Page 5 of This Reckless Home

“Plus, she’s meant to be kept in the conservatory so she doesn’t defecate all over the house,” I gently scold, looking at the doorway to find Anna and Mitchel there.

“Sorry, Miss. Blossom, she got out again,” Anna says, not at all sorry in her tone, strolling into the room and standing next to me. Mitchel is on her heels but looking at the others warily.

“Sure,” I reply, my tone telling them I know they’re full of bullshit, but I’m not mad. Chicken cuddles really are the best. “How about you two lead the way and we can show Justin, Anatole, Nox and Steele the ground floor?”

Anna tilts her head as she stares at Nox. “You’re a bit old to be looked after by Miss. Blossom, ain’t you?”

His light green eyes find mine, and a glint in them has my pulse racing. “Not too old to be looked after by her, no,” he says, and the way he says it makes me think he’s talking about more than just what I do for the children. It has heat rushing to my cheeks again, and his lips tip up into a smirk, like he knows I’m now thinking naughty things about him. “But we’re staying in the pool house, keeping an eye on our younger brother, Jus here.”

“Cool. Follow me,” she shrugs in that way children do, accepting his words at face value and spinning on her heel, grabbing Mitchel’s hand and striding out of the room. She’s so fierce, I adore it. Especially since her home life was so heartbreaking.

Sighing, I turn to Justin. “Could you take Debbie and go with them please, I need a few words with your brother.”

He looks to Anatole, who gives him a nod. I take Debbie from Nox, carefully handing her to Justin, who takes her with such gentleness a lump forms in my throat. Anna and Mitchel are waiting by the door, and they all troop out, Anna taking Jus under her wing, even if he’s older than she is by a couple of years.

I turn to the guys, who are all now standing in front of me. It’s intimidating as hell, but they need to know what they’re potentially going to be dealing with. “I only tell you this because these children will probably see you similar to me, as adults and caregivers, and that comes with certain…issues and responsibilities.” Taking a deep breath, I continue. “Anna was found near starved to death, clutching her dead baby brother. They’d estimated he’d been dead for a few days.” Anatole hisses while Nox curses. “She’s fiercely protective of the other kids, and can challenge adults because she doesn’t trust lightly.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Mitchel hasn’t spoken since he arrived here nearly two years ago. No one knows exactly what happened to him, only that he was found locked in a cupboard under the stairs in his grandmother’s house. He’s wary, hypervigilant, and under no circumstances do you raise your voice around him, okay?” They each give me a sharp nod. “Let’s see, Sally, you know about her cutting. She has other scars, scars her drugged-up mother caused when she tried to cut the evil from her.” My gaze darts to Steele, whose jaw is clenched so tightly I’m worried he’ll crack a tooth. But I go on, needing to get it out at once because if I stop, it’ll overwhelm me and I can’t break down right now. There’s too much to do. “Noah has also suffered physical abuse; he flinches at raised hands and has terrible nightmares that cause bedwetting. Peggy is our youngest at five, and her mum is seventeen, just a child herself, really. We’re working with her, helping her sort herself so that next year she can take Peggy home with her.” I swallow hard, having left the most difficult story for last because it hurts so much. “Rachel,” I swallow hard, tears filling my eyes because how can they not when I think about her. “Rachel’s uncle was convicted of multiple counts of rape and sexual abuse of a minor. She’d been living with him for six years. She’s just turned twelve and arrived with us a month ago.”

“Hey,” Steele’s ocean-deep voice filters in, a touch on my cheek causing me to blink and feel the burning path of tears on my cheeks. “She’s okay now. They all are, thanks to you.”

His dark eyes anchor me, his fingers brushing my tears away, his huge hand cupping my trembling cheek.

“But they never should have had to suffer like that. Why are there such awful people in the world?” My voice breaks on the last word, the tears streaming faster and like a river; I’m unable to stop them.

“I don’t know, sweet one,” he whispers, his own eyes full of pain.

“Miss. Blossom? Are you okay?” Noah’s voice sounds from the doorway, and taking a deep inhale, I turn. The rich umber skin of his forehead is creased. “Just a little sad, Noah. But thank you for asking, darling.”

“Would, um, would a hug help?” he tentatively asks, and my eyes burn with how far this child has come from when he first came to us last year.

“A hug would help immensely, Noah, thank you,” I reply thickly, opening my arms and waiting for him to come to me. A breath leaves me as his small arms wrap around my body, my own coming up gently to encircle him.

“SWEETER PLACE” BY SVRCINA

STEELE

I stare down at Blossom as she hugs the boy not much older than Jus — Noah — her tears drying on my fingertips, and my mind races. She didn’t even flinch when I touched her, which was impossible not to do when her sadness spilled over onto those pretty porcelain cheeks.

And she’s more than pretty; she’s stunning, inside and out. Her skin is fair, the kind that hides nothing — the pink high on her cheeks, the blotchy warmth spreading down her throat as she cries, everything she feels written right there on her.

Everything I’ve seen of her since she blew into this mansion like a spring breeze has challenged my long-held beliefs about this world. And the fact that not once has she looked at us with fear or disgust. Not once has she treated us any less than equals, which in my experience is rare, especially from rich white people.

Since we’ve arrived she’s shown us how she cares for others, and given her emotional reaction to these poor kids’ stories, I have to wonder if she always puts others first. Who looks after her while she looks after those of us who are broken by the world?

I glance at Anatole, at Nox, my brothers in all but blood. We’re no strangers to tragic childhoods, having experienced our own horrors and those of the children around us while we were in the system. A system that usually takes more than it gives, in my experience anyway. They have the same look of shocked awe in their eyes as they look up at this remarkable woman.

We met at a group home, a few years before we aged out, and the place was rough as fuck. Though in mine and Nox’s cases, better than home by a long fucking shot. The home created a bond between us that is stronger than any blood. That has seen us through some rough times, especially when Justin was placed in different homes without us, without Ant.

Eight years Ant's been fighting for him. Eight fucking years of applications and appeals and letters to social services that went nowhere because of our address, our income, our records — Ant's own care file weaponised against him. All three of us have been building toward the same thing. A proper place. Stable income. Something they couldn't point at and call insufficient. She handed us that in about forty minutes flat, without even knowing what it means.

“Thank you, Noah, that hug was much needed,” her soft voice floats up to me, and my arms twitch, something inside me wishing that I could have given her the hug she needed. But that’s fucking ridiculous; how could she find comfort in someone like me? I’m more monster than man most days. “Can you go see how Justin is settling in with the others while I show the guys the pool house, please?”

“Okay,” Noah replies, giving us a look like he’s assessing the threat we represent. I fucking hate that he has to, but know his thought process all too well, especially us having a violent upbringing in common.

“Thank you, darling,” she replies. Her shoulders rise and fall with a deep inhale before she turns to us. Her hazel eyes stop at me, a small smile on her lovely, very kissable lips. “Thank you, Steele.”

My brows dip. “What for?”

She takes a step closer, licking her lips, which sends a twitch to my cock, then slowly reaches out her hand, cupping my cheek like I did hers. Her fingers are cool against my jaw, her skin pale against mine, and something about the contrast — the gentleness of it — makes my chest do something I don't have a name for.