“Shit. I’m so sorry, Aiden.”
“It’s just, we have a bad history.” He comes around the counter and sits on the stool beside me.
“I know, Aiden.” Even though he’s never directly told me that he was abused, it’s been implied.
“I know he’s going to come for the twins.”
“What? Why?”
He runs his hands through his hair, clearly stressed beyond belief. “He already hates me for being me. Now everything with Ryan, plus he knows I petitioned against having him released on parole. He’s going to come purely because he can, and I can’t do anything to protect them.”
“That’s why you were so mad when the twins opened the door.”
He nods, resting his elbows on the counter and putting his head in his hands.
“Aiden!” I’m interrupted when the twins run into the kitchen, and he sits up st
raight.
“Tyler just got a new dog! Can we go over and play with it?” Jason asks, holding a phone in his hand, Jackson nodding enthusiastically.
“No,” Aiden replies without giving a reason. “Go play in the backyard. Tell Tyler to bring it here if he wants, but you boys stay here.”
“But Aid—”
“No. Outside. Go.” Aiden cuts Jason off with a tone implying that there’s no room for arguing.
The twins’ excitement visibly deflates, and they saunter toward the glass double-sliding door in the kitchen that leads out to the backyard, phone still in hand.
Jason resumes his conversation with Tyler as they walk through the door leading outside. “No, I know you can’t come over but—”
“And make sure the gates are closed!” Aiden calls after them as Jackson closes the door.
He’s stressed, tired, and probably feels like he’s going through this alone. He has no one to help him look after the twins, and now he’s being protective because he refuses to let the twins have the same abusive childhood that he lived through.
“We’re here for you, Aiden. Not just me, but Noah, Mason, Julian, and everyone else. You’re not alone. We’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt them—”
“You don’t understand!” he says louder than he should have, making me automatically flinch, and his expression turns guilty upon seeing this.
“Help me,” I reply calmly.
Aiden sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Greg has legal custody.”
“What? I thought . . .” I trail off, not even knowing what to say to Aiden.
“My mom listed Greg as their guardian until I turn eighteen. If Greg just stayed in jail a couple of weeks longer, I’d have full custody.”
My eyebrows draw together, trying to figure out all the facts before we attempt to come up with solutions. “Who technically has custody of them now, since Greg’s in jail?”
“Since I’m not eighteen, Greg still has legal custody. He can give physical custody to a third party, which he gave to his ex-wife. Clearly, since the boys are living with me, it wasn’t enforced, and Paula has no desire to support two boys who have nothing to do with her.”
So the twins are supposed to be living with Ryan’s mom since Aiden isn’t eighteen yet. Technically, Greg has custody of Aiden, too, since he’s still seventeen and a minor in the eyes of the state.
“Okay, you turn eighteen in January. We can just keep the twins away from him for those couple of weeks. I doubt he’ll try to go the legal route, and even if he did, it takes a while for those requests to process. There would be no point. We can work through this, Aiden. He’s not going anywhere near the boys.”
As much as I’m concerned about Aiden, the bigger part of me just feels guilty. A huge, urgent, burning sense of guilt is eating me from the inside out. Here I am saying we’re here for him, while simultaneously knowing I’m never going to see him again in a few weeks.
“It’s just—” he starts, and I give him an encouraging look to continue. “Nothing’s really stopping him from getting back on drugs. I wouldn’t put it past him to use junkie logic and convince himself that the twins are rightfully his and to take them.”