PROLOGUE
Finley
“I’m ten years old. I should be able to stay at home by myself.” I loved my mom but hated that sometimes she treated me like I was a baby. I was the man of the house. It was just her and me, and it always had been. There was no reason I couldn’t take care of myself and the apartment.
“Not overnight, Finley.”
“But, Mom—” Boom. Boom. Boom. I was interrupted by banging sounds from the party in the apartment above ours. Mom worked the graveyard shift at a local hospital. She was in housekeeping, which meant she had to clean up all the gross stuff all the time. She said she was thankful for the job, that it was a good one and I should appreciate it too, but all I knew was she was always tired, had to stay up all night, and that she worried about me. She even made a babysitter stay with me, but Karen had called at the last minute to say she was sick.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what to do. God, I don’t know what to do. Why does everything have to be so hard?” Mom paced the small living room. It was super clean. Mom always said we might not live in the best places, but she’d damn sure make them a home.
She didn’t have to keep speaking—I knew what she was thinking. There was a break-in three apartments down from us two weeks ago. Mom was worried about me. Mom was always worried about me. It was my fault she was alone and lost her family, which made guilt weigh down my bones, so I said, “I’ll go get my stuff.” I wasn’t going to make this harder on her.
We came up with a plan. I was going to stay in the ER waiting room. She packed me snacks, a blanket, books, and a Game Boy she’d saved to buy. If anyone asked, I was supposed to say I was waiting for my mom, who was in with the doctor, but she hoped no one would notice. This was LA, and the waiting rooms were always crazy-busy.
I sat there for hours. I was bored and sleepy, but the lady sitting beside me kept saying she had bugs under her skin and sort of freaking out. I didn’t want bugs under my skin, so I grabbed my stuff and left. I wasn’t supposed to go out of the waiting room, but I’d be good, quiet. I’d still look like a patient waiting.
I wandered around the hallways a bit. They kept the doors locked to the main side of the hospital, so I couldn’t go far. My eyes were getting heavy and scratchy, but I didn’t want to go back and risk getting bugs under my skin.
There was this part of the hallway that dipped in, like someone had cut a rectangle out of the wall from floor to ceiling. I sat down on the ground in it and leaned my head against the wall, blanket over my legs, and played my game for a bit.
The next thing I knew, there was a hand on my shoulder. “Hey…are you okay?”
My eyes jerked open to see a guy kneeling beside me. He had on a white jacket that said Dr. Kingsley on it. He had black hair and big brown eyes, and he smiled at me. A nice kind of smile that made me feel like maybe he was a nice guy. Still, I froze. The story Mom had told me was there, sitting on my tongue, but I couldn’t make the words leave my mouth.
“Are your parents here? Are you sick?” Dr. Kingsley asked.
My stupid words still wouldn’t come out, and I just kept looking at him.
“Finley…oh my God. I was looking for you!” Mom pushed between me and the doctor and wrapped her arms around me. He stood, looking at us, at Mom in her uniform as I watched him over her shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again. I thought I lost you. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you!”
She was squeezing me so tight, I could hardly breathe. Then I felt her go stiff, like she just realized what had happened. She let go of me and turned to the doctor. “I’m sorry. Please…my sitter didn’t show up, and I couldn’t call in at the last moment. I need this job, and I didn’t know what to do. He won’t cause any problems, I promise.”
He frowned. “You brought your son to work with you?”
“I don’t…I don’t have anyone, and I couldn’t afford to miss. I know that’s not your problem—it’s mine. But I’m a great worker. I’ve never missed a day, and—”
“What’s going on here?” Another doctor approached. He was older, with gray hair, and his smile wasn’t as nice as Dr. Kingsley’s.
“I…” Mom started and then dropped her head.
Stupid. I’d been so stupid. She was gonna get in trouble, and it was all my fault.
“Nothing,” Dr. Kingsley said. “This little boy is here with his aunt. They’re waiting for his mom in the ER, and the housekeeper was just going to take him back to his family now.”
Oh God. He’d lied…for us. He’d saved Mom her job, so we wouldn’t have to move again and she wouldn’t cry every night, trying to figure out what we were gonna do.
“Thank you for the help,” Dr. Kingsley told Mom.
“No problem. I… Thank you,” Mom said. She ushered me away, but I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder at Dr. Kingsley as we went.
I hated everything.
I hated this stupid city and my stupid grandparents for not letting Mom live with them because she had me.
I hated school and teachers, who either looked at me like I was nothing or with nothing but pity in their eyes.
I hated social workers and foster families and Mom…I hated her for dying. For leaving me alone.
And missed her. I missed her so much, I couldn’t breathe. So much that sometimes I wished I’d had a massive heart attack and died too. She was young, everyone said…so young, but I guess they’d never had a broken heart before. Age didn’t matter. I knew that was what killed her—a broken heart and exhaustion, for being on her own for fourteen years with me.
Anger ripped through me, mixing my sadness with fury.
I didn’t care, not about anything, and I never would. Not after losing her.
Eventually, I found myself in a grocery store. Was it weird that I didn’t even know how I’d gotten there? I’d run away from the foster family. They weren’t my family. I’d never have family. I didn’t need them or anyone else.
I walked up and down the aisles, ending up in one full of candy. I had no idea what made me do it—maybe because I hated the world, or was angry I had no money, or what—but I grabbed a candy bar.
A tall guy with dark hair stood about ten feet away from me but didn’t appear to be paying me any attention. My eyes found him, then looked the other way as I slipped the candy bar into my pocket.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the guy said.
“Fuck you,” I gritted out, then felt itchy and weird. I lowered my eyes. “I’m sorry.” I had no idea where that had come from.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” I replied, and suddenly I was embarrassed of my jeans with the holes in them and the dirt on my hands.
“Look at me,” he said, and when I did, a gasp tore out of my throat and I stumbled backward. It was him, the doctor who’d saved Mom’s job four years ago. My eyes filled with tears, and I hated those too. What the hell did crying do? It didn’t help jack shit.
A worker came down the aisle, straightening product. I started to shake and wiped at the tears in my eyes, wondering if I was spreading dirt around.