The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(88)

“What does that even mean?”

“When he turns eighteen, the state will no longer assume responsibility for his care.”

What the hell. This seems incredibly messed up. Now, he’s facing the one situation he wanted to avoid—having to deal with a strange family. After taking care of his mom and managing his own life, he’ll have to follow their rules. I hate that it’s worked out this way; it seems so unfair. He deserves better.

“Where is he?” I demand.

“He’s with a family two hours away.”

Two hours by car, roughly 120 miles. There’s just no way I can bike to see him. I’m still recovering from the trip I took to see his dad. I curl my hand into a fist, taking comfort in how my nails bite into my palms because I’m sad and angry at the same time. But for Shane? For a happy reunion? Okay. Maybe I can ask Aunt Gabby to drive me. I still don’t approve of gas-guzzling vehicles, but Shane’s worth an exception.

“Do you have his address?”

Aunt Gabby shakes her head. “The social worker wouldn’t tell me since I’m not family.”

“Did they give his phone back when they released him from juvie?”

“I imagine so.”


Then why hasn’t he called me? How long has he been out? But maybe his battery’s dead—he probably didn’t have a charger with him—or he might be out of minutes, since it was a prepaid phone. With some effort, I calm down. Honestly, I can’t wait to get to my room, so I can try texting him. If he doesn’t reply, it might not mean anything bad.

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “It means a lot to me that you’ve been calling around.”

“No problem. I like Shane, too. And I don’t want you running off again.”

A wry laugh escapes me. “I won’t. My thighs were sore for a week.”

“You had it coming.”

“I know. I’ll be in my room until dinner, okay?”

“Sure, honey.”

Once I get in there, I shut the door behind me and lean on it for a few seconds, eyes closed. I wish I’d memorized every moment with him, so they’d be sharp as crystal instead of dream-fogged. Lonely, I pull out my phone and type: You there?

No reply.

I fling myself on my bed and lie there on my face. Ten minutes later, my phone vibrates. I snatch it up and swipe the screen to unlock it. I don’t recognize the number, but the message clues me in. This is Cassie. I know it’s short notice, but I wondered if you had time for coffee.

I text back, sure. OMW. It’s better than sitting here, worrying about Shane. So I put my shoes on and call to my aunt, “I’m meeting a friend at the Coffee Shop. Is that all right?”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Cassie.”

She brightens at hearing a new name. “Okay. Be home before dark.”

The days are a little longer as we roll toward spring, so I think I can manage. After putting on a jacket, I get my bike out of the shed and head into town. Cassie’s already waiting when I arrive, but she stands up when she sees me. For a minute I think she’s going to hug me like we’re old friends instead two girls who were briefly infatuated with Ryan McKenna. He’d die if he saw us together.

“You look like you’ve lost weight,” she says.

Do I? I have no idea. But I guess riding your bike a hundred miles in the cold burns a lot of calories. I decide to pretend it’s a compliment. “Thanks. You look good, too.”

She’s got some highlights and new glasses, and she’s wearing jeans and a cute sparkly top instead of her work uniform. “I got a coffee already. Hope you don’t mind, but I could use an actual caffeine transfusion.”

“Still working both jobs?”

“Yeah. I don’t see an end to that for another two years.”

“I admire your dedication.”

She shrugs. “If you want something bad enough, you do what it takes to make it happen.”

Her words take root inside me as I’m standing in line for my chai latte, but the problem is, I don’t know what more I can do for Shane. I can’t magically emancipate him or roll time forward so that he turns eighteen faster. What else can I do?

“You look thoughtful,” Cassie says as I sit down across from her.

I don’t know what comes over me then, but I dump the whole story in her lap. Her eyes widen as I unburden myself. Finally, I pause to draw breath and she holds up a hand. “So what’s your ultimate goal here?”

“To bring Shane home.”

“And you can only achieve that through emancipation or his father’s cooperation, correct?”

“Sounds about right.”

“So go after Cavendish again. I’m not suggesting you ride out to visit him,” she adds hastily. “But call him. Call him every damned day until he can’t take anymore. Pressure him into doing the right thing.”

“You think that would work?”

Cassie shrugs. “It can’t hurt. Isn’t it better than sitting around for four months?”

“Yeah.”

“This isn’t how I imagined this conversation would go,” she admits, taking a sip of her coffee. She drinks it black, no cream or sugar to dilute the caffeine.

“What did you picture?”