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“Yeah,” she whispers. “I do.”
I help her make her bed up and chuckle when she jumps onto it with an excited squeal. She reaches out for me with a soft smile.
“Come lie with me,” she says.
And she doesn’t have to ask me twice.
CLEO
Talon and I order food and eat dinner on the floor in the middle of the living room. I grin at him as I reach for the carton of shrimp fried rice.
“You know, maybe I should’ve gotten a couch also. The floor isn’t very forgiving,” I muse.
“Aren’t you glad you have a bed now?” He chuckles and bites into an egg roll. “So? Do you have any plans? What’s next on Cleo’s agenda?”
I shrug. The possibilities are so open that I don’t even know where to start. “I’m not quite sure,” I answer honestly. “I don’t know if I want to go on to college or just look for another job.” I push some rice around. “I guess I didn’t think I’d get this far so soon.”
“Seems you have a lot to think about.” He finishes his egg roll. “And don’t think you have to rush any decisions. You have your whole life ahead of you. Take some time to get acclimated in your new place and really think about what you want for your life. What do you think will make you happy?”
The question is simple yet loaded. My entire life has consisted of being in survival mode to where I haven’t thought of things much further than what I needed to do to pay my billsfrom month to month. Before, I didn’t have money for college so I never thought about going. I don’t have any degrees, so I never had any jobs in mind that I’d want to do. I never thought about things in terms of “what would make me happy.” I only did what I needed to in order to survive.
“I think I may want to help kids that are like me,” I finally say. “You know, foster kids or something. The social worker I had was really great at looking out for me until I aged out of the system.” A small smile settles on my lips at the thought of Mrs. Veronica. She was the sweetest lady I’d ever met. I remember how I used to always beg her to adopt me and never understanding why she couldn’t. She always listened to me and validated any concerns or fears I had, and she always made sure to pull me out of unsafe homes if I didn’t feel comfortable.
“So, like social work or something,” Talon asks.
I nod. “Yeah…yeah, I think that’ll be good. I’ll have to do some research on it, but it sounds like something that would make me happy.”
“It’s a start.” He leans back on his hands. “And I think it’ll be good for kids to have someone who’s been in their shoes, you know? Not everyone knows how it feels to be in foster care.”
“Yeah. Some end up going down a darker path because of the things they’ve gone through while in the system,” I say quietly as my own memories threaten to resurface. I clear my throat. “Is real estate what makes you happy?”
“Actually, yeah.” He shrugs. “I think it’s more so because it’s something that can be passed along throughout our family, so it’s kind of like we’re building a legacy for the Steeles. Dad worked really hard to make it what it is today, so it’s an honor that he’s allowing me and Tristan to carry the torch.”
My appetite diminishes as I take in the pride in his voice and face. “I see.”
His mouth tilts up slightly as he gazes at me. “Anyway, despite the…unusual circumstances that led to it, I’m glad you’re back. We really did miss you.”
“I missed you guys, too,” I say, returning his smile.
“You should come to the house for dinner this weekend,” he says as he brushes his hands together. “We can make it a new family tradition thing. Plus, Dad will be there, and I’m sure he’d love to see you, too.”
The mention of his father makes me bristle, instantly snatching me back to a time in my life I’d rather forget. My breaths come faster as the memories flood back into my head, the Chinese food now feeling like a brick in my stomach.
“Cleo!” Dad shouts from his study.
I cringe inwardly as the guys continue playing their video game as I slowly pick myself up from the floor. I take slow steps down the hall and stop in the doorway of his study. Dad sits at his desk surrounded by stacks of paper and a bottle of whiskey. Ever since Mom died, he’s buried himself in work and alcohol. I’m not sure if it’s a way for him to deal with his grief, but it only means trouble for me.
“Yes?” I ask, my voice small.
“Come,” he says.
I wring my hands in front of me as I hesitate, but my feet eventually move when he aims his pointed gaze at me. He pushes away from his desk and pats his lap. There’s no point in telling him no unless I want to be in trouble. I take reluctant steps over to him and sit on his lap. He grinds into me as he pulls me tighter to him before he scoots up closer to his desk. I try my best not to move, but it’s so uncomfortable when there’s something poking me. Every time I try to wiggle away from it, he repositions me right back onto it, grinding against me for a few seconds before he stops.
He continues with his work as if nothing is wrong, as if I’m not on the verge of tears because this feels wrong, and I don’t like it. He always does this when he knows the boys are occupied, as he knows they won’t come in and see what he’s doing. His hand occasionally touches my chest as he sniffs my hair.
“I see you’ve been using your mom’s shampoo,” he murmurs in my ear. “I like it.”
I cast a longing look at the door, wishing someone would walk in to give me a way out. I wish the boys would take a break from their stupid video game long enough to see where I’ve disappeared to. I wish Mom was still here. This never happened when she was alive. Now I’m stuck in a house with a predator who no longer sees me as his daughter, but as someone to inflict his sick fantasies on.
