’t matter. They’re clean. And we can get them new things.”

He stared down at me. “You’re talking like they’re already ours.”

I dared to say the words I knew were in my heart. “Aren’t they?”

Whip blew out a long breath and leaned in, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I don’t want you to get hurt. If we find their family, or if DCFS…”

“DCFS can go to hell,” I seethed. “Those kids are not going into the system.”

He held me tighter, wrapping his arms around me. “I know. I know. Shh. It’s okay. We’ll work it out.”

I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I lay in Whip’s bed, his warm body beside me but neither of our breaths falling into that slow, relaxed state of deep sleep.