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His offer makes me smile for a brief moment—something I haven’t done in what seems like weeks.
* * *
The lossof Gloria hits Trey the hardest when we arrive home.
He plucks a picture of her from the fridge, sets it down on the table next to the pizza we picked up, and stares at it, tears resurfacing. “I wouldn’t even dress up as a stupid scarecrow for her!” he says through sobs. “That’s all she wanted—for her big brother to go trick-or-treating with her—and I let her down because I was being a stupid hard-ass.” He ducks his head down in humiliation … anger … sadness. “God, what I’d do to have her back. I’d dress up as a scarecrow every day of my life. I’d do anything—anything—for her to be next to me right now.”
I get up from my chair, stand behind him, and wrap my arms around his shoulders.
I don’t know how long we cry and stare at her.
When Trey goes to bed, the pizza untouched, I tread into my bedroom.
Reality sinks through, drowning me like an anchor, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to reach the surface again. I slide down the wall, raise my knees, and slack forward. I want to break down in tears but scream out in anger. Every emotion for every shitty thing in my life is finally pouring out of me like an overflowing stream.
A knock on the door breaks me away from my thoughts, and I sniffle, wiping my nose with my arm. The door opens, and I hear someone walk in. I shut my eyes and release a breath at his scent.
“Trey let me in,” Kyle whispers into the darkness of my bedroom. I vaguely see his hand held out to me. “Come here.”
I shake my head. “I need to get this out.”
He nods, but instead of leaving, he slides down the wall and sits next to me. “Then, get it out.”
He doesn’t talk or touch me again. He sits there, assuring me I’m not alone, until I fall asleep.
When I wake up, he’s gone.
30
Chloe
Gloria’s funeral was two days ago.
I’ve kept to myself, and Trey has done the same—playing video games and Netflix-bingeing. My phone keeps alerting me with reminders to call the social worker regarding Trey, but when I pick up the phone to do it, I can’t. I’m scared. The fear of what she’ll tell me knocks back my energy into making the call. I’m biding my time until they come knocking on the door, and I’ll ready to fight like hell when they do.
My shoulders tense when I hear the doorbell ring, and my legs feel weak when I walk to the door. I question myself on answering when I look through the peephole, and worry seeps through me when I answer.
Nancy Lane is standing in front of me.
My breath catches in my throat while I wait for her to speak. I’m at a loss for words.
“Hi, Chloe,” she bursts out in a sweet tone. “Can we talk?”
I blink, and it takes me a moment to reply. “Sure.”
This is it.
This is where she tells Trey to pack his bags and leave me.
I lead her into my living room, and neither one of us is relaxed when we sit on the couch.
She cuts straight to the point. “I’m aware Claudia informed you that Michael and I felt it was in Trey’s best interest if we raised him.”
I grimace and ball my knuckles. “She did, and I respectively disagree.” I’m biting back the angry words I want to scream at her.
“It seems you’re not the only one.”
Her response surprises me.
