Afraid to Fly (Fearless #2)

  After making a pit stop in the kitchen for a bottle of water, I padded to the other end of the hallway to Angel’s room. The door was closed, but I didn’t hear any noises that suggested she wasn’t alone. I didn’t even know if she was home. But I opened it anyway, and entered the darkness, hoping to find refuge.

  “Nightmare?” she whispered groggily when I sat on the edge of her bed.

  “Can’t sleep.”

  The bed dipped as she shifted over to make room for me without me even having to ask. I climbed in and Angel covered us both with the covers. I laid facing her but not really seeing her against the shades of midnight that filtered through the curtains. She pressed her chest into mine, her breasts covered only by a thin layer of satin, and wrapped her arm around my waist. I imagined her nipples were visible through the scant nightie and could even feel them pebble and harden against my bare skin. It didn’t stir any sexual feelings inside me though. I had stopped looking at Angel like that a long time ago. This was solely for comfort. It was a necessity of our survival.

  I finally fell asleep sometime around 2 am, clinging onto Angel’s tiny frame like she was my lifeline, and I was drowning in a sea of sharks. I had only begun to drift into the deep recesses of my mind when I was thankfully awoken by the sounds of our front door closing around dawn. Alyssa had left, and obviously didn’t care to come find me to say goodbye. Guess she did “that sorta thing” more often than she was willing to admit.

  “That chick sounds like a dolphin when she comes,” Angel murmured, her eyes still closed.

  “She kinda looked like one too,” I admitted. Alyssa’s O-face seriously needed work, but who was I to complain? She came, I came, what more could I ask for?

  “Dude, I can still smell her cooch on your rank-ass morning breath. Tell her to lay off the asparagus, for fuck’s sake.”

  I snickered before pulling her closer into my chest, placing her head under my chin. We had slept like that for the remainder of the night—chest to chest, holding each other tight. “Jealous?”

  “That I didn’t get any pussy last night? Hell yes.”

  I kissed her crown of blonde locks. “Sucks for you.”

  “Eh. I’m not into sea creatures anyway. You can keep Flipper.”

  We lay in each other’s arms until the sun was firmly pressed into the cloud-scattered sky. I wasn’t ready to get up, and neither was she, but the day beckoned us both. Plus I had something to look forward to—seeing Toby, and ultimately, Raven, again.

  “YOU’RE AWFULLY FUCKING CHIPPER this morning,” Angel remarked as she watched me make my daily bowl of oatmeal. I had already hit Planet Fitness on the corner of our street, showered, dressed and was making my morning bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit. I always offered her some, and she always declined, adding in a few retching sounds to confirm her total repulsion of oatmeal.

  “Well, princess, we can’t all sleep in until noon and lounge in our pjs all day. Some of us have jobs to get to,” I jibed.

  “Uh huh,” she mused look over the rim of her coffee cup. “But this doesn’t have shit to do with your job.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged, causing the strap of her tiny nightie to slide off her shoulder. “But I’ll figure it out.”

  “Nothing to figure out, Ang. Let it go.”

  “I know you. Probably better than you know yourself. I just let you get away with shit because I have no right to judge considering my own methods of self-destruction. But I know something is up with you, Dom. And like I said, I’ll figure it out.”

  I was counting on the fact that she wouldn’t. Angel was entirely too perceptive. If she got wind of my weird—because that’s exactly what it was—draw to Raven, she’d never let me hear the end of it. And she’d meddle her ass off. Shit, she didn’t have anything better to do.

  Being the daughter of one of the richest, most powerful men in Charlotte had its perks, but when it came to Angel, it was solely monetary. Mr. and Mrs. Cassidy were the embodiment of all things WASP—conservative, republican, narrow-minded and judgmental as hell. This also meant they were against her sexual orientation and refused to admit that they had birthed and raised a gay daughter. Instead, they threw her a few dollars in exchange for her departure from their lives. She didn’t get invited to family functions or holidays. Rumor had it, the recent mammoth-size portrait featuring three generations of Cassidy’s hanging in the great room of her parents’ mansion didn’t even include her. It was as if she had been erased from their lives completely. And that literally sickened me.

  Angel could have rejected their money, but I almost felt like it was her last and final connection to them. They had to contact her to send those monthly checks and pay her bills, and every so often, they’d even ask how she was. If she refused to accept the money, they’d have no reason to ever speak to her again. She’d just make it easier on them to be done with her for good. So in her own way, she was punishing them. She wasn’t allowing them to get rid of her.

  My day was much like every day: paperwork, phone calls, and even some groveling for funds towards much-needed programs. There was nothing glamorous about trying to convince people of the benefits of helping the same children that caused them to clutch their purses and lock their car doors whenever they drifted into the more “urban” areas of the city. I didn’t get a reprieve until Amber stuck her head in to remind me to eat something before the activity bus arrived. By the time I had dashed to the snack bar, I could hear the sounds of children unloading, their excited chatter drifting in from the front entrance doors. I threw a couple French bread pizzas in the toaster oven and booked it just in time to greet the first wave of students.

  “Good to see you today, Bryce,” I said, fist-bumping one of our middle school regulars.

  “Hey Mr. D,” he replied with a bright smile. “Scored a B on my Geometry quiz today.”

  I clapped him on the back as he passed and gave him a playful ruffle. “My man. Keep it up, B.”

  “Mr. D! I’m Student of the Month!” a cute little girl in curly pigtails exclaimed.

  “Veronica! I’m so proud of you! Make sure you stop by Ms. Amber’s office for your free ice cream voucher for McDonald’s, ok?”

  “What about me, Mr. D?” another student asked. He had been coming to HH for the past few months, but he wasn’t as consistent as we liked. We encouraged attendance, and if a student came for 30 days straight, they were rewarded. The same for special achievements at school.

  “Darren, you keep coming here and working toward pulling up that that Science grade, and I’ll bring in the ice cream sundaes myself.”

  “Word?”

  “Word,” I nodded, shaking his hand.

  I greeted every child by name, making sure to engage each one of them. Is that a new haircut? How’d that English test go? Did you catch that basketball game last night? How’s your mom’s new job? How are the piano lessons?

  For many of these kids, it was one of very few times when they felt someone gave a damn. They weren’t being ridiculed or chastised. They weren’t being made to feel like they were to blame for the hand they were dealt. They were treated with respect and courtesy, because that was how we wanted them to treat others. We led by example at Helping Hands, and we were firm believers that a little kindness went a long way.

  “Toby! Just the man I wanted to see.”

  As expected, Toby was the last to depart the bus. He appeared much like yesterday—shaggy brown hair, plain, yet clean clothing, blank expression. Still, I refused to let his indifference dissuade me. One of these days, I would say something that he would find interesting, and he would respond. I was sure of it.

  Without waiting to see if he was paying attention or following, I turned back towards the kitchen. “I was starving, so I popped a couple pizzas in the oven. Hope you don’t mind sharing with me. I made two.”

  When I went over to the fridge to grab a couple bottles of water, I found that he had indeed followed me. I mad
e sure to school my features and to not crack a smile. I could tell Toby was the type that didn’t want to be noticed. If I made a big deal about it, he’d just retreat even more into himself.

  After the pizzas were done, I slid them onto plates and set them down on the table where I had placed the water, along with the notepad and pencil from yesterday. I wanted Toby to know that if he did feel like communicating, the option was there. Luckily, he was open to sitting with me, so that was a start.

  “So . . .” I started casually, tearing off a piece of bubbling hot pepperoni and cheese. “Did you happen to catch the game last night? I think Michigan State will totally take the whole tournament. Tom Izzo is like the Yoda of college ball.”

  Toby watched me as I took a bite of my pizza, unblinking, unreadable as ever. But after I chewed and swallowed, washing it down with a swig of water, he reached over and grasped his, slowly twisting off the top.

  “I used to play a little in college, but my school wasn’t that great athletically. I had fun though, and that’s all it’s really about, right?”

  I took a pause to dig into my food and to give Toby a chance to respond if he felt like it. He didn’t, but he did tear off a piece of pizza and pop it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes locked on me at all times. This kid didn’t trust easily. And that usually meant someone in his life had broken his trust.

  Fuck.

  I filed it away for later, and picked up our casual, albeit one-sided, conversation. “I guess not being great at sports was ok, considering I was really focused on getting my degree in education. But don’t tell anyone I told you this . . . I really wanted to be a theater major,” I whispered conspiratorially. “I know, I know. It sounds ultra lame, but I really thought I could make it as an actor. Crazy, right?”

  I put some silence between us, scarfing down the rest of my pizza and giving him the chance to do the same with his. He ate every bit and drained his bottle of water with the same gusto. It was a small step, but it was a start. He was warming up to me, which was imperative to helping him.

  “So, Toby,” I began after we had both finished our meals. “Part of my job is to ensure that you’re not only doing well academically, but also socially. And if you’re not, I get to figure out how to help you. Not as a teacher or counselor or anything like that. But as a friend. Because friends help each other out, right? Think of me as . . . your fairy godfather. Minus the wings and glitter and wand. I am always on your side, no matter what.”

  He was silent, of course, but he blinked, an obvious improvement from his usual blank stare. Maybe this was the equivalent of a head nod, or a verbal agreement. Whatever it was, it was better than nothing.

  “Another part of my job—the sucky part—is that I have to answer to the big wigs and provide them with monthly reports that reflect progress. So I was hoping you and I could strike up a little deal. Your school counselor informed me that you don’t really dig group activities and projects. So here’s what I’m proposing: you can do one-on-one tutoring, skip the whole classroom scene, and then afterwards, you’re welcome to come hang out in my office until your sister picks you up. And then, maybe like once a week, you drop me a little note, telling me how things are going at school and at home, just to get the boss off my back. Cool?”

  Contemplating my words, his eyes narrowed into small slits. Toby’s file informed me that he had been eating his lunch and spending recess in the library. He didn’t have any friends, and he rarely checked out any books. He just didn’t want to be around the other kids. My heart had shattered a little when I read that. I knew what it felt like to be totally isolated from everyone around you. A child didn’t choose to be lonely. It was a defense mechanism.

  I watched as he took the pencil in his hand, rolling it along his fingertips before pressing it onto the paper.

  I gave him a nod and a proud smile. He didn’t know it, or maybe he did, but he had taken a very courageous step. He was choosing to trust.

  I sat in for a few minutes of Toby’s Language Arts session before giving him some space to focus on the assignment. When he was done, I found him standing in the doorway to my office. The door was open, so he didn’t knock. But he didn’t come in either. He just stood there, waiting for me to notice him.

  “Come on in and sit,” I said waving him in. I motioned to an end table I had cleared off and positioned between the couch and an armchair. On it was a Scrabble board. “I hope you don’t mind. I felt like playing and haven’t had anyone to play with. You in?”

  He dropped his book bag and sat down on the couch, sliding over to face the game board. That was all the answer I needed.

  “I’m assuming you know how to play,” I said offering him his share of letter tiles. This time, he gave me a single, stiff nod. “Good. I’ll try not beat you too badly then.”

  I was aware of my verbiage, and purposely used the terminology to gauge his reaction to the playful threat of violence. No flinching or diversion of his eyes. That was good. Damn good.

  We had played almost entire game when we heard footsteps approach my office. Most of the other kids were in the gym or in the snack bar, and since it was already 5 o’clock, I assumed it could only be one person. Raven.

  “Hey, kid,” she smiled as she entered. However, when she cut her eyes to me, that smiled was just as quickly erased and replaced with a scowl. I was starting to think that those were the only two facial expressions this chick owned—smile and scowl.

  “We’re just about done here. Wanna join in?” I asked, despite her hostility.

  “No,” she snapped. “I have to get to work.”

  At that, Toby picked up the pad and pencil I’d given him.

  Busted.

  I didn’t even try to hide my amusement at Raven’s shock and embarrassment when she leaned over to read her brother’s words, and I wasn’t the only one. A small smile crept its way onto Toby’s face although he diverted his eyes down to the board. He knew what he was doing. This kid was on my side! Even he knew his sister was being prickly.

  “Fine,” Raven huffed, plopping onto the couch beside her brother and crossing her arms across her chest. She wore scrubs again, but these were light pink with little teddy bears on them. I knew she was a nursing student, but I wasn’t sure of her specialty.

  “Pediatric rotation today?” I asked, tipping my head towards the cutesy pattern.

  “Labor and Delivery,” she answered flatly, refusing to give me anymore. That was fine. She could ice me out all she wanted. Toby wanted to stay, and it seemed like he would get his way.

  “Your move, homie,” I said, after tallying up my points for my last move. Toby took a few minutes to contemplate his next word as Raven scooted closer to him to inspect what letters he had left.

  “Play those,” she whispered. “Triple word score.” Toby realized what she meant and sure enough, she was right. Her smug smile was equal parts arrogance and drop-dead gorgeous. Even covered in Pepto-Bismol bears, she was the most stunning woman I had seen in ages, and that was saying something.

  Before Raven, every beautiful girl was quickly secretly compared to the one woman I couldn’t have: Kami. They were just one of a long line of buts.

  She’s pretty, but she’s not as pretty as Kami.

  She’s smart, but she’s not as smart as Kami.

  She’s kind, but she’s not as kind as Kami.

  Raven wasn’t any of those things, and I was ecstatic. She wasn’t just pretty; she was striking in a dangerously edgy way with her nearly black hair, pale skin and vivid blue eyes. She was obviously smart, but it was more than that. She was shrewd and skeptical, which, considering she was the legal guardian of a troubled little boy, was definitely a good thing. And she wasn’t nice. Not at all. If I were a different kinda man, I’d say she was a straight up bitch.

  But I wasn’t. So I didn’t.

  Instead, I answered her little cutting glares, eye rolls and pursed lips with a teasing smirk, ensuring that she couldn’t ever truly believe
I was a jerk, even if she wanted to. And yeah, she wanted to. She wanted to hate me, yet I didn’t understand why. Come on, nobody hated me. I was a good guy—easy on the eyes, respectful, loyal. Even when I shouldn’t have been—even when I should have been a total dick to everyone around me—I still chose to strive to be decent. There was enough ugliness in my world. I didn’t want to contribute to it.

  Whatever the case, my plan seemed to work. It didn’t take long before she was actively participating, and—could it be?—enjoying herself. Even Toby had cracked a few toothy grins.

  It was half past five when we finally wrapped up our game, with Toby and Raven taking the W. Well shit. And I didn’t even let them win. But the loss was totally worth it.

  “Hey, kid, I’ll meet you at the car in a couple minutes. Go find us a good radio station,” Raven said, tossing Toby the car keys. The very second he was out of earshot, she was pinning me with her dubious stare, blue eyes filled with fire.

  “What the hell is your deal with my brother?” she spat, fists digging into her shapely hips.

  I frowned, caught off guard by her demeanor. We had been having a good time. Her brother was opening up, getting comfortable enough to communicate. I was confused. Had I missed something? “I’m a mentor here at HH. I’m interested in all our students’ success.”

  “But I don’t see anyone else in here. Why have you taken a special interest in him?”

  “Our center’s director thought he’d do better with one-on-one interaction, and I have to agree. Toby is a special kid, and we just want to see him do well.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” she sneered. “Of course, he’s special. That’s why, if I find out that you have any interest in him beyond professional—if you even look at him in any other way—I will fucking castrate you. That’s a promise.”