When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(16)

Loud chatter and smiles greet us. Bridgette, a curly haired, blonde five-year-old runs up and wraps her arms around my legs. She sits on top of my tennis shoes and stares up at me with eager eyes.

“Hey, Bridgy.” I pet the top of her head.

“Hi, Mr. Graham.” Her angelic voice makes my smile grow bigger. “Are you going to play house today?”

“I owe Ben a rematch at air hockey, sweetheart.” As she goes to stand from my foot, I take her hand to steady her.

Kennedy clears her throat. She grins, then crouches down to Bridgette’s level. “I’ll play house with you if you’d like.”

The apprehension in her voice makes me want to laugh. The way Kennedy presents herself to everyone is kind and tender. There’s no way any little girl wouldn’t want to be around her.

Bridgette grabs Kennedy’s hand and drags her toward the playhouse and kitchen in the back corner. They smile and chat. Several times, Kennedy stops and eyeballs me. I wave to her once and then set out to find Ben.

Several passageways link together to connect the entire building structure, with the administrative offices in the middle. As I take the hallway to where the boys sleep, I nearly run into Betty, the unofficial house mom. She’s the one responsible for keeping this place on its feet. Without her, none of this would be possible.

I hold her at arm’s length to steady her feet. “I’m so sorry, Betty.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re here.” She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow. “You going to explain to me who the pretty girl is? Please, tell me you didn’t drag her down here to impress her.”

“That’s Kennedy,” I answer with a knowing smile. Betty and I have had plenty of conversations about my past. She’s helped me overcome some of my history as I remember it in my own mind.

“Kennedy, like Kennedy, Kennedy?” Her smile widens, making me laugh.

With a careless shrug, I slouch against the wall. “I’m as surprised as you. She sort of snuck up on me.”

“The good ones usually do. Make sure you bring her to my office before you head out. I’d like to know the girl responsible for the man you are.”

“Can you refrain from saying things like that, please?” I beg. With a quick smile, I start down the hallway in search of my buddy.

“He’s in his room, on his bed,” Betty calls out to me. Her sad voice is a warning of what I need to be prepared for when I find him. Much like me, Ben has weaseled his way into Betty’s heart.

I nod to her in silent understanding. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Without waiting for her response, I hurry to the large room with twenty beds lining the walls and peek my head through the swinging door. Ben sits on the edge of his bed, hands on his cheeks. I know that expression. It’s his ‘nothing ever goes my way and I’ll always be alone’ face.

“What’s up, Ben?” I elbow him lightly in the side as I sit down. When he looks up, the unshed tears of a young boy who’s simply trying to figure this out well up. He doesn’t say anything.

I reach across him and grab the baseball I gave him when I first came here. No longer pristine with newness, greasy fingerprints show proof of its frequent use. When I stretch out, my feet rest on the bed beside his. Taking special care not to embarrass myself by dropping it on my face, I toss the ball in the air several times. He follows my example and I toss the ball to him and he mimics my motion. I catch it before it makes contact with his nose. I find a comfort in Ben’s presence, a comfort I hope he finds in me as well.

“I feel alone here,” Ben whispers.

“I get that. I’ve been there before.” I shift to face him.

“You were never an orphan,” Ben snaps. He sits straight up, offended by my comparison.

“No, I wasn’t an orphan,” I say, sitting up beside him. “I lived in a house with a man who didn’t love me, except with his fists, and a mother who couldn’t look past herself long enough to see a boy desperate for her protection.”

Ben turns to me with sad eyes. Tears rim his eyelids. “Really? Your dad hit you?”

Usually, I refrain from discussing tough subjects with the kids here, but Ben’s an exception. He’s wise, and has experienced things most kids haven’t.

The floor creaks, and I glance to Kennedy standing outside the door, unnoticed by Ben. Without dropping my eyes from her, I explain my past to a scared younger version of myself. “My dad did a lot more than beat me, kid. He made me believe I was nothing most days.”

“How did you get out of there, then?” Ben’s desire to know he’s not alone in this cruel world is palpable, and I’m more than willing to give him the relief he needs.

“She saved me.” I point at Kennedy leaning against the doorframe, tears swimming in her eyes as she listens to my story once again.

Ben’s eyes shift to the door. “She saved you?” he asked, disbelief written on his face.

“You don’t know this yet, but at some point, someone’s going to come along and make you believe in yourself, kid.”

“She did that for you?”

“That, and other things, like actually saving me from my father, but that’s a story for another day.”

Kennedy walks over to us and sits down on the bed beside us. She leans forward and I follow her, our eyes never dropping from each other.