something and just wanted a completely new life, so she picked a new name. I don’t think I’ll ever
know anything more about her.”
“What happened to you? After the foster home? How did you end up with Ransom?”
“We bounced around a lot. Jonas…was a challenge that not a lot of foster parents were prepared
for. My mom and dad were amazing. They had nothing…nothing, but they did so much for him. When
they died, he kind of…disappeared inside himself for a while. He refused to communicate with most
of the foster parents. It just was a lot for most families to take on. So we’d end up moving. I learned
to run interference. If I charmed the adults, they’d usually let us stay longer. But things kind of blew up
one day, and we got sent to the group home.”
“What happened? How did it blow up?”
My lips twitch, remembering that day. “It literally blew up. Jonas was researching the war or
something…you’ll have to ask him, and he ended up blowing up our foster parents’ garage. He was
still little enough that he didn’t get in trouble, and his eyebrows grew back. He looked so fucking
funny,” I say, laughing. “But we got kicked out that night. Ended up at the group home, which in the
end, was a blessing.”
“What was it like there?”
“It was one step down from a jail. There were guards, only they didn’t call them that. We all slept
in these big open rooms lined with steel bunk beds. But I figured out who the players were and made
friends, and we were mostly left alone. We were there for nearly a year when Ransom showed up.
Everything changed the day he asked us to join his family. I don’t think I realized at the time he meant
actual family. I had it in my head that it was going to be more like the mob.”
She laughs and turns, putting her back against the door. “Ransom seems to care about you all very
deeply.”
“Yeah, he does. He took on the parental role for a lot of us. And in the end, it all turned out.”
“Yeah, I suppose it did. You don’t…wish things were different?”
She does. I can see it in her eyes, the wishing she’d had something better. “I used to. All the time,
actually. I used to imagine who we might have been if they hadn’t died. But that can be…hard, living
in the what-ifs. So I try not to let myself go back there anymore.” Her eyes drift away over my
shoulder as she nods. “You seem…off today. Everything ok?” I ask.
She hums and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Just a busy brain.”
