Today's Promises (3 page)

Flynn

T
here are no nightmares for Jaynie—or me—on Friday night. It’s not because I found a cure or anything, although I sure as hell wish there was one and I
could
find it. But no such luck. The lack of bad dreams in this case is simply the result of not sleeping.

I’m awake most of the night, tossing and turning. And that, in turn, keeps Jaynie awake.

“Sorry, babe,” I mutter as I turn to her sometime after five in the morning.

She touches my cheek. “It’s fine, Flynn. But you have no reason to be nervous. You know this, right?”

“Yeah… I guess.”

Despite Jaynie’s reassuring words—and I know they’re true—I just can’t relax. I am nervous as hell because tomorrow I’ll be visiting with a little boy and a little girl who couldn’t be any more my siblings than if we shared blood. Cody and Callie are the twins who lived with Jaynie and me in our last foster home. And I’m finally going to see them again.

“Jesus, I love those kids,” I say.

“I know, Flynn.” Jaynie rubs my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

Still, I’m anxious. “I haven’t seen the twins in six months.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she insists. “They love you so much, Flynn. And love like that doesn’t fade, not even with time.”

I hope she’s right. Six months of not seeing the twins is longer than my time away from Jaynie. Allison Lowry, Mrs. Lowry’s bitch of a daughter, ripped Cody and Callie away from us when she sent them to a group home back in August. Luckily, another of our foster siblings, an awesome girl named Mandy, rescued the kids and is currently fostering them up in Morgantown.

I’ve missed the twins a lot since I last laid eyes on them, and I think of them every fucking day. Hell, I
hope
they remember me when we reunite, especially Cody. He’s always reminded me of the little brother I once loved so very much.

“When will the twins be nine?” I ask Jaynie as I try to focus on something other than my little brother, Galen. “I should know that,” I add, “but I suck at birthdays and shit.”

I flip over to my back and stretch out diagonally across our bed. Jaynie sits up so I can lay my head in her lap. She starts combing her fingers through my hair. She’s still trying to help me relax, though the movement is probably soothing to her, as well.

“Their birthday’s not till April,” she replies softly.

“That’s right.” I glance up at her. “I remember now. Last year Mandy and I saved a couple of those crappy nutrition bars, the ones Mrs. Lowry used to give us for breakfast—”

“Ugh,” Jaynie interjects.

I nod, agreeing completely. “I know. Gross, right? But that was all we had. Anyway, Mandy found a pack of old birthday candles up in that old barn in the fields and we loaded up each bar with four candles apiece, making it eight in all. Then we sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to the twins.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. I bet Cody and Callie loved that.”

“Yeah, I think they were happy we remembered their day. Wish we could’ve done more for them, though, you know?”

Jaynie knows I’m plagued with regrets, and her hand stills. “Hey,” she says. “You and Mandy did what you could, Flynn. You have to stop beating yourself up when it comes to things in the past. Not to mention, all is not lost. We can make their birthday special
this
year. Let’s drive up to Mandy’s that day, okay? We can all do something fun together. We should have a car by then.”

She pauses, letting it sink in for me that her car comment is her supporting me in going for that job in Forsaken, despite how much she despises that town.

I look up at her. “Hey, thanks, babe. For everything, I mean. I really don’t know how I made it through all those horrible months without you around, keeping me sane.”

“I was always there with you,” she whispers.

And in a way, she was.

I choke up a little at those memories of the bad days in the past. But Jaynie comforts me with words of reassurance that we’ll never again be apart.

Eventually, we maneuver till we’re lying on our sides, face-to-face. With one of her legs draped over mine, I marvel at how things have changed from when we first met.

“Hard to believe there was once a time I couldn’t touch you,” I say.

My hand is on her hip and I squeeze lightly.

“I know,” she replies, a little breathless. “But I sure do love how you touch me now.”

Jaynie pushes her body against mine suggestively, and, chuckling, I nod down to our pressed-together selves. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“We have,” she agrees, smiling. And then, in a contemplative tone, and with her body going lax, she says, “There is one thing, though… Something I think about a lot.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t think I could
ever
be this way with anyone but you, Flynn. Really, I don’t.”

My male-possessiveness side rejoices, but then my heart twists when she lets out a sob and adds, “That’s one reason why you can never leave me again, okay?”

When Jaynie cries harder, I pull her close to me. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. I told you before that I’m not going anywhere. Not now, or ever. In fact, now that I’m here, you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Good,” she chokes out against my shoulder.

God, I don’t think my reassuring will ever be enough. It takes a lot of words to lessen the pain caused from one’s actions.

Caressing Jaynie’s back through the thin tank top she’s wearing, I try to lighten the dismal pallor that’s fallen over us like a dark veil.

“Oh, you say that you want me around
now
,” I begin. “But I bet you a million dollars there’ll come a day when you’re so sick of me that you’ll be asking me to go find myself a man-cave, or some other place you can send me to when I’m getting on your last nerve.”

“Never, never, never,” she insists.

Jaynie proceeds to grasp and hold on to the back of my tee like I’m her life raft. And I guess, in a way, I am.

“That will never happen,” she hisses adamantly.

“Aw, Jaynie, I was just kidding around,” I assure her.

“I know, Flynn. But I swear to you I will never get sick of having you around. I exist for you.”

“And I for you,” I reply as I bury my nose in her auburn hair and breathe in this girl that I love.

I may be her life raft, but she sure is mine as well.

Jaynie

F
lynn can’t keep his hands still on the steering wheel. Tapping along to the low music playing in the background, flexing his fingers, stretching out his hands—I swear it’s something every few minutes.

And we still have half an hour to go till we reach our destination.

“Hmm, someone sure is getting in their hand exercises today,” I tease.

I’m trying to add some levity to ease Flynn’s anxiety, but my attempt at humor goes over like a lead balloon.

“Okay,” I murmur.

Flynn chews at his lip, then glances over at me. “I’m good,” he says, with false bravado. “I feel totally confident about this visit with the twins.”

“Sure, Flynn,” I reply.

His gaze remains fixed my way, and I have to point to a stretch of windy interstate up ahead and remind him he’s driving.

“Uh, eyes on the road, mister. Bill was nice enough to loan us his car for the day. We should probably try to return it to him in one piece.”

“Ha-ha, Jaynie,” Flynn remarks. But he does re-focus to the road, even if it is with more finger-tapping on the wheel.

Placing my hand on his leg, the denim of his jeans worn to a buttery smoothness that’s comforting in its own way, I say softly, “Hey, quit worrying so much. Remember what I told you last night. The twins are going to be
thrilled
to see you.”

Sighing, he replies, “I just hope you’re right. It’s been so long. And you know how kids forget things.”

“Not these kids, Flynn,” I murmur.

When he lets out a ragged sigh, I squeeze his leg. Hopefully I’m reassuring him that things are going to be just fine.

Flynn can’t see what I see. He’s blinded by too much guilt—unnecessarily so, of course—for not being able to see the twins for so long.

It doesn’t matter.

I know for a fact the twins can’t wait to see Flynn, especially Cody. When I was up in Morgantown recently, visiting with them and Mandy, not only did both kids remember Flynn—which, really, how could they ever forget him?—but Cody actually thought he might be with me that day.

When he realized I’d come alone, he was so disappointed.

It broke my heart.

When I think on it more intently, that entire day was bittersweet. Back then I didn’t know if
any
of us would ever again see Flynn. All I knew at that time was that he was making a conscious decision to stay away. It was only after he and I reunited that I found out the truth—that the evil Mrs. Lowry was keeping Flynn from all of us.

I should’ve known that was the case. I bear my own guilt for trusting him so little. Fucking bitch Mrs. Lowry and her machinations.

“I’m so glad she’s in prison,” I spit out, my venom fueled by the memory of my days away from Flynn and time that can never be recaptured.

We don’t speak much of the horrors we suffered at the Lowry house, but Flynn knows exactly whom I’m referring to.

“Don’t worry,” he replies, his jaw suddenly set firm. “That bitch will live out the rest of her days in a prison cell. Allison will be locked up for a long time too.”

Yeah, but for how long?
I think as a wave of nausea hits me.

Allison was the reason we had to run on the night that turned out to be our final hours spent in foster care. And what rough hours they were. After Allison kicked the living shit out of me, I lost the baby I was carrying. That tiny snuffed-out life was my child, and Flynn’s.

One thing for certain—I will
never
forgive that bitch for taking away what was ours.

Overwhelmed, I twist so I can stare out the window and not think of anything. “I just need a minute,” I tell Flynn.

He says nothing. He just gives me my space. Good, he knows I need this quiet time. But my quiet time is short-lived when memories creep back to the forefront of my mind.

A light rain begins to fall and droplets, not unlike tears, bead on the glass.

I peer past the raindrops—tears—to the scenery passing by. Even those small glimpses, like images on hyperdrive, it’s still too much. Every damn thing we pass is a reminder of my past—like the way the cliffs on the side of the interstate look so similar to the precipice I plunged from that final, horrible night.

Memories of ice-cold water and the raging current wash over me, and I shudder in response.

One of my recurring nightmares is that I don’t make it out of the water. Instead of finding a way of working with the current, as I did, I am held under by unseen hands—Allison’s hands.

I know it’s her pushing me down because, as my lungs fill with icy water, all I hear is her laughing… and laughing… and laughing.

I blink, panicked that my view has turned watery.

But no, wait.

My eyes are filled with tears, not with the water from the river that exists so vividly in my head.

Way off in the background, like an echo, I hear Flynn, desperately pleading, “Jaynie… Jaynie…. Talk to me, babe. You’re shaking. Are you all right?”

I’m not all right, not at all. But I’m a little better when he pulls over to the side of the highway. There, it’s the whir of the cars flying by that returns me to reality.

Flynn unbuckles his seat belt, leans over, and wraps me in his arms. “Hey, hey,” he whispers in my hair.

Better, better
.
Flynn always makes me feel better
.

“I’m sorry I mentioned her name, okay?”

“It’s not your fault,” I mutter. “I just… I just feel like I’m always living in fear. I can’t stop thinking that Allison will come and find me someday. So she can finish the job.”

“She’s in prison, Jaynie,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, but really, when you think about it, how much longer is she going to stay locked up?”

Flynn has no answer, and I sob harder against him.

My fear is not unfounded; that’s what is so frightening. Mrs. Lowry, Allison’s mother, is serving a long sentence, with little possibility for parole. She will most likely remain behind bars for her entire life, as she committed far more crimes than Allison, crimes with stiffer sentences. Mrs. Lowry did things like embezzle hundreds of thousands of dollars from innocent people. Allison, on the other hand, was found guilty of one crime only—fraud. She used to cash the state checks meant for her mom to use for our care.

What a joke.

Sadly—and because sometimes the world works in grossly unfair ways—neither Lowry woman was ever charged with any kind of crime related to the torment of the kids they fostered.

In the end, it came down to their word against ours.

It kills me, though, to think Allison’s fraud is classified as a non-violent felony. It is, but, still… How ironic, considering what all she did to me. Nonetheless, here we are, all these months later, facing the cold hard truth that Allison won’t remain in prison forever. Far from it, in fact. With prison overcrowding plaguing the local correctional facilities, Flynn and I
know
Allison has a high likelihood of being up for parole as early as sometime next year.