Chapter Two
T anner Fernsby stood by the curtainless window, staring at the traffic below. He shivered when a breeze moved over his skin and glanced over his shoulder to check on Savannah, his sister, seeing she was still sleeping. Sighing softly, he looked back outside.
Cars crawled through the junction, brake lights blinking, horns blaring. Someone shouted from the sidewalk. Someone else laughed. The city kept moving, even when you felt stuck in place like Tanner did.
Tanner closed his eyes, his mind drifting over the past three years and all he’d done.
The choices he’d made. Stealing food and clothes because he’d had no money.
He could reconcile with that. He did struggle when it came to the time he was a drug runner, but he’d needed the money and it had been better than the alternative.
Prostitution. Yes, he’d done that a handful of times and every time he’d felt dirty and degraded, but Savannah needed food and he wasn’t going to fail her.
Opening his eyes, Tanner placed a hand on the glass, feeling the cold seep into his skin. “CPS,” he whispered.
They’d come to the house two days after their parents’ funeral.
Tanner remembered the knock on the door and how loud it had seemed in the quiet house.
He’d wiped his hands on his jeans, picked up Savannah before opening the door, trying to look older than sixteen.
Savannah had been fussing, her tiny hands clenched into fists.
The woman had smiled when she spoke. The man with her had held a folder and took down notes.
They’d talked about support and the next steps available.
About what was best for Savannah as a newborn.
Tanner had stood there and nodded, because arguing felt wrong and strangely dangerous.
He couldn’t name why he felt that way until they’d said it—placement.
Temporary. Different homes until things were decided.
Tanner hadn’t heard much after that. All he’d seen was Savannah in someone else’s arms. Savannah growing up and not knowing who he was. Tanner potentially being kept from her with some excuse about her being settled.
When they’d left, he’d locked the door and slid down the wall with Savannah held close. He’d waited until she fell asleep and then he’d packed.
Now he looked around the one room apartment.
Mold crept along the corners and climbed the wall behind the window.
The mattress sat on the floor because he couldn’t afford a frame.
Clothes were piled on plastic bags to keep them off the floor.
It wasn’t tidy, but it was dry enough and some nights that was all that mattered.
It was still better than the streets. Better than Savannah curled up under a bridge with his arm around her, listening for footsteps.
Better than trying to keep her quiet when men passed too close and didn’t bother hiding the way they looked at them.
Looked at her. Better than shelters where he couldn’t sleep because he didn’t trust anyone.
This place was small and it smelled, but he could lock the door.
He could put Savannah down and know she wouldn’t wake up to strangers watching her.
He could leave her for a couple of minutes to use the bathroom without panicking and rushing back to make sure she was still safe.
He couldn’t keep doing it, though. Not like this.
He was nineteen now. An adult. That meant CPS couldn’t walk in and take her because he was young and broke and didn’t have the right paperwork. They couldn’t split them up the way they’d tried before.
Or so he hoped.
Tanner dragged a hand down his face and looked at the door and the two locks. He’d added the second himself after the first week. The landlord hadn’t liked it, but Tanner hadn’t cared.
Crossing the room, Tanner checked the chain anyway and then he checked the window latch even though the window didn’t properly close. The frame was warped and the lock didn’t sit right. He’d jammed a piece of wood into the track so it couldn’t be pushed up from outside and so far that had worked.
Sighing, Tanner shook his head. He didn’t trust this building.
He didn’t trust the people who came and went at all hours of the day and night or the man in the next unit who always looked too long when Savannah toddled past the door.
He didn’t trust the woman downstairs who smiled at Savannah and then asked Tanner questions that had felt far too personal.
He went to the tiny kitchen area with its sink that dripped if you turned the tap too hard.
A two-ring hot plate that he barely used.
Tanner opened the cupboard and stared inside, seeing a handful of items. Half a box of cereal, a can of soup, pasta in a torn bag with a clip he’d stolen from a shop display and a small bottle of dish soap that was mostly water now. He shut it again and exhaled softly.
Tanner had been stretching everything for weeks telling himself things would improve. That he could keep doing short jobs and picking up cash where he could. That he could hold out.
But Savannah was three, almost four now.
She wasn’t a baby in his arms anymore. She asked questions and she wanted things.
She noticed when the walls were damp and the room smelled wrong.
She noticed when he flinched at footsteps in the hall.
She noticed when he woke up too fast and checked the door and then checked her.
Worse, she’d started coughing in the mornings. Not every morning but enough that it stayed with him, and he knew things had to change.
There was a small table under the window.
Well, Tanner called it a table. It wasn’t really.
It was more of a folding thing he’d picked up cheap from a thrift store.
The leg didn’t lock properly so he’d shoved cardboard under it to keep it level.
On top was a notebook, an old phone charger, and a pile of coins and small bills.
Tanner sat down and pulled the money toward him and counted it. Then he counted it again. Enough for a bus ticket. Enough for food on the way. Enough to get to Robinson and not be completely stranded.
Robinson.
The word hit with a punch of emotions he’d shoved down deep inside. Relief because it was home, but fear too, because of what would be waiting there.
For the three years Tanner had been gone he’d tried to avoid thinking about Robinson or the home they’d fled, or the friends he’d left behind.
He’d tried not to say it out loud for three years.
He’d tried not to picture the kitchen where his mom used to stand with a tea towel over her shoulder.
He’d tried not to remember his dad’s boots by the back door.
He’d tried and failed because it was home and he wanted to go home.
He thought of the house sitting empty. He didn’t know if it was empty, not really. He hadn’t been back and in his head it was still frozen in time, with dust settling in rooms no one used. A place waiting for him to return and make it a home again.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans hanging over the chair, Tanner pulled something out. A simple key on a cheap ring. He turned it between his fingers. He didn’t have much that was his anymore. That key was one of the few things he’d never traded away.
Tanner stood and crossed back to the mattress. Savannah was still asleep. One sock had slid halfway off her foot and her stuffed rabbit was tucked under her chin, the fur worn thin where she held it.
He knelt and pulled the sock back on properly then stood again and looked at the clothes pile. He’d already done the sorting earlier, then second guessed it, and dumped it all back together because he didn’t have the headspace to deal with it. Now he forced himself to focus.
He grabbed two plastic bags and started filling them. Savannah’s clothes first. Always. Shirts, leggings, pajamas, underwear, socks. Her small coat with the broken zipper that he’d fixed with a safety pin, then her spare shoes.
Once her clothes had been packed, Tanner moved on to what clothes he had. A couple of shirts, one hoodie, jeans, underwear, socks.
He paused and looked at the corner where a thin blanket was folded. It was his backup. He’d carried it across half the city more than once when they had to move in a hurry. He shook it out, checked it for damp, and refolded it then put it in the bag.
The silence was broken when Tanner’s phone buzzed on the table. Tanner froze for a second before he moved and went over to pick it up. Unknown number. He didn’t answer unknown numbers.
It buzzed again with the same unknown number and Tanner stared at it, hit end and put it down, ignoring his shaky hand. If it was someone trying to get money, they’d try again later. If it was something worse, he didn’t want to know.
Checking the time on the screen, Tanner saw it was late afternoon. He needed to be moving before it got dark.
Opening the small drawer, Tanner took out the things he couldn’t replace easily. A battered envelope containing a birth certificate he’d managed to keep and a clinic card for Savannah. He tucked the envelope inside his hoodie, against his chest. If someone took the bags, they wouldn’t take that.
A sound came from the mattress as Savannah shifted. Tanner went to her and stroked her cheek as her eyes blinked open. She looked around, then her eyes found him.
“Tanny,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.
He swallowed and gave her a soft smile. “Hey, baby.”
Savannah rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and frowned. “Cold.”
“I know.” He pulled the blanket higher. “Stay under the blanket.”
Savannah’s gaze drifted past him to the bags by the wall. “Where go?”
Tanner kept his voice calm and smiled down at her. “We’re going on a trip.”
Savannah sat up, hair sticking up at the back. “Park?”
He nodded because it was easier than telling her the truth. “Yeah. Park and we’re going to see the trees and the birds and maybe some doggies too.”
Savannah’s eyes widened at that. She liked trees and dogs. The few times he’d managed to take her somewhere green she’d run until her legs gave out.
“Doggies,” she repeated, then yawned.
Tanner brushed hair back from her forehead. “You want cereal?”
Savannah nodded, so he went to the cupboard and poured cereal into one of the plastic bowls, adding a small splash of milk from the tiny carton in the fridge.
He carried it back and handed it to her. She ate slowly, still waking up, crumbs sticking to her lip. Tanner watched her eat and kept listening for noise in the hallway.
When Savannah finished, she pushed the bowl toward him. “More.”
“That’s it,” he told her gently. “We’ll get more food later.”
Savannah frowned, then accepted it because she was used to that answer. Tanner wiped her mouth with his thumb and then used the edge of his shirt because he didn’t have any wipes left.
Savannah leaned into him and rested her head against his chest and Tanner held her and let himself close his eyes.
After a few seconds, Tanner put her back on the mattress. “Get dressed. We’re going to go in a minute.”
Savannah crawled to the bag and started pulling things out. “Not that one,” Tanner said, grabbing her hand gently. “This one.”
He took out her leggings and shirt and helped her put them on. He didn’t rush her, but he didn’t let her go too slow either. Time was important now.
When she was dressed, he pulled her coat on and fixed the safety pin at the zipper. He put her shoes on and tied them tight.
Savannah looked up at him. “Where going?”
“Home,” he said before he could stop himself.
Savannah stared for a second, then smiled. “Home.”
The word hit him. Hard. He looked away, grabbed the bags, and checked the room one last time, Tanner made sure he’d left nothing behind. He picked up the small key again and closed his fist around it.
Walking to the door, Tanner hesitated with his hand on the lock. Not because he wanted to stay, but because leaving meant committing to a huge change in their lives and that change scared him even though he wanted it.
Taking a deep breath, he unlocked it, cracked it open, and listened. When he knew the hallway was quiet, he picked up Savannah and stepped out, locking the door behind him. He shifted Savannah on his hip and Savannah pressed her face against his neck. “Home,” she whispered again.
Tanner tightened his grip on her. “Yeah.”
Quickly taking the stairs, Tanner walked outside, and as soon as he hit the sidewalk he walked away. He went to the bus stop and checked the schedule taped to the pole. He’d already looked it up earlier, but he checked again because he needed to be sure.
There was a bus in fifteen minutes. Tanner shifted Savannah higher and held her tight. She was getting heavy now, but he didn’t put her down. They didn’t live in a great area of the city, and he knew he had to keep an eye on their surroundings.
He waited with his back to the wall and his eyes on the street. People moved around them and no one looked twice at them, but then again they rarely did, not in a city. Still, Tanner watched.
When the bus came, he got on quickly, paid in cash, and took a seat near the front. He put the bags by his feet and held Savannah on his lap.
She fell asleep again within minutes, her head against his shoulder. Tanner didn’t sleep. He watched every stop and every person who got on. His phone buzzed again with the same unknown number, and he ignored it.
The bus rattled through the city, then out toward the edge. Tanner stared out of the window, watching the buildings slowly give way to more open spaces. He thought of Robinson again and the knock two days after the funeral, then he thought of Savannah’s small voice saying home.
Tanner shifted and looked down at her face.
She was asleep, her mouth slightly open, and her rabbit tucked under her arm.
He couldn’t keep doing this. Running and hiding and starting over again.
He was nineteen now and he could do this properly.
He could go back to Robinson and take what was theirs and make it work.
Make their house a home. A proper bedroom with a bed for Savannah.
Tanner tightened his arm around her and lowered his head. He leaned close to her ear, careful not to wake her. “We’re going home,” he whispered.