Page 9 of This Reckless Home

His gaze is full of blue fire, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “How?” His voice is a husky rasp.

My forehead creases. “How what, Anatole?”

“How does someone like you exist in this fucked-up world?”

My heart stops at his words, at the pain laced behind them. “Oh, Anatole.” Stepping forward, I reach over the pizza boxes, brushing that piece of hair which refuses to be tamed like the rest of his neat hairstyle. His eyelashes flutter over those beautiful blue eyes. “I’m sorry the world has been so cruel to you. But all we can do is help make it a better place for those who come after us.”

His breath shudders out of him.

“You guys coming?” Nox asks from the dining room doorway, breaking the spell that Anatole and I were under, and I quickly move my hand away.

“We'd best help him; those kids are chaos incarnate,” I tell Anatole, a rueful chuckle in my tone.

Turning, his voice stops me, and I look back over my shoulder at him. “Whatever you need to help, whatever we can give. We will.”

My chest swells at his promise, at the help he so freely offers. Even after everything he’s no doubt been through. I think of the way he looked at Justin clinging to him in the sitting room. Of the social worker's strained voice. Of the studio apartment they told me was home. He's not offering what he has. He's offering everything because he understands better than most what it means when someone does the same.

“Thank you, Anatole.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“FIGURE YOU OUT” BY VOILÀ

NOX

Idon’t miss the way Anatole stares after Blossom like she’s an angel come down to earth. I get it, she’s got some serious Mother Teresa shit going on. But I don’t trust it. Nope. In my experience, everyone has an ulterior motive. Every-fucking-one. Especially the beautiful ones.

She heads in my direction, but gives me a wide berth as she passes, and something in my gut churns. I don’t like that she avoids me, though I can’t really blame her given how much of a dick I’ve been towards her. Though it does reinforce my point that she’s just like all the others, she’ll probably leave just like everyone else. Only Ant and Steele have ever stayed.

There is something mesmerising about her as she gets all the kids seated and with food in front of them, making sure everyone has what they like, pouring drinks, moving through the chaos like a conductor.

“Here’s yours, Nox,” she says softly, and I find her in front of me, holding a box out. “There’s a seat next to mine, if you like?”

My mouth opens, then closes. “Uh, sure, thanks.”

Why am I suddenly so tongue tied? It’s just a fucking pizza. But I follow her around the table and the chattering kids, taking the seat next to hers, Steele on her other side and Ant next to me with Jus on his other side. Staring down, I realise that we each have our own pizza.

“We get one each?” I murmur aloud, glancing at her to find her cheeks that rosy color they seem to get so damn easy.

“Well, I, um, figured you guys are kinda big—” Her pretty hazel eyes widen in horror. “Well, not like big, but, you know, muscular, and must need to eat a fair amount to, um, upkeep all the muscles, um…” she trails off and why is she so fucking cute when she’s red as the tomato sauce on the pizza?

“Thank you, Flower,” Steele replies, his voice laced with amusement, and I stare at him. Flower?

“We should cover ours,” I tell her, knowing full well that would be most of the money we have left for the month. We normally only have pizza if one of us gets a job, and usually split two between the four of us at most.

“Oh, no, that’s okay. There’s really no need; my treat as a welcome to the house,” she says, taking a slice of plain cheese and tomato and taking a delicate bite. I’m surprised she’s not using a knife and fork and is getting her hands dirty. A thought hits me, making my stomach sour.

“Yeah, I guess you make a nice sum from fostering all these kids,” I accuse, hating myself a little for the harsh words. But it makes sense; why else would she not want to take any money?

“Oh, no, I don’t use any of that,” she replies, licking her lower lip before looking past me at Jus. “I can go through all the details more tomorrow, but we’ll set you up a bank account, and half the money the state pays me goes into that, the other half my financial advisor George puts into long-term investments, in your name, so when you turn eighteen you’ll have a little nest egg for college or whatever you want to start your life with.” My jaw hits the floor at her words. She takes nothing and then gives the money to the kids? “The money in your account will be yours to spend however you like. We’ll have to get you a prepaid card because they don’t do debit for under thirteens. And George will go through how you track your accounts and your investments, teach you about savings goals and all that numbers stuff which just flies from my brain.” She gives a little self-deprecating laugh, as if not having a head for numbers makes what she’s offering any less extraordinary.

“I get my own money? To buy whatever I want?” Jus asks, Anatole staring down at his food, his hands trembling slightly.

“Yep. But they pay it monthly, and once it’s gone, it’s gone, so some of the others give themselves weekly spending amounts. But George can help you with all that; he’ll be here on Monday to take you through it all.”

“Wait, you do this for all the kids?” I ask, and she turns to look at me, delicate lines on her forehead.

“Of course, for the time they’re with me at least. Though the investment keeps earning interest, even if no more is put in it, so that it builds even if they move on.”