Chapter 3
That night, I took Thomas home with me.
Nick refused to come.
He stood outside the restaurant under the awning, clutching a takeout bag with both hands.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know places.”
I hated that sentence.
Children should know bedtime routines.
Favorite cereals.
Which blanket is softest.
Not places.
I called the number Officer Ramirez gave me for emergency youth services.
Nick panicked when he heard.
“No foster home.”
His voice cracked.
“No more.”
Thomas grabbed my sleeve.
“Mom, please don’t make him go back.”
I knelt in front of Nick.
“Did someone hurt you there?”
He looked away.
That was enough.
I told the social worker he needed an advocate before any placement.
I used the voice I normally saved for suppliers who tried to overcharge me.
Polite.
Sharp.
Unmovable.
By midnight, Nick was placed in a temporary youth shelter with a child advocate named Renee assigned to him.
He only agreed because Thomas promised to visit.
At home, Thomas would not go upstairs alone.
So we sat on the living room floor.
He held a blanket around his shoulders.
I made hot chocolate neither of us drank.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
His eyes filled instantly.
“I tried.”
The answer cut me.
“When?”
“When Dad said I was acting weird. When I asked if you loved the restaurant more than home. When I said my stomach hurt every Sunday.”
I covered my mouth.
I had heard every warning.
I had renamed them stress.
Growth.
Moodiness.
Daniel’s explanations.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Thomas started crying.
“He said you would choose him.”
I pulled him into my arms.
“I chose wrong by believing him. But I am choosing you now.”
He clung to me like he was younger than twelve.
That night, he slept on the couch with his head in my lap.
I stayed awake until sunrise.
May you like
Not because I was afraid Daniel would come home.
Because I was afraid of how long he had already been there.
