Finding Home

Chapter 9

The entire day today, which is Saturday, I am spending it t the park with with my sketchbook, which is a two-minute walk from the McCoy's house. It's a beautifully sunny day today, and the temperature is in the lower 70s, but I'm wearing dark blue skinny jeans with slashes in the knees and on just under the back pockets, and a long sleeve black shirt. West is with me, along with two of his friends, Ryder and Shawn, and they are skateboarding. 

"What are you sketching?" a male voice asks, that sounds vagley familar, from my lef side, causing me to jump from my seat at a picnic table near the three boys. 

Bringing my gaze to my side, I find myself starring open-mouthed at Troye, the officer who works with Sawyer that I met when Sawyer and Officer Grumpy found me sleeping in an alleyway. 

"Hi Tryoe, I, um, I'm sketching my brother and his friends skateboarding," I murmur with flushed cheeks. 

"That's awesome by the way, which one is your brother?" he comments looking at the sketch before looking at the boys, while sitting down next to me with a grin. 

Gesturing toward West, who is on a pipe trying to slide down without falling on his ass; "That's West."

"He looks like you. I was happy when Sawyer told us you had contact with him again," Troye grins, his bright blue eyes twinkling in delight. 

"I don't see it, but thanks," I grin with a flush of my cheeks. "He sadly looks like our dad, and I look like our mum."

"Have you talked with Sawyer lately?" he asks as we watch the boys. 

"Not in a while, and I've given up trying to contact him," I mumble, and I can feel his gaze boring into the side of my face. 

"Oh, well that's strange, and I can't help but wonder why?" he replies, and I can tell he honestly thought we had been in constant contact. 

"It's not a big deal," I shrug. "I'm used to people pulling out of my life, even if they have promised not too."

"I'm sure that's not true," he tries to argue, but I get the feeling he doesn't truly belive himself. "You're a wonderful guy, and anyone who leaves your life isn't worth your time."

"Still hurts though when it happens, and I'm not wonderful," I mumble with a pout at him.

"I imagine it does, but I still think you're wonderful," he grins at me, causing my jaw to drop in surprise. 

"You really don't know me, though," I mumble with my cheeks flushing a dark crimson at his words, and intense starring.

"I'd like to know you better, if you would let me," he quickly returns with a bright smile.

I swear my jaw is now scrapping the ground now; "You do know I'm only 17-years-old, right?" 

"I know. You're legal as long as I behave, and your foster parents don't mind," he grins back. "Besides, I'm a cop, and I'm one of safest people for you to be with."

"How old are you?" I ask, needing this piece of information before answering his question. 

"I'm 24-years-old, as my birthday is February 10th, so I'm only seven years older than you. We can take our relationship at whatever pace you set," he sincerley tells me. 

Nodding my head at him, I grin as I say; "I would like to know you better, go on dates, and stuff like that. I have never had a boyfriend before, and I need to tell River and Nathan sooner rather than later."

Troye smirks at me, while leaning over to gently kiss my cheek; "Thank you, Wyatt."

The corners of my lips lift upwards in a smirk, and I find myself hoping that this works between us; "You're welcome, but I should be thanking you."