Page 3 of Rayne

After work, I make my way to my parents' house, keeping my face neutral at all times while I avoid discussing my plans for the next day.

My parents are both retired now. My father was an attorney while my mother was a teacher. They somehow managed to save while fostering children and both retired early. Spending their time traveling, we catch up for dinner once a week when they aren't abroad or visiting our family on the other side of the country.

"So, tell us about this charity event," Mom asks warmly, her red hair very similar to mine.

I tense up, poking my broccoli with my fork. "It's a fundraiser," I tell them broadly. "At a high end… organization."

"I'm really happy organizations are still doing charity work for foster care," Dad interjects. "They need more support."

I nod in agreement. "Definitely. So, off to Florida next week," I say, changing the subject.

"It's meant to be stifling weather," Mom laughs. "Much warmer than here."

"I find that hard to believe," I smile.

Phoenix, Arizona is a warm place, that's for sure. Lately, the weather has been hot, hitting 86 degrees during the day. I've done my best to hide away from the sun. Being a redhead, the sun can be unforgiving to my pale skin, but I have to admit, it's better than cold weather.

"I wish you would come with us," Dad says. "You work too much."

Rolling my eyes, I give him a playful scolding look. "And who did I inherit that trait from?"

He feigns looking shocked, but we all know I work just as much as he did. If anyone understands how treacherous legal work is, it's Dad. Vacation time is rare and the hours can be long. But secretly I love it and wouldn't change my career for anything.

"Maybe next time," Mom answers. "We should go to Disney World when things settle."

"That sounds fun," I smile.

Dad nods, his brown hair slicked back. He always looks kept together, even just for dinner. His hazel eyes scan my face, a small frown appearing. "Are you sure you are okay? You seem a little off today."

"I'm fine," I assure him. "Just tired."

They don't push it, accepting my answer. I spot Mom staring at the photos on the fireplace mantle, her face deep in thought.

"Maybe we can plan a family vacation towards the end of the year. We could see if your brothers want to come."

I snort, not even bothering to hide my disdain. "They won't."

Mom's lips purse together. "They might. You never know."

Carefully, I place down my fork and fold my hands together, like I'm about to give bad news to a client who isn't ready to accept the truth.

"Mom," I start. "You know they won't. I don't think they are coming back. They are too busy with their own lives now."

An awkward silence falls over the dinner table and I feel guilty, but sadly, it's the truth.

Of all the children who passed through these doors, a loving family ready with open arms, only two were able to stay. And you'd think that every child just wants a safe and loving home… but not them.

For years, my foster brothers made my life a living hell. I never voiced it to my parents because I didn't want to take away from the fact they do amazing things. They are the most selfless people I know, and that deserves to be acknowledged. But living with Hawk and Jett was rougher than sandpaper.

I was thirteen when they first landed on my doorstep with a social worker. Hawk, the older of the two, was a year older than me while his younger brother, Jett was my age. I was so excited to have company, but they quickly proved themselves to be psychopaths. To my parents, they were sweet angels—their charm fooling everyone. But I saw them for who they really were.

They tormented me, stole my belongings, played pranks… even locked me out of the house during a storm. I'd stay up all night finishing papers just to have Hawk delete them.

But that was just their daily routine. All of that sounds tame compared to other tricks they had up their sleeves for special occasions.

I've never been fond of the dark, but one night we were home alone on Halloween. There was a blackout, and they chased me through the house dressed as Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees—weapons and all.

I hated them.

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