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"It's not in the past," Knox replies. "It's in here and in there," he points to his heart and then Sutton's, "every damn day. It's there right now."
"Chill, Cutter." Remy shakes his head. He's shared with us that he got kicked out of his house when he was fourteen. He hooked up with Mace and Knox and they became "brothers" by surviving on the street and trying to get by. Remy gave Knox the nickname of Cutter because of his scars. I'm not thrilled with his new name, but Knox accepted so it's stuck. Remy seems to be the most easy-going of the three kids and sort of a calming force when Sutton and Knox have disagreements.
It's been fun getting to know this group. Part of me is sad the obstacle course and security system are done. I'll miss them when they're gone.
***
Later that night, we're alone in our room. Everyone has gone to bed. I sit down on the bed and watch Foster pace the floor. I know we're both thinking about what to do next. We could send them back to Santa Cruz with some extra cash, but the thought of saying goodbye to them makes us both sad.
"Do you need them to build anything else?" I ask Foster.
He smiles at me and smirks. "Was thinking of adding a few cabins."
I have to smile back. "Good idea."
"A boxing ring, an octagon, a target for throwing hatchets." He sits next to me on the bed and takes my hand.
"Hatchets?"
He shrugs. "Cutter's idea."
"I can't get used to their nickname for Knox. Cutter? I mean, isn't that mean?"
"Mace, Remy, and Cutter have their own thing going. What the nickname means to them, we don't know yet. Might never know."
I pat his hand and kiss his cheek. "I think it would be fun if they helped us build all those projects you have in mind."
"You think they'd be open to it?" he asks me.
"I think they would. They're adjusting to being here. Loosening up."
"I noticed that too."
"Sutton asked me to show her how to put on makeup."
"She did?"
I nod. "It was sweet. I like her so much. I don't see how we can just send her back to the streets. Let's ask them to stay."
He nods and looks down. We're both thinking it, but I'm the one who's going to say it out loud. "Things go well, we might look into adopting them?"
He shakes his head. "I'm too young to be their dad."
"No you're not. You're twenty-seven. Knox is the oldest and he's only sixteen. Sutton's only thirteen. They're younger than you were when Henry took you in."
He stares down at his feet. "I've always wanted that but… I don't know nothing about it. How do you become a parent?"
"You tackle it like you've taken on everything that's come your way. Try, fail, work hard, practice it, master it. One thing I know about you, Foster, is you're disciplined and dedicated." I run my hands through his hair, comforting him by combing from his temple to his neck.
He reclines back on the bed and pulls me down next to him. My head rests on his strong bicep.
"Kids do stupid shit," he says, looking at the ceiling.
"We all do. And we all need a safe place to land. Isn't that what you've wanted your entire life?"
"I found it with you." He looks down and stares into my eyes.
"Maybe "us" is a family with imperfect kids and some mixed-breed rescue dogs."
