Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Summer
I wasn’t supposed to be here this early.
School didn’t start for another hour, and I definitely should have been using that time to sleep in like a normal person, but my brain wouldn’t shut up.
I had spent all night thinking—thinking about Malcolm, about the adoption, about how everything was changing whether I liked it or not.
I told myself I was being dramatic. It wasn’t like he was dying or moving to another planet.
But that didn’t stop the knot in my stomach from tightening every time I remembered that he wasn’t going to be here anymore.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I walked through the foster home’s front door, slipping past the handful of kids who were already awake.
The place smelled like burnt toast and coffee, meaning someone in the kitchen was failing spectacularly at making breakfast. Voices carried through the halls, but I ignored them, making a beeline for the common room.
And there he was.
Malcolm sat slouched in one of the old armchairs, hoodie up, arms crossed, looking every bit like the broody foster kid that he was. He looked like someone who had too many thoughts but no idea what to do with them, which made two of us. When he saw me, he didn’t look surprised.
“So,” he said, barely lifting his head. “You gonna keep avoiding me?”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”
He tilted his head. “You left yesterday.”
“You were busy.”
“Uh-huh.”
I sighed, shifting on my feet. He wasn’t wrong, exactly. But I also didn’t know what else to say.
Malcolm just stared at me for a long second, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he asked, “Are you sad?”
I hesitated, considering lying. But what was the point?
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But also… I’m happy for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That makes no sense.”
I stepped closer and punched his arm lightly. “It makes total sense. Shut up.”
He chuckled. “You’re the worst at this.”
“I know.”
I sighed dramatically, plopping onto the couch beside him and stretching my legs out. “So, what’s it like knowing you’ll never have to eat soggy foster home cereal again? Excited to trade this place in for a mansion with a golden toilet?”
Malcolm snorted. “Yeah, because that’s definitely what’s happening.”
I waved my hand. “Oh, for sure. You’ll have a butler named Alfred who brings you warm milk before bed and calls you Master Malcolm. Maybe even your own personal driver.”
“You’re insane.”
“Correction: delightfully unhinged.”
He shook his head, smirking. “No one calls you that.”
“They should,” I said, tossing a couch pillow at him. “Just promise me you won’t turn into some rich snob who forgets how to have fun.”
He caught the pillow effortlessly, tossing it right back. “I’ll do my best.”
We sat in silence for a few beats, just existing in the same space, something that was starting to feel more and more fragile.
I rolled my eyes, nudging him with my elbow. “You better not forget me.”
Malcolm huffed. “As if that’s possible.”
“You say that now, but wait until you’re eating five-course meals and wearing designer shoes that cost more than my entire existence.”
He smirked. “I don’t even wear nice shoes now.”
“Well, that’s because you have the fashion sense of a potato.”
He rolled his eyes. “Glad to know I’ll be leaving with my self-esteem intact.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence stretched between us again, but this time, it felt heavier. More real. Because after today, he wouldn’t just be a short walk away anymore. I wouldn’t be able to barge into the foster home and annoy him whenever I felt like it.
And I hated that.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, sighing dramatically. “You’re really going, huh?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I nodded too, like I needed to make myself accept it.
Then, without really thinking about it, I wrapped my arms around him.
Malcolm stiffened for half a second, but then his arms came around me too, holding on tighter than I expected. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding on longer than I probably should have, but I didn’t care.
This was Malcolm. My Malcolm. And after today, everything would be different.
He let out a slow breath.
“Thanks, Summer,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
I swallowed hard, ignoring the sudden sting behind my eyes.
Then I pulled away, forcing a grin, because if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let go at all.
“Don’t get too soft on me now,” I teased, punching his arm again.
He smirked. “Too late.”
And just like that, the weight in my chest got heavier.