Carry On Dreaming (The Cowboy's Promise sequel) (SLOW UPDATES)

Chapter 7

Blaze's P.O.V.

I stare around the office nervously, looking over my shoulder for Red. The secretary, a pretty young blonde with her hair in a bun, smiles up at me from her desk. One student is at another desk doing paperwork, another speaking to a severe-looking woman in a maroon skirt suit. The student doing paperwork pushes his glasses up his nose and smiles briefly at me.

"Can I help you, sir?" the secretary asks.

Shit. Red, get your ass in here, I think nervously. I do not like talking to people. At all. Like, it terrifies me. Talking to Red as much as I do is a rarity for me. The last person I talked that much to was Micheal, the soldier.

Thankfully, Red walks in just in time. Blondie was about to repeat her question. "Sorry, Blaze, I got caught up. Janie, this is Blaze Dodge, my adopted son. I think he's starting today?"

Janie. Nice name. It really suits her. When I realize she's speaking to me, I shake my head and try to focus.

"-And this is your schedule. Ask him any question you have, and you should be fine. Got it?"

I nod. Janie asks Brit, the guy doing paperwork, to page Sabian to the office. Thank God. I might actually have a friend at the end of the day.

"Well, Blaze, gotta go. I'll pick you up at the end of the day, okay?" Red says.

I shake my head. "Don't leave me. Please."

"Sorry, Blaze. It's the law. You'll be fine. Bye." He wraps me in a one-armed hug and kisses my hair on his way out.

I whisper goodbye and follow Sabian out of the office. He shows me where each of my classes are, and I try to commit them to memory. Once we find all my classes, we enter fourth period. Sabian whispers something to my teacher, a thirty-something suburb dad, and hands him a note. The teacher reads it and nods. He puts down his textbook and expo marker to introduce me. I set down the bag my new family gave me and watch the class.

"Class, this is Blaze Dodge. He's from Grand Junction and is fifteen. And he's- You mind if I explain this to them?" He looks at me expectantly.

I shake my head. He gives a quick smile and explains my. . . . dilemma. I'm not sure what to call it. It's not a condition. It's not a disease. It's a challenge, I guess. Mr. Gaines allows me to sit down after assigning a book. The only seat left just has to be next to the prettiest girl in the class. Just my luck.

€*€

"So, how's classes going?" Sabian asks.

I shrug and bite into my pizza. It's lunch now. The cafeteria is sparse, given that most students eat lunch on the campus grass and benches. Sabian tucks his pen behind his ear and shuts his chemistry binder, facing me. I feel myself scoot over an inch or two, even though he hasn't moved. He doesn't question it, which I'm glad for.

"You don't have to talk. Not if you don't want to. I know what you're going through. My best friend had the same thing in fourth grade. Stay silent if you want, just know I'm here to listen. I know you need to feel safe to talk, and I'll tell you you're totally safe with me," he tells me, his voice going softer with each word.

It was a long-winded speech, one he was clearly uncomfortable making. But he did it for me. I give him a small smile. We're alone in our little corner. His jock friends are in the cafeteria. And not talking isn't exactly the best way to make friends. Just FYI. I show him gratefulness the only way I know how: affection. I slide over and rest my head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Smiling, he slings an arm around my shoulder. "No problem. Let's go meet some of my friends, shall we?"

€*€

RED'S P.O.V.

"Ugh," Blaze groans, sliding into my truck after school.

"That bad?" I chuckle. He only looks at me. I put the truck in gear and drive to the house, both of us jamming to the radio. When we reach the house, I see Elliot working his colt in the pen, Faith sitting on the fence. Andrew is nowhere to be found.

Blaze closes his eyes and sighs, and I can almost see his front come over him. The one that keeps him from talking to other people. He takes his bag and my keys inside while I join my siblings at the corral. Elliot is calm and composed as he lunges Corporal. The colt is a pretty red quarter mix. His sire was Winter Blues, our gypsy/quarter horse stud, but his dam was a mix of everything. He's Elliot's project for now.

"How's he coming, Baby Bro?" I call.

"Excellent. Except he's a little-" His sentence breaks off when the screen door slams, causing the colt to bolt. Elliot takes a moment to calm him down before they continue. "Skittish."

"I see that. Might be a good thing to work on."

"Yep. Red, think your son wants you," Faith says.

I turn to see Blaze coming up to me. His cheeks are bright red, telling me he knows he spooked Corporal. He shows me text inviting him to a party this Saturday. Included is the address.

"Damn, Blaze. How did you get invited to a party already? You don't even talk to anybody."

He points to the name on the screen. It's Sabian's party, held at his cousin's house. I agree to take him. He walks back in the house, and I follow him after a minute.

"Hey, you wanna come downstairs with me?" I ask Blaze. He nods, and we walk to the basement. I take a seat on a beanbag while he kneels on the floor. I reach over for my black acoustic guitar and play a few chords.

"I got a call today," I begin.

"Obviously it was important, because I hear that phone ring off the hook and usually don't hear you mention them. So what's up?" Blaze asks me.

"It was a social worker. The one assigned your case- Rebeccah Something?"

"Rebeccah Speed," he answered.

"Yeah. Anyway, she said that your aunt is back fighting for custody of you. Your uncle, thank God, is still serving his prison term. But your aunt's view on the subject is that, as your closest living relative, she should have custody of you. Technically, she wasn't convinced of abuse."

"Didn't mean she didn't take part," Blaze snorts. He pulls off his shirt and points out a burn scar on his left side. "She did this with an iron. Butch sat at the table, drinking a beer and laughing."

"I'm gonna try my best to keep you hear. But at the end of the day, it's all up to the judge."

He sits back and stares at his shoes. With a few simple statements, the mood of the room has darkened. I look around the basement, pausing on an old portrait we had taken years ago. Blake was supposed to be taking a serious picture, but the second the picture was taken, I jumped on his back. He was 22, meaning I was 17. We did stuff like that all the time. And I miss it so bad.