“You did the best you could. And from what it sounds like, it’s good you were there with Ember, to protect her just in case.”
“It was a pretty shady neighborhood. And yeah, for a second there, I thought maybe Jess was gonna attack Ember. The drugs have really got hold of her, Tank.”
The two of us sit in silence, me smoking, Tank staring off into the distance.
“So, you just couldn’t stay away from Ember, could ya?” Tank says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I know.
Tank scoffs, and contemplates at the cherry on his cigarette. “Don’t fuck with me, brother. I shoulda known you wouldn’t be able to keep your dick in your pants.”
“It ain’t like that,” I protest.
“It’s exactly like that, from what I can see,” he shoots back angrily. “You really gonna lie to me and say you ain’t bangin’ her?”
“No, I am.” I struggle to find the words. “It’s just… I think maybe it’s more serious than that.”
“You’re shittin’ me.” Tank looks at me sharply.
“No. You think I’d say that unless it was true?”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tank whistles low. “She’s too good for your ass, you know.”
“I know.”
A few more seconds pass.
“Striker,” Tank says suddenly. “What if Wren isn’t mine?”
“Get the fuck outta town,” I dismiss him. “She’s yours.”
“Not necessarily.” He pauses. “It ain’t like Jess was a pure little virgin when she was hanging around the club.”
I try to think of a way to argue with that, but I can’t. “When do you get the test results back?” I ask instead.
“A couple days.”
“She’s yours, brother. You’re the only dad she’s ever known. Have faith in Ember, brother. She’s smart as hell. She’ll find a way.”
Tank waves away my words.
“But if I ain’t biologically her dad, they can take her away from me,” he repeats. “You know that. ‘Biker’ ain’t gonna be at the top of their list of preferred occupations for a dad who applies for adoption. Ember said that herself. And Cady can’t cancel my past out. Plus, you know Cady’s family is shady as shit, too. Cady’s not, but anyone who’s looking into us won’t know that.” Tank peers up at the sky. “We love that little girl more than life itself, but that don’t mean shit. Nothing means anything, except a goddamn blood test.” He trails off, sounding fucking exhausted.
I trust Ember completely, but I have to admit Tank might be right. If Wren gets taken away from him — even for a little while — he might never get her back.
Just like I lost my brother to the system, he might lose his little girl.
On the way home, we pick up Bert from the animal hospital. Ember cries when she sees him. I tell her that the Lords have cleaned up her place and ask her whether she wants me to take her there, or to my house.
“I just want to get Bert home, where he’s comfortable and where his surroundings are familiar. I’ll be safe there, won’t I?”
“Yeah, of course. You’ll still have security on you twenty-four seven. Your house wouldn’t have gotten tossed if you’d been in it,” I promise her.
“Then let’s go there.”
We get Bert settled in. Ember makes us some food. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours, and we’re both tired and hungry. We eat mostly in silence, then go in the living room and collapse on the couch.
“I don’t know what the next steps for Cady and Tank should be, Striker,” Ember admits. “At this point, I guess I’m just going to have to wait for the paternity test results and hope for the best.”
I bring up Tank’s worry. “What if he’s not the father?”
Ember pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them.
“Knowing what we do now? That would be kind of a dead end.” Her face is pinched. “We hope that Jessica doesn’t get it in her head to come take Wren back, because legally Tank wouldn’t have a way to stop her.”
“You don’t think she would do that, do you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know her. But it’s possible.” Ember looks glum. “We might have poked the hornet’s nest.”
“But she’s a fuckin’ druggie! Couldn’t we stop her?”
“We could, yes,” Ember nods slowly. “But in that case, like I said, Tank and Cady have no rights to Wren. She’d likely be placed in a foster situation, at least temporarily.”
“Abso-fuckin’-lutely not,” I growl. “There’s got to be another way.”
Ember raises her hands in a helpless gesture. “There wouldn’t really be much we could do about that, Striker. I mean, we could try, but that’s what the state will do. I might be able to talk to a social worker I know to have some influence on where Wren is placed. Maybe she could try to have her put with a family that’s not too far from this area. And maybe that family that would be open to Tank and Cady visiting Wren, but that would be the best-case scenario.”
“No! Fuck, what the hell, Ember?” I stare at her. “Are you just giving up?”
She huffs out a breath. “No, of course I’m not giving up! Striker, we’re not even there yet, okay? We have every reason to believe Wren is Tank’s daughter. But yes, if she’s not, it’s likely Wren would have to be placed…”
“Okay, stop saying that. I can’t fuckin’ believe this!” I gape at her in disbelief. “Don’t you even care about that family? You’re supposed to be working for them! Not already planning on letting the system take that kid away from them!”
“Oh my God, of course I care about them! I’m just saying that if Tank isn’t Wren’s father…”
“Then the system takes over and gets to decide what’s best for her?” I’m on my feet now, yelling too loud, but I don’t care. “And you’re fine with that?”
“How can you think I’m fine with that? No, of course I’m not, but that’s the way it is!” she shouts back.
“But that’s bullshit! You should be thinking about ways to stop it, ways to work around it! Not just accepting it!”
Ember stands up to face me. “Striker, be reasonable…”
Reasonable. The exact same word the fuckin’ social worker said to me when I argued that I should be able to get legal custody of my brother Richie even though I wasn’t eighteen yet.
Reasonable, my ass. People inside the system always think the system is reasonable. Because the system works for them. Not for people like me. Not for people like Tank.
And not for kids who fall through the cracks.
Ember keeps talking to me, trying to get me to calm down. But all I can see is Wren’s face, shrieking in fear as she’s pulled away from the only parents she knows.
And then, I see Richie, age eight, frantically calling my name as they put him in a car and take him away from me. Richie, who today probably doesn’t even tell people he once had a brother.