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“Help,” I repeated. “As in, adopt? Is that why she called us in the first place?”
“She knows my history with Madison and my dad, plus the fact that we’ve been rejected a few times.” He pushed off the island, straightening his back. “All that considered, I guess she thought we’d be a good fit for the boy.”
It was an eerily similar situation to what Manning had been through—and yet completely different. Manning had survived it the best he could’ve because of the family around him willing to help. I shook my head with disdain for the boy’s relatives. “What’d you tell Cheryl?”
“That we’re about to have a baby. That we’d never considered a kid that age. That we . . .” His jaw went taut. “It’s just not the right time.”
I didn’t realize I was rubbing my stomach until I noticed Manning tracking my hand. “Bad timing,” I murmured.
He went silent, staring at nothing on the ground. After a few seconds, he said, “I can’t help but think of my sister.”
Of course he couldn’t help it. It was the first place my mind had gone as well. It hurt him to say no, but how could we help? We were about to have our hands full. Could we even take care of a young boy who’d survived more by nine than most did in a lifetime?
Manning was that boy. He’d also seen, done, and lost more than one person should ever have to—all by the age of fifteen. I got the unsettling feeling that I’d been here before. Helpless to change the situation. Disappointed in people and the system. Scared for a boy’s future.
Only, I wasn’t helpless now. Not like I’d been at sixteen. “He defended his sister,” I said.
“I know. Caseworker said it doesn’t matter. His relatives are treating him like a murderer when he’d had no other choice.”
“Wouldn’t you have done the same? If you’d known what your dad was doing to Maddy?”
His biceps tensed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. I didn’t need to hear his answer. I already knew what it was.
“He killed a grown man, Lake. We’ll have a newborn in the house. Kids who go through trauma at that age can be fucked up.”
“They can also turn out pretty great,” I said with a look.
Manning’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the counter, as if he were restraining himself. He was a protector, and he was also a good man. A champion for the underdog. I had no doubt he wanted to help, even though there were more than enough reasons not to. “I can tell you’ve given this a lot of thought,” I said.
“A lot.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What if my aunt hadn’t been there to help? Or Henry? I would’ve either gone to juvie or a group home, and who knows where I’d be today.”
I nodded. “Fate really has been on our side all along, Manning. Some things can never be explained, like your sister’s death, but we’re lucky.” I placed my hands on my stomach as our son moved. Perhaps he was listening, throwing his opinion into the ring. “And the more we’ve fought, the stronger we’ve become. As individuals, and as a couple.”
Manning came around the island and put his hands next to mine. “He’s moving.”
I nodded. “We have our baby and everything else we could ever ask for. And God knows we asked.”
“Begged,” he said with a faint smile.
I watched his expression closely. Despite the blissful look he wore whenever he felt the baby kick, Manning seemed suddenly tired, too—almost beaten down—for the first time since we’d found out we were pregnant. I supposed this sadness was what he’d been hiding from me on his late-night walks with Vega. Other than fatherhood, I tried to remember the last time Manning had wanted something. The last time he’d even asked me for anything. Besides the house and his business, he rarely did anything for himself.
He glanced up and caught me staring at him. “Lake,” he said.
“What is it, Great Bear?” I asked. “Can’t read your mind. You want something, you have to ask for it.”
“It’s not fair to you.” He spread his fingers on my tummy, brushing the tips of my middle fingers. “The next few months—years—are going to be chaos for us.”
“But?”
“But I can’t help feeling I’m turning my back on this kid, when I understand exactly what he’s going through.”
I waited for Manning to ask. This couldn’t be for me—everything else he did, he did for me. Once the baby was born, Manning would be working overtime for both of us. If he wanted to adopt a nine-year-old boy, he had to say it aloud. He had to need it.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Mateo. Mateo Alvarado.”
“Mateo,” I repeated. I formed a picture of him in my mind, a skinny, dark-haired kid weighed down by a gun. “Have you met him?”
