Chapter 10
Coming Back
When Colin returned to the main room, Kyle was explaining sleeping arrangements.
“All right,” Kyle said, clapping his hands together. “So. About tonight. I’ve got sleeping bags in the storage closet if you need them. Plus, there’s a couch in my office that you’re welcome to use. Fair warning: the floor is concrete under that carpet.”
“Sounds like paradise,” Trent said, from where he’d been leaning against the wall.
“It’s an adventure,” Kyle replied, grinning. “Come on. Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping. And by sleeping, I mean lying awake, wondering why on earth you volunteered to do this.”
By ten thirty that night, they had taken a trip to a nearby diner for dinner, Sharon and Paul had left for their motel, and the community center had transformed into a campsite.
Sleeping bags were spread around the main room in haphazard rows.
Trent had claimed a spot nearest the door and was already stretched out with his arms behind his head.
Nate was in the corner, writing in his journal by the light of his phone.
Alex had positioned himself next to Colin, his bag of snacks at his elbow, vibrating with the kind of energy that suggested sleep was not imminent.
Kyle had left an hour ago, carrying Joshua’s massive binder under his arm. He had made sure they had everything they needed and reminded them that the bathrooms were down the hall and the kitchen had drinks in the refrigerator and coffee for the morning.
Colin lay on his back, staring at the ceiling tiles. The building was quiet except for the occasional creak of settling walls and the distant hum of the HVAC system Kyle had warned them about.
“You awake?” Alex whispered.
“Yeah,” Colin breathed back, the dark pressing in on every side.
“Me too. This is… I don’t know. Amazing. Weird, but amazing.”
Joshua chuckled softly. “Well, that’s one word for it.”
“I can’t believe I get to do this,” Alex whispered, voice raw with disbelief. “Help real people. Did you see Ben? How scared he was? But after he talked, I think he felt better. I just… I hope he did.”
“You did more than good today, Alex,” Joshua said, voice low. “You were brave. You showed up, and it changed things.”
“Thanks.” Alex’s voice was small. “Do you think Emma’s okay?”
Colin’s chest tightened. He didn’t answer right away.
“I don’t know,” he said finally.
Another pause. Then Alex said, “She just looked… gone. Like she wasn’t really here.”
“Yeah,” Colin said quietly. “You’re right. She did.”
From across the room, Trent’s voice rumbled: “Can we save the therapy session for tomorrow? Some of us are trying to sleep.”
“Sorry,” Alex whispered with a giggle, not sounding sorry at all.
Silence settled over the room again. Colin closed his eyes, but sleep felt impossibly far away. His mind kept circling back to Emma—the way she’d wrapped her arms around herself, the careful way she’d held her notebook and Kyle’s card like they were precious.
Joshua’s hand found his in the darkness between their sleeping bags. He squeezed once.
Colin squeezed back.
Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked. The HVAC kicked on with a mechanical groan. Alex shifted restlessly beside them, and Nate’s phone light finally clicked off.
Tomorrow, Colin thought. Tomorrow they’d do it all again. And tomorrow, maybe Emma would come back.
He held onto that thought as the community center settled into an uneasy quiet, and eventually—finally—sleep found him.
After a restless night, Colin squirmed against the hard floor, easing his way into wakefulness.
An unexpected presence warmed his chest and shoulder, and his eyes popped open.
Joshua’s sleeping bag was snugged tight against his own.
He was spooned against Colin’s chest, hugging a pillow, his dark head resting against Colin’s shoulder and upper arm.
“No wonder my arm’s dead,” Colin grumbled, poking Joshua. “When exactly did I sign up to be the big spoon, huh?”
Joshua squinted up, hair sticking in wild directions. “Sorry, Officer—habit. You’re just so damn comfy.”
Colin snorted and tugged him closer. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Joshua grinned, and for a second, it was just them, hidden from the world.
The lights suddenly flashed on, and Nate’s voice filled the room: “Wakey, wakey! Coffee’s ready!”
Colin hissed out a short breath and kissed Joshua’s dark hair, feeling him shaking with laughter. “I will kill him,” Colin grumbled, then sighed. “Nate! Coffee!”
Nate handed him a chipped mug, filled to the brim. “Here you go, bossy!” he grumbled before handing Joshua his own mug.
Kyle’s voice drifted from the hallway, cheerful and unapologetic. “Fair warning: I’m a tea drinker. The coffee’s been in that cabinet since 2019.”
“That explains so much,” Trent replied, moving toward the bathroom.
Mug in hand, Colin sat up slowly, his sleeping bag rustling.
Around him, the room was coming to life in stages.
Nate was already dressed, his hair defying gravity in at least three directions, scribbling in his journal by the window.
Alex had somehow migrated during the night and was now sprawled sideways next to the couch.
Trent wandered in and flopped down on the worn sofa.
“Morning, sunshine,” Colin said, his voice rough.
Joshua sat up, lifting a mug to his lips. “You sleep at all?”
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
Colin shrugged. There was no point denying it. Joshua knew him too well.
Kyle reappeared in the doorway, holding a box of donuts. “Morning, gentlemen. I figured you’d need sustenance after a night on that floor. There’s a Dunkin’ down the road.”
“You’re a saint,” Trent said, reaching to grab a doughnut.
Colin stood, his knees protesting, and grabbed his duffel. “I’m hitting the bathroom. Be back in ten.”
The bathroom was small, institutional, and smelled faintly of industrial cleaner. Colin splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection—tired eyes, stubble he hadn’t bothered shaving yesterday. He tried to shake off the weight that had settled over him.
Emma’s being destroyed.
Sharon’s words kept circling back. He’d spent hours lying awake, running through legal strategies, drafting mental outlines of Title IX complaints, thinking about Kathy and all the ways systems failed kids who needed help most.
Not this time.
He dried his face, changed into a clean shirt, and headed back to the main room.
By the time he returned, the team had assembled into something resembling functional humans. Nate was halfway through a glazed doughnut, Alex was bouncing on his toes despite the early hour, and Joshua had claimed the last chocolate frosted.
“All right,” Kyle said, checking his watch. “Kids start arriving at ten. You’ve got about forty-five minutes. Anything you need from me?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Joshua said. “Yesterday was good. Let’s see if we can build on it.”
Kyle nodded. “I’ll be out front minding the phones. Holler if you need anything.”
After he left, the room fell quiet. Colin looked around the circle of chairs they’d left set up from yesterday, then glanced around the room.
“So,” he said. “Day two.”
“Day two,” Joshua echoed. He set down his coffee and stepped into the circle, hands in his pockets. “Today’s going to be different. Yesterday was introductions. Today, we dig deeper. Some of these kids are going to come back ready to talk. Some aren’t. Either way, we follow their lead.”
“What about one-on-ones?” Nate asked. “Are we doing those today?”
“If anyone asks,” Joshua said. “Colin’s meeting with Emma’s parents after the group session. I’ll be available for private conversations. You’re running the journaling workshop this afternoon—that’ll be a good time to grab them for a talk if they want one.”
Nate nodded, already making notes in his journal.
Colin glanced at the door, imagining the kids filing in again: Jamie with his phone and his guard up. Ben with his questions about coming out. Emilio, jaw tight, carrying whatever weight he hadn’t been ready to share yesterday.
And Emma. Small, quiet Emma, who’d said thank you and walked out clutching Kyle’s card like a lifeline.
“Let’s make today count,” Colin said.
At 10:05 a.m., the first kid walked through the door.
It was Ben. He was wearing the same Captain America shirt, clutching his bright red notebook from yesterday, and he gave Joshua a shy wave before sitting in the same chair he’d claimed the day before.
“Morning, Ben,” Joshua said.
“Morning.”
Two minutes later, Marissa and Daniela arrived together again, but this time they weren’t whispering nervously. Marissa was laughing at something her sister had said, and they dropped into their chairs with the ease of people who’d decided this place was safe.
Emilio came next, still in his football jersey, jaw still set. But he nodded at Colin as he passed, and that was something.
Jamie slouched in at 10:12, hood up, phone already out. He dropped into his chair and didn’t look up, but he was here. That mattered.
By 10:20, they had everyone from yesterday. Plus two new faces.
The first was a girl, maybe fifteen, hair chopped short and dyed a shade of purple that practically shouted. Her battered leather jacket looked like armor. She scanned the room—cool, sharp, wary—then shrugged and dropped into a chair like it owed her rent.
Kyle appeared behind her. “This is River,” he said. “She/her. Heard about the group and wanted to check it out.”
River gave a two-fingered salute. “Hey.”
The second new arrival was a boy, tall and gangly, with braces and a nervous energy that made him look like he might bolt at any second. Kyle introduced him as Marcus, he/him, and Marcus sat down between Nate and Alex, bouncing his knee at a pace that suggested he’d had way too much caffeine.
Colin counted heads. Nine kids, plus Alex. Not bad for a second day in a town that hadn’t been thrilled that this event even existed. All but one had remembered their notebooks.