Page 12 of Coast

Kiyaya continued to sit in the passenger seat with his arms crossed and made no move to exit the vehicle. If the old man thought he could wait me out, he was in for a lesson. I had enough the day before and told him he was going to the clinic if I had to drag him. The only one amused by my great grandfather’s ranting had been Suni. Then again, if I’d known I was going to get to leave and not have to deal with him, I might have laughed, too.

Instead, I spent the day fixing small things around his place; a leaky faucet, a clogged drain, and a few loose floorboards on the porches. I’d even chopped more wood and stacked it. Hell, I would have chopped more to stay outside, so I didn’t have to listen to him gripe. As it was, there was enough wood until I made another trip back, which would be as soon as I could get the new windows and roofing supplies ordered and delivered to me. I would need a couple of my brothers to come along to help with installation because the work was not a one-man job.

Leaning my butt against the hood, I bent one leg and propped my boot on the bumper and crossed my arms. Minutes ticked by, and several people entered and exited the clinic. I pulled my cell out and thumbed through my messages, and while I waited, I texted my dad, who texted back the laughing emojis when I’d texted him what I was doing.

Finally, I heard the creak of the old truck’s door, and when it shut, on a slam no less, I pushed off the front and stood on the sidewalk.

“Let’s get it over with. I got things to do,” Kiyaya said as he passed by me.

“The only thing you’ll be doing is taking what medicines they prescribe and then resting.” I reached in front of him and pulled the door open.

“I like it better when you only come two times a year,” he mumbled as he walked in ahead of me.

I shook my head. “Go find a seat, and I’ll check you in. If I’m lucky, they’ll give you a shot in your ass with a really big needle.”

Kiyaya chuckled as he walked off, and I grinned as I reached the counter. After signing him in, I joined him in the seating area, taking a seat between him and a kid.

“I don’t know why we have to be here,” the kid next to me said to the woman on the other side of him, filling out paperwork.

“See, even the boy don’t want to be here,” Kiyaya said, and I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. It was hard to believe that less than forty-eight hours ago, I was holding Mac in my arms and working on getting her into my bed. Now, I sat with a crotchety old man, trying to get him to see a doctor.

“You know why we are here, Tracker. You and Paxton need to be checked out before we can place you with a foster family.” I opened my eyes and looked over at the woman and noticed a younger boy sitting in the chair on the other side of her.

“Yeah, because you made us come.”

Kiyaya snickered, and I cut my eyes to him. He shrugged. When I turned my head back, the woman was glaring at me, and the two boys were staring.

“You’ll have to excuse him.” I pointed with my thumb in Kiyaya’s direction. “He isn’t feeling well.” Christ, I was apologizing for a man pushing ninety. It was time I reevaluated my life.

“We’re here ‘cause our mom died,” the younger boy said.

“Sorry for your loss,” I said as an automatic response to hearing of someone’s death.

“Why, you didn’t know her?” The kid the woman called Tracker said, and the woman sighed.

“Tracker, that’s enough,” she said and looked at me apologetically.

“No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry you and your brother lost your mother. It’s called compassion.”

“We lost her ‘cause drugs were more important to her than us,” Tracker said point blank while he looked directly in my eyes.

“Tracker—” the woman, who I assumed was a social worker, went to speak, and I gave a small shake of my head to cut her off.

I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to talk with the kid. It could have been the look of defeat I saw in his eyes that he tried to cover up with attitude. Or hell, it could have been because I saw a little of myself in him. A glance at what I could have faced if my dad hadn’t fought for me.

“Yeah, that sucks. But you can let her faults keep affecting you, or you can learn from her mistakes and want more out of life for you and your brother. Understand?”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got to live with strangers who only see you as a monthly check.”

Damn, the kid was tough. “I could have been you, kid. But you’re right, I didn’t have to live with strangers because I had my dad. Your attitude isn’t going to help you, though. Is it?” Tracker didn’t respond, he just stared at me. I lifted my chin in his brother’s direction. “He’s going to follow your lead. You can either make the adjustment easier for him or harder for both of you. Life’s not fair, and you’ve learned that at an early age already, right?”

“I guess.” Tracker broke eye contact and looked down at his lap and sighed as if in acceptance to the situation.

The sound grated on my nerves. I hated it. Who knew what the two boys had already been through and witnessed if their mom had been a drug addict?

I had a strong need to try to change the mood surrounding the kid. If only a temporary break from his worry. “How old are you, Tracker? Fifteen? Sixteen?” He lifted his head, and I winked.

“Twelve and Paxton is seven.”

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