'Ms Kaylee Bell and Mr Zachary Knight are to be appointed legal guardianship of Scott Knight if something would ever happen to the parents, Jenna and Patrick Knight.'
They say everything can change in the blink of an eye.
It did for me.
Yesterday...
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"Mom, Scott has already had his breakfast but he tends to want—"
Mom grabs my shoulders and smiles at me. "Kaylee, sweetheart', calm down. I know how to take care of a child; I am a mother after all."
I sigh and try to relax before walking over to Scott, kissing him on the head. I walk down the hall, grab my bag and phone, and head out. I unlock my car and climb in.
When I get to campus, I park and get out. I grab a coffee at the stand before heading towards the main building. I make my way to the auditorium and take a seat at the back. The class flies by, and when the professor leaves, everyone stands up and follows suit. As I'm packing my stuff, a hand squeezes my shoulder, and I jump in fright.
"Kaylee, hi."
It's Gale Thompson.
We went to high school together, and I'd been annoyed when I found out he was studying Music Arts too. On the first day of our senior year of high school, he asked me out, but I said no, and since then, he hadn't left me alone.
"I heard about your sister. I'm so sorry," he sighs and looks at the ceiling before his eyes return to mine, and he smiles. "I'm here if you want me, or need me...in any way."
I glare at him, "Back off, Thompson." I grab my bag and walk down the steps, heading out. When I climb into my car, my phone buzzes. I grab it from my bag and read Mom's message.
Momma: I took Scott back to your apartment. He's been crying for his Spider-Man toy. Could you get it?
I bite my lip as I drive through Jenna and Patrick's neighbourhood. Parking in the driveway, I take a deep breath before getting out. With shaky hands, I pull out my keys and unlock the door.
Just go in.
Grab the toy.
Get out.
Easy.
I head straight to the stairs, run upstairs into Scott's old bedroom, and see the toy by the window. Grabbing it, I close the bedroom door and hurry back to the stairs, but stop in my tracks when I hear a noise from one of the bedrooms. I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and move toward the room. I push the door open and gasp. Zach is sitting on the bed, his head down, hugging an object to his chest.
"Zach," I step into the room. His head rises slowly, his glassy eyes meeting mine.
"What are you doing here?" he spits and I step back at his harsh tone. His eyes are cold as he stares at me.
"I...Scott wanted his toy..." I squeeze the toy in my hand as a tear runs down his face. He wipes it away aggressively and stands up. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair is a mess. My eyes travel around his form before I look at his face and notice his bloodshot eyes and exhausted look.
"This never happened, if—"
I cut him off, "Zach, it's okay. It's okay to cry."
"This never happened," he repeats in a hard voice, leaving no space for any argument.
He pushes past me and walks out the door, slamming the front door shut a second later. I sigh and walk downstairs, locking the door before getting into my car with Scott's toy.
***
I look out of the kitchen window as the rain pours down heavily. Mom had left an hour ago when Scott fell asleep. Zach hadn't come home yet, and he hadn't texted or called to let me know if he would be staying out all night.
I sip my green tea, sighing as the warm liquid flows down my throat and hear the front door open and shut. I glance over my shoulder at the footsteps approaching. Zach is soaked from head to toe when he rounds the corner.
"You're awake," he states in a flat tone.
Obviously.
"Yeah," I say, noticing him swaying slightly.
The man is drunk.
Just great.
"W-where's Scott?" he hiccups as he moves closer, leaning his arms on the counter.
"Sleeping," I tell him, finishing my tea before I walk to the sink and clean my cup.
When I'm done, I wipe my hands dry and move out of the kitchen when Zach grabs my wrist, pulling me into his chest. Our chests touch, and his fingers move around my wrist.
His eyes roam over my face, from eye to eye, down the bridge of my nose, to my cheeks, and then to my mouth. When his eyes meet mine again, he leans in an inch.
"You're beautiful," he gives me a lopsided grin, "and I am drunk," he states like a child before backing up, letting go of my wrist, and stumbling out of the kitchen.
