Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Summer
The sharp ringing of my phone cut through the quiet hum of my office, shattering my concentration as I flipped through case files. I reached for it, recognizing the number before I even answered.
“Summer, it’s Jake—he tried to run again.”
My stomach clenched instantly.
I shot up from my chair, already grabbing my bag. “Is he okay?”
“He’s safe, but it took two staff members to bring him back. He fought hard this time. He won’t speak to anyone. Can you come?”
“I’m on my way.”
I didn’t waste another second. I grabbed my coat, barely registering the curious glances of my coworkers as I rushed out. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I drove, my hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary.
Not Jake.
Jake had been at the foster home for only a few weeks, but every day had been a battle.
He refused to speak to the staff, barely acknowledged the other kids, and he certainly hadn’t let himself believe that this could be home, even temporarily.
Some kids held on to a sliver of hope, even if they hid it well. But Jake? He didn’t have any.
And now, he was trying to escape. Again.
The moment I pulled up to the foster home, I was already moving, barely closing my car door before hurrying inside. A staff member met me at the entrance, her face drawn with exhaustion.
"We caught him at the fence," she explained as we walked. "He wasn't just wandering. He was running. Like he had somewhere to be."
My chest tightened.
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"In his room. He hasn't eaten. Won't talk. Just curled up in bed, staring at the wall."
I took a deep breath, nodding as we reached his door. The hallway was quiet, heavy with the weight of unspoken things. The air felt thick, like it carried the emotions of every child who had ever stayed here. I steadied myself before pushing open the door.
Jake sat on the small bed, his knees pulled to his chest, his fingers clutching the fabric of his jeans so tightly that his knuckles were white. He barely acknowledged my presence, only glancing up for a fraction of a second before looking away, his expression a mask of indifference.
I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me.
I didn’t approach him, didn’t push. Instead, I grabbed the small chair by the wall and sat near the door, giving him space.
"Hey, buddy," I said gently, my voice calm but firm.
He didn’t respond.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. "You scared everyone today."
Still, nothing.
"You wanna tell me why?"
Silence.
I studied him, noting the way his shoulders were tense, how he was holding himself tightly, like if he let go, everything would come crashing down.
"I know you don’t want to be here," I continued, my tone even. "And I know you think leaving is the only way out."
His fingers twitched slightly, but he didn’t move.
Encouraged by the tiny reaction, I exhaled slowly and said, "I used to know someone like you. A boy who never thought he belonged anywhere. He spent his whole life being passed around, just waiting for the day someone would finally give up on him for good."
Jake’s body stiffened slightly, but he still refused to look at me.
"He was older than you," I went on, my voice softer now. "Sixteen. Almost an adult. Everyone told him that no one wanted teenagers. That the younger kids were always picked first. So after a while, he stopped hoping. He stopped believing anyone would ever choose him."
A long pause.
Then, in a voice so small I almost missed it, Jake whispered, "What happened to him?"
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. "One day, someone did choose him."
That made him lift his head slightly, his dark eyes flickering with the smallest trace of curiosity.
"A couple saw him," I continued, watching him carefully. "And they didn’t care that he was sixteen. They didn’t care that he had walls as high as a castle. They just… chose him anyway. And even though he fought it, even though he didn’t believe it at first, they never gave up on him."
Jake stared at me, his brows slightly furrowed.
"He thought no one would ever want him," I said quietly. "But he was wrong."
A long, thick silence stretched between us.
Jake looked away again, his jaw clenched, his walls still up—but cracked.
"You think that’s going to happen to me?" he muttered, his voice edged with disbelief.
I gave him a soft, sad smile. "I think it already has."
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No one wants kids like me."
I shook my head. "That’s not true."
He scoffed. "Then why am I still here?"
I exhaled, keeping my voice steady. "Because sometimes, the right person just hasn’t found you yet. But they will."
He didn't respond, but his fingers slowly loosened their grip on his jeans, the tension in his small body easing just slightly.
I let the silence settle before adding, “And until then, you don’t have to be alone.”
His brows furrowed. "You’re saying that because it’s your job."
I shook my head. "No. I’m saying it because I mean it."
Another long pause.
Jake didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t curl back into himself either.
He just sat there, staring at the floor, his walls still standing—but not as high as before.
And that? That was something.
I stood up slowly, not wanting to push him any further. "I’ll check in on you later, okay?"
No response.
But as I reached the door, I heard him murmur, barely above a whisper, "That guy. The sixteen-year-old. Did he ever regret staying?"
I turned back, meeting his gaze.
I smiled softly. "Not even for a second."
Jake held my stare for a long moment before looking away again.
I didn’t need to hear anything else.
Because I knew—a door had been opened.
And even though Jake wasn’t ready to walk through it yet, at least now, he knew it was there.