CHAPTER TWELVE
Fallon
MY PHONE’S GPS CALLED OUT A TURN THAT LED ME INTO A rundown part of Roxbury, a few towns over from Sparrow Falls.
I could practically hear Kye’s voice screaming in my head that I shouldn’t be here alone.
But it was broad daylight, and he hadn’t exactly been present the past few days. I’d gotten one text from him.
“I’m sorry, Fal. I’m an ass. Thanks for always having my back. I’ll gather the references and other documents if you can start the paperwork. I’ll bring everything to you as soon as I have it all.”
What the hell did that mean? Did he want to get fake married or not?
But despite the ambiguity when it came to me, he had no such confusion regarding his sisters.
I’d already received statements from all my siblings, Mom, and Lolli, and a letter from Anson, pulling out all his fancy psychology terms to make the judge feel like an idiot if he didn’t choose to put the girls with Kye.
Even Jericho had given a statement that had my chest constricting, talking about how Kye had inspired him to turn his life around.
Maybe Kye didn’t need me after all. It was probably for the best. Because now that I knew I wasn’t alone in my feelings for him, I was closer than ever to breaking. His words had been playing on repeat in my mind ever since he’d stalked off that back patio.
“I’ve been dreaming of you since I was sixteen. You’ve been my one spark of light in the hellish dark. The only good thing in my life.”
Pressure built along my sternum—the bone that held my chest together when it felt like everything inside was shattering.
The place that was only Kyler’s. Nothing killed more than realizing the person you’d loved for fourteen years might just love you, too.
Only to find out the love you could almost taste was still so painfully out of reach.
Because how could I ask him to risk the only support system he had?
My phone told me to take the next right, and my grip on the wheel tightened as the neighborhood got a little rougher.
I saw a group of guys sitting on a broken-down porch, waiting as a car pulled up.
The youngest one, who looked no older than sixteen, ran down and slipped something to the driver, taking cash in return.
My back teeth ground together. I’d call Trace on my way home. See if he could call Roxbury’s chief of police and have them do a drive-by.
“Your destination is on the left,” my phone announced.
I searched for the right house, and my gaze landed on a house with peeling siding and patchy grass. A grizzled man was working on a motorcycle in the driveway. I pulled up to the curb opposite the house and grabbed my phone from its cradle. I might be stubborn, but I wasn’t an idiot.
Me:
Making one last attempt to contact Les Jensen. Neighborhood’s a little rough. I’m at 133 N Spruce St.
My phone dinged with a reply before I could even reach for my purse.
Noah:
I would’ve come with you.
Noah:
Want to wait? I can drive over.
I glanced over at the man who was now watching me, wariness in his gaze. It was too late now.
Me:
I’m good. He’s outside, so not much risk.
Noah:
Text me the second you’re done. No, CALL ME.
I winced. It wasn’t fair to put that sort of pressure or responsibility on him. But I’d do the same for him if needed.
Grabbing my bag, I climbed out of my hatchback and beeped the locks.
I recognized Les Jensen from his mug shot.
He’d been charged with a lot over the years: Drug possession, grand theft auto, armed robbery, and assault.
He’d been in and out of jail for most of his life and painted a similar picture to Renee’s previous partner, Kye’s birth father, Rex Blackwood.
Renee had a type. And it wasn’t good.
Les pushed to his feet and surveyed me from head to toe, making me feel like I was wearing nothing despite my wide-leg trousers and thick sweater. It might be sunny, but it wasn’t even fifty degrees out.
“Help you?” Les asked, his voice gravelly.
“Les Jensen?”
“Depends.”
I knew it was him, but I still needed the formalities. “I’m Fallon Colson. I work—”
Les’s green eyes narrowed on me. “You’re that social worker who won’t quit callin’.”
“Guilty. I—”
“Mighta picked up if I knew you were a looker.”
My jaw clenched, a muscle there fluttering with my heartbeat. “I wanted to talk to you about your daughters, Hayden, Clementine, and Gracie. They’ve been removed from their mother’s care.”
Les’s grease-streaked fingers tightened around some sort of wrench I couldn’t identify. “What’d that cunt do now?”
Clearly, there was no love lost between the two ex-partners, but I did my best to keep my expression blank. “She’s been charged with child abuse, child endangerment, assault, and drug possession.”
“Sucks for her.” He crouched and began working on his bike again, not bothering to even ask about the girls.
I adjusted my grip on my tote bag. “We are filing to terminate Renee’s parental rights.”
“Prolly a good idea,” Les muttered.
“In situations like this, we look to the next closest relatives to see if they’re interested in taking custody.”
Les looked up at me. “Don’t got time for no kids. Don’t got the space or the funds.”
I couldn’t deny the relief that coursed through me at his words.
There was no way I would have felt good about Les Jensen as a candidate for guardianship.
I dipped my hand into my bag and pulled out a folder.
“Would you like to relinquish your parental rights? It means that if another relative takes custody, they won’t be able to request child support. ”
Les pushed to his feet again, scowling at me. “Ain’t nobody takin’ my money.”
“This would ensure that. But it also means you won’t be able to file for custody in the future. You will just have to appear in court to confirm your decision.”
Les jerked the folder from my hand. “Gimme a goddamned pen.”
I offered him one but couldn’t disguise the trembling in my fingers as I did.
Les scribbled his signature across the pages and thrust them back at me. “Don’t you look down on me, bitch. You don’t know what I’ve lived through.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to cower. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“Those girls are better off in foster care. Trust me.”
That’s when I saw that he was trying to do the right thing in his own way. I let out a shaky breath. “I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure they get the best possible placement.”
Tiny divots appeared in the corners of Les’s jaw, telling me just how hard he was clenching his teeth. Then he looked away and dropped down to his bike again. “Whatever.”
My heart cracked. For all Hayden, Clem, and Gracie had missed out on in their lives. And even a little for Les and how he would miss out on seeing his girls grow and all the amazingness that came with that.
I tucked the folder into my tote bag and headed for my car. Within seconds, I was inside, turning the key. I silently prayed for the struggling engine to start—this was the last place I wanted to get stuck.
Air whooshed from my lungs as it rumbled to life. As I drove out of the neighborhood, I hit a button on the side of my phone. “Call Noah.”
“Calling Noah Myers,” my phone said in its mechanical voice.
He answered before the second ring. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t exactly sound it.”
I flipped on my blinker. “He signed away his parental rights.”
Noah was quiet for a moment, knowing the double-edged sword this could be. “It’s probably for the best, given his record. And this gives Kye a shot.”
I heard the skepticism in Noah’s voice about that second piece of the puzzle. “Any updates on Renee?”
“Charges have been filed and so has the motion to terminate her parental rights. That’s the good news. The bad news is that she’s out on bail.”
My fingers tightened around the wheel. “You think she’ll seek out the girls?” It didn’t matter that it would go against a court order. Some parents didn’t give a damn.
A phone rang in the background before someone silenced it, and Noah began speaking again. “I don’t think she cares enough. I could be mistaken. I gave the schools a heads-up. And Mrs. McKenzie, too.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m going to see the girls now. I want to check in and keep them in the loop.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
Every caseworker handled this sort of thing differently. Some wanted to shield their clients from everything; others thought complete transparency was vital to building trust. I sat somewhere in the middle, always considering the child’s age when deciding what to share.
I always tried to thread the needle in a way that built trust but didn’t make kids who’d often been in volatile situations worry unnecessarily.
But with Hayden, Clem, and Gracie … they needed honesty.
At least the older two did. They’d lived a life beyond their years, and they’d know if someone was lying to them.
“Hayden has been a mother to Clem and Gracie for … I don’t even want to know how long. If I cut her out of this process, I’ll lose any hope of gaining their trust.”
Noah sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I did, too. Because I was holding the fate of Kye’s sisters in my hands. I’d never forgive myself if I screwed up. And I didn’t think Kye would forgive me either.