Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Why bother?” Ian grumbled.
“What? What are you talking about?” Ian looked up to find that Hollis had lowered his phone and was now sitting on the edge of the cushion. His expression was both hurt and confused. “Do you not want to be a foster parent anymore?”
Hollis’s question was like a knife to the heart. Yes, he wanted to be a foster parent. There was little in the world he wanted more. There were so many kids in desperate need of a safe place. After losing the love of his parents and being sold to a pedophile, Ian knew the value of being loved and cared for by someone. Knew what it was to go to sleep with a sense of safety and the feeling of being protected.
“Why should we bother? We can’t keep any kid that we bring home safe,” Ian replied, frustration and pain battling it out in his voice.
“Ian…”
“Don’t! You have to be realistic about this. Kids in the foster care system are going through some rough stuff. They’ve already been through enough in a place they call home. It’s supposed to be safe there, but obviously it isn’t if they’re in the foster system. How can we offer them safety?”
“Our home is safe.”
“Really? Does it feel safe to you? Does our life feel safe to you? We’ve got security cameras outside our home and a state-of-the-art system inside our home. I’ve been attacked on more than one occasion in my life. God knows how many times you’ve been attacked.”
“Most of the attacks on me happened while I was a cop. I’m not a cop anymore,” Hollis quickly threw out.
“And Rowe keeps threatening to have a bodyguard follow me around. How exactly is that going to look to a social worker? You, me, the kid or even kids, and a freaking bodyguard!”
Hollis took a deep breath and stood. “Ian, you’re upset. It’s been a long few days. We didn’t get the kind of good news we were hoping for when we met at Ward’s. But it doesn’t mean we need to toss all our plans in the trash. If you think logically about this, you’ll realize you’re overreacting. Our home is safe. We’re safe. We’re safe as any other family out there. No family can promise that nothing bad will ever happen. Everyone takes precautions against the worst. That’s why we lock our doors at night and wear seat belts when we ride in the car.”
“Yeah, and what kind of precautions does the average family take against Jagger’s former crew? What kind of precautions are they taking against former drug dealers, murderers, extortionists, and pedophiles? Did I miss that on the home prep list between locking away the household cleaners and putting covers on the wall sockets?”
Ian could see the muscle ticking in Hollis’s jaw—a clear sign that Hollis was on the edge of finally losing his temper—but Ian didn’t care. He was hurting and angry. He needed Hollis to be angry and hurting with him. Needed Hollis to understand that everything they were working so hard for was falling apart.
“That’s not our life anymore,” Hollis snapped.
“It is! You just didn’t see fit to tell me about it. How could you? How could you not tell me you saw one of Jagger’s men?”
“Because we don’t talk about Jagger!” Hollis exploded. The pain and rage had Ian stumbling back a step in shock. Hollis shoved both his hands through his hair and paced away from Ian, but he couldn’t go far before he was forced to turn back. His face was flushed and his eyes glistened.
“Can you even tell me how many times we’ve talked about Jagger since his death?”
“No. Why should we?” Ian replied, but his voice had lost some of its confidence and bravado. Even he couldn’t pretend complete ignorance.
“Because it’s a festering fucking wound between us.”
Ian wrapped his arms around his middle and took another step away. Old pains and anxieties came creeping in. Flashes of ancient, ugly memories he’d never fully be free of. “I don’t want to talk about Jagger. It was a nightmare. You weren’t there. I just want to move on.”
“You keep forgetting that I was there. Yeah, I only spent a year in Jagger’s organization, but it was enough to see what went on in his house. It was enough that I could very clearly see the kind of hell you were living day in and day out. I saw those fucking pictures that Dwight Gratton had of you. Those memories flash through my head at odd times, and I want to kill them all over again. I hurt for you, but I can’t talk with you about it—the one person who would understand—because it’s going to hurt you.”
Ian pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing them hard against the burning tears that were trying to break free. He hurt for Hollis and the memories he was forced to carry. He hurt for himself and the past he couldn’t completely shed. “I-I just want to move on. Create a better life.”