Page 6 of Tanner

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Two

Tanner Fernsby stood by the curtainless window, staring at the traffic below. He shivered when a breeze moved over his skin and glanced over his shoulder to check on Savannah, his sister, seeing she was still sleeping. Sighing softly, he looked back outside.

Cars crawled through the junction, brake lights blinking, horns blaring. Someone shouted from the sidewalk. Someone else laughed. The city kept moving, even when you felt stuck in place like Tanner did.

Tanner closed his eyes, his mind drifting over the past three years and all he’d done. The choices he’d made. Stealing food and clothes because he’d had no money. He could reconcile with that. He did struggle when it came to the time he was a drug runner, but he’d needed the money and it had been better than the alternative. Prostitution. Yes, he’d done that a handful of times and every time he’d felt dirty and degraded, but Savannah needed food and he wasn’t going to fail her.

Opening his eyes, Tanner placed a hand on the glass, feeling the cold seep into his skin. “CPS,” he whispered.

They’d come to the house two days after their parents’ funeral. Tanner remembered the knock on the door and how loud it had seemed in the quiet house. He’d wiped his hands on his jeans, picked up Savannah before opening the door, trying to look older than sixteen. Savannah had been fussing, her tiny hands clenched into fists.

The woman had smiled when she spoke. The man with her had held a folder and took down notes. They’d talked about support and the next steps available. About what was best for Savannah as a newborn. Tanner had stood there and nodded, because arguing felt wrong and strangely dangerous. He couldn’t name why he felt that way until they’d said it—placement. Temporary. Different homes until things were decided.

Tanner hadn’t heard much after that. All he’d seen was Savannah in someone else’s arms. Savannah growing up and not knowing who he was. Tanner potentially being kept from her with some excuse about her being settled.

When they’d left, he’d locked the door and slid down the wall with Savannah held close. He’d waited until she fell asleep and then he’d packed.

Now he looked around the one room apartment. Mold crept along the corners and climbed the wall behind the window. The mattress sat on the floor because he couldn’t afford a frame. Clothes were piled on plastic bags to keep them off the floor. It wasn’t tidy, but it was dry enough and some nights that was all that mattered.

It was still better than the streets. Better than Savannah curled up under a bridge with his arm around her, listening for footsteps. Better than trying to keep her quiet when men passed too close and didn’t bother hiding the way they looked at them. Looked at her. Better than shelters where he couldn’t sleep because he didn’t trust anyone.

This place was small and it smelled, but he could lock the door. He could put Savannah down and know she wouldn’t wake up to strangers watching her. He could leave her for a couple of minutes to use the bathroom without panicking and rushing back to make sure she was still safe. He couldn’t keep doing it, though. Not like this.

He was nineteen now. An adult. That meant CPS couldn’t walk in and take her because he was young and broke and didn’t have the right paperwork. They couldn’t split them up the way they’d tried before.