Page 159 of A Million To Fall

It feels like something I might actually get to choose.

forty-five

Boston

I’m halfway to AJ’s when I realize I’ve been driving on autopilot, my mind nowhere near the road.

My hand tightens on the steering wheel as I drag my tongue over my bottom lip, as if I could chase the memory of Skye’s mouth on mine.

It’s been days, but none of it’s faded.

Not her. Not us. Not the way she said she loved me.

I exhale, shaking my head like that might clear her from my thoughts.

My phone buzzes in its holder mounted to my dash, snapping me back to the now.

I recognize the number immediately. Sasha Stanton. The attorney helping me with the custody process. I met her a couple of days ago and have spoken to her several times since then. I can’t even begin to express how relieved I am to have someone on my side through this. Because, well, it’s complicated.

“Hey, Sasha,” I answer the phone. “It’s Saturday. Don’t you ever take a day off?”

She laughs on the other end. “Do you?”

“Fair point.”

“Do you have a moment or should I call back?”

“Now’s perfect. I’m driving, but you’re on speaker.”

She laughs again. “Okay, so I informed Social Services that you’re available to take custody of your siblings while we move through the guardianship process.”

My heart skips. I already know it won’t happen overnight, but just hearing it said out loud…

“They’ll be scheduling you for a kinship home study soon,” she continues. “They’ll check out your place, interview you, the usual. Once that’s done, we’ll file for a placement change. If all goes smoothly, Cassie and Bronx should be with you by Christmas.”

“That sounds great,” I say, still incredulous at how within my grasp it suddenly feels.

Obviously, I wish I could pick them up now, but there are still things I have to figure out. I spent this last week trying to get my ducks lined up—looking up what it takes for me to get my GED, figuring out who's going to watch Cassie and Bronx on those inevitable times when Mrs. Davis comes calling, and hopefully transitioning away from my multitude of minimum wage jobs to one full-time position working for Skye’s mom. With benefits, to boot. That’s the kind of thing I never let myself imagine.

Until now.

“Is there anything I need to do in the meantime?” I ask.

“Nothing other than keep your nose clean,” she says with a laugh.

I cringe. I haven’t forgotten about those fucking pictures Mrs. Davis snapped during her “girls’ nights” and the kind of damage she could do if she wished.

“I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear back from Social Services with a date for the home study,” Sasha adds.

Before I can respond, my phone lights up with another incoming call, one that makes me stupidly happy.

Skye.

“I really appreciate that, Sasha.”

“Absolutely. You have a good rest of your evening.”

“You, too. Bye.”