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“Wade, you’re cheating!” Jake, the oldest of the kids currently living here, accuses me with a grin.
He’s twelve, with a head full of curly brown hair and a mischievous streak that reminds me of myself at his age. Except he doesn’t have the distrustful look or attitude that I had at that age.
“Cheating? Me?” I feign innocence, holding up my hands as if I’ve been caught red-handed. “I would never.”
“Yeah, right,” Ellie, one of the younger girls, chimes in. “You’re just mad because we’re beating you.”
I laugh, ruffling her curly hair. “Alright, you got me there, kiddo.”
Ellie beams, clearly pleased with herself, and the game continues with renewed enthusiasm.
I glance around the room, taking in the sight of the kids, their faces lit up with joy, and my foster dad, Ray, watching from his worn-out armchair in the corner. He’s got a soft smile on his face, the kind that comes from years of taking in kids who need a home, who need someone to care about them, and raising them to be decent people.
Ray’s been doing this for as long as I can remember. He opens his door, his home, to kids like me, kids who didn’t have anywhere else to go. I, and many others, owe him more than we can ever repay. He gave me a family when I didn’t have one, a place to belong when I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere, and now, even though I’m an adult, I still come back here every chance I get, to help out and to give back in whatever way I can. He saw past my angry and standoffish exterior and took the time to try to get to know me, to help me. He’s the only foster parent that ever did.
“Alright, I think that it’s time to call it a night,” Ray announces, pushing himself up from the chair with a groan. “You’ve all got school in the morning.”
A chorus of groans and protests rises up, but Ray just chuckles and shakes his head. “Nope, no arguments. Up you go.”
The kids start to gather their cards, grumbling good-naturedly as they head upstairs to brush their teeth and get ready for bed. I help round them up, making sure everyone’s got their stuff before following them up to the bedrooms.
It’s a familiar routine, one that I’ve done a hundred times. I help get the younger ones settled, making sure they’ve brushed their teeth before I tuck them in.
As I’m tucking Ellie in, she looks up at me with those big, curious eyes. “Wade, what have you been working on? You said you had a new project.”
I smile, pulling the covers up to her chin. She’s always been the one to show the most interest in my work so I’m not surprised by the question.
“I’m working on a building downtown. It’s a big one, needs a lot of work, but it’s going to be beautiful when it’s all done.”
Ellie’s eyes widen with interest. “Are you doing it all by yourself?”
“Not exactly,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m working with someone. She’s a designer. Her name’s Auden.”
“Auden,” Ellie repeats, testing the name on her tongue. “Is she nice?”
“She’s… yeah, she’s nice,” I say, a little thrown by the question.
How would I describe Auden?
She’s nice, but nice doesn’t quite cover it, though. Auden is smart, talented, and there’s something about her that makes it hard to look away, but I don’t say any of that out loud. Instead, I just smile and say, “She’s really good at what she does.”
Ellie grins, a knowing look in her eyes. “Is she your girlfriend?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just working together.”
“Uh-huh,” Ellie says, clearly not convinced. “You like her, though.”
“How can you tell that?” I ask curiously.
“You talk about her. You never really talk about anyone. And it’s the way that you say her name. You have a crush!”
“Maybe I do,” I admit, surprising myself with the honesty. “But it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” she asks, genuinely curious.
I pause, trying to find the right words. How do you explain to a nine-year-old that the girl that you’re working with is the woman of your dreams and that you’re too scared to make a move on her?
“Because sometimes, grown-up stuff gets in the way. But don’t worry about that. You just focus on getting some sleep, okay?”
