The Year We Hid Away: A Hockey Romance (The Ivy Years Book 2)

-SCARLET-

BRIDGER TOOK us to Capri’s, which was a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint where the hockey team often hung out. But it was too early for the bar crowd, so we had a booth in the back corner all to ourselves. We ate a pie with sausage and olives. Bridger drank a beer while Brian and I had Cokes.

I snuggled against Bridger’s shoulder, feeling worn out. I didn’t know what to do with the suspicion that I’d heard something potentially terrible. And so long ago, too. I’d been Lucy’s age when I’d started avoiding that corner of the yard.

“The dean said I’ll have an apartment over on Osage Street before Christmas,” Bridger said. “Apparently, things always turn over during the holidays, because some people depart over the semester break. Until then, Lucy will stay one more week in Beaumont, and maybe a week at Hartley’s if we need it.” He loosened his tie. “This week has been my worst nightmare. Thank you both for talking me through it.”

“You are welcome,” Brian said. “I’m happy for you.” My uncle began to play with the straw in his drink, then. His face became somber. “But now we need to spend a little time talking about my worst nightmare.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

My uncle turned serious eyes on me. “There are some things you need to understand about your family.”

“Okay?” I watched his eyebrows knit together.

“Did you know your father and I were adopted?”

“No. Really?”

“Really. Your grandparents aren’t your blood relatives.”

“He never said anything about it.” But that wasn’t surprising. My father wasn’t a sharer. Not about anything.

“Your so-called grandfather…” Brian cleared his throat. “It was by design that he adopted two little boys.”

Oh.

My insides clenched at the direction that I feared his story was taking.

Brian dropped his gaze to the tabletop. “He wasn’t a good man. And it messed both of us up pretty bad. You already know some of what it did to me. I drank and I stole things. But J.P.…” he sighed. “I thought J.P. had held it together. He was the one of us who seemed to rise above it. He was the big hockey star, with the great big career. That’s what I thought, anyway. Until the news broke.”

Oh.

“Shan…” he cut off the word. “Scarlet, I had no idea. And I just feel sick about this. I need to ask you something very important.”

“Okay.”

Brian looked up at Bridger and hesitated. “I’m sorry, man. But can she and I talk alone for a minute?”

Concern crossed Bridger’s face. “If that’s what Scarlet wants.”

I reached across the table to put my hand on Brian’s sleeve. “No. Whatever you have to say, he can hear.” I was sick of hiding things from Bridger.

“Sweetie, I need to ask you a really personal question.”

“No,” I said. Brian opened his mouth to argue, but I stopped him. “I meant, no, my father never hurt me.”

Brian’s eyes welled up. “Sweetie, it’s really important that you tell me the truth.” His eyes flicked to Bridger again. “If he did hurt you, it would be really hard to talk about.”

“I would tell you the truth. I am telling you the truth. Just like I told Bridger when he asked me the same thing. I’m not lying about this.”

He still looked wary. “Sometimes people make themselves forget.”

I shook my head. “Look, he wasn’t a good dad. But… nothing like that ever happened. He yelled, Brian. About hockey, usually. But that’s the worst thing I ever saw him do.”

The tears spilled down Brian’s face. “God, Scarlet. I hope that’s so. Because that right there is my worst nightmare.”

I felt Bridger squeeze my hand, and I squeezed back.

Brian blew out a long, shuddering breath. “I would never forgive myself…” he let the sentence die.

Bridger was still squeezing my hand. Actually, he squeezed it so hard it was beginning to hurt. “Ouch,” I said gently. Bridger released my hand immediately. But he was staring hard at Brian.

“What’s wrong, Bridge?” I asked.

My boyfriend chewed on his lip. “Dude, I have a question.”

Brian looked up, wiping his eyes with his hands. “What?”

“Are you and J.P. blood relatives?”

At that, Brian grew very still. He didn’t answer Bridger. His gaze fell to the tabletop again.

Bridger looked from Brian to me and back again. “Come on, it’s a simple yes or no question. You and J.P. were both adopted. From the same parents, or not?”

“Why?” I asked, hating the sudden tension at the table. I didn’t understand it.

Brian shook his head at Bridger.

“Well, shit,” Bridger said. “Seriously? Are you going to…?”

“Hey, back off for a second.”

“Why would I?” Bridger challenged.

“Back off what?” I cried.

“Take a good look at Brian, Scarlet. Your adopted uncle…”

Brian smacked a fist onto the table. “Give me a fucking minute, hothead.” His face was red. “I’ll get there, okay?”

“You are both scaring me,” I said quietly.

Bridger forced himself to lean back against the wooden booth. Then he took both of my hands in his. “I’m sorry, Scarlet. Don’t be scared.”

But I was. Because as I studied Brian, and I had a sick feeling that I knew what he was about to say.

“Your mother,” Brian said slowly, each word painful. “She and J.P. made me sign a document as thick as the phone book that I would never tell you this. And when I do, they will try to destroy me. I agreed to keep it a secret, because I was a stupid kid, and I thought it was the right thing to do.”

The edges of my vision got a little fuzzy, because I feared hearing the next part.

Brian flexed his hands against the scarred wooden tabletop and dropped his voice. “I got your mother pregnant when we were nineteen.”

Somehow, I managed not to gasp out loud.

“…And by the time she found out about it, I was in jail.” He stared at me with wet eyes. “Sweetie…”

“So, J.P. isn’t… He’s not…?”

“J.P. is not your father. I am.”

My throat constricted so suddenly that I had trouble asking the next question. “I’m not even related to him?” Never before today had it ever occurred to me that my father was not really my father. At the edges of my shock, I could feel an oncoming wave of relief. I was having the reverse of a Star Wars moment. Darth Vader had no claim on me.

Brian shook his head. “That’s the only silver lining here.”

But the emotions were rolling over me, and it seemed they’d never stop. “But… you left me with him?”

“I know, honey. But your mother…” he closed his eyes, looking utterly exhausted. “I’m not excusing it. But it was her idea. She wanted his money, and the lifestyle. And he wanted… I never quite knew what he wanted from this deal. He wanted a family. He said he couldn’t have children. And maybe it’s even true. Now I think he just wanted to be a part of a normal-looking family. He was hiding behind you and your mother. I didn’t ask myself why he wanted this weird bargain. But for years, I thought they knew best. You were doing so well.”

“How do you know? You weren’t even there!”

“I tried,” he whispered. “But they didn’t trust me. One hockey game a year. That’s what they gave me.” Tears ran down his face. “I didn’t know he was going to hurt kids.”

“I could fucking kill you right now,” Bridger said, his voice like gravel.

“I could fucking kill me right now,” Brian spat. “This year has been… I couldn’t find her. I even came to campus here and walked around, looking for you, Sweetie. There was no Shannon Ellison in the directory.” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m so sorry. I went to your house last year, they threw me out. Their thugs threw me out. Their legal team came down on me hard. That asshole Azzan had me tailed on and off, just to be intimidating.”

“Okay,” I breathed. I could feel the stress coming off Brian in waves. I reached across the table and grabbed both his hands. “Okay. It’s okay. Some day the trial will be over.” I was telling myself just as much him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I was so young, and they convinced me that a rich athlete was a better deal for you than a broke felon.” His voice broke. “They told me I was a shit person, and I believed them.”

Reeling, I wished the world would slow down for a minute so I could catch up. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. When I came here to see you on Friday, I didn’t know if I was going to tell you this or not. Then I thought I’d wait until Bridger’s case was settled, and talk to you about the trial. But we haven’t had even a moment’s peace.”

That was certainly true.

“…But I haven’t ever stopped thinking about you. Not one single day. Your mother told me that if I made myself scarce, they would give you everything. She told this to me during prison visiting hours, honey. I sat there in my shitty orange uniform and believed her.”

It still wouldn’t quite sink in. Except that I could practically hear my mother’s voice in that story. She’d rather eat nails than have a baby out of wedlock with a criminal. My whole life, she’d made decisions based upon appearances. And she’d paid the price.

God, how depressing.

“What now?” I asked.

Brian opened his hands. “No matter what those assholes in New Hampshire try to do to me, my door is open to you. I’m finished being afraid of them.”

“I need to think,” I said, rubbing my temples with two hands. My eyes felt sandy with exhaustion. It had been the most emotional day of my life, and I didn’t even know what to say to him. “I think we should see each other again over my Christmas break,” I suggested.

His face softened. “Can we? I just hate dropping this bomb on you and then driving away. But I have to be in Massachusetts tomorrow morning. An ex-con can’t ever blow off his job. There might not be another one.”

I nodded. “I know you took time off from work to help Bridger.”

“I wanted to.” His voice was rough again. “I’m going to head home now, then. Be safe, Sweetie.” He stood up. So I did too. He stepped close to me, hugging me again just as hard as when I’d seen him in the coffee shop a few days ago. That fierce hug made even more sense now than it had then. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I truly am.”

“I know it,” I said.

Bridger held out a hand. “Thank you for everything. And I’m sorry I got a little crazy there a minute ago.”

Brian shook my boyfriend’s hand. “Bridger, you are a man who protects the people he loves. There’s nothing wrong with that. Goodnight to you both. We’ll talk soon.”

After Brian left, Bridger and I sat there a minute. “Jesus. Are you okay?” he asked me.

“I will be.” My reality had been transformed in the past few hours. It was all going to take some time to understand. But when I stood up from that booth, Bridger stood up, too. And he took my hand. Together we walked out of Capri’s, and through the streets of our college town. As we waited for a traffic light, the warm heel of his hand rested on my lower back, and I felt calm.

When I’d driven away from my childhood home on Labor Day, I’d been so alone. But I wasn’t anymore. In silence, we walked back to Beaumont. I followed Bridger up to his room, and he kissed me on the forehead at the top of the stairs.

“Sleep will help,” Bridger said, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

The moment he said it, I yawned on command.

“I’m going to tuck you into my bed,” he said. “And we’re going to watch a pointless movie on my computer.”

“God, don’t pick a drama,” I teased. “We’ve had enough of that.”

He grinned. “We are going strictly comedy for awhile. You can even choose a chick flick. As long as the couple gets naked before the credits roll, I’ll hang with it.”

We went inside his room, and I closed the door. “If you want naked people, we don’t need the movie,” I pointed out.

Bridger turned to look at me, a smile playing on his lips. “You are a smart girl, aren’t you?” He removed his sport coat, hanging it on the back of the desk chair. And then he crossed the room to me, pushing the hair back off my shoulders. He pressed his lips to my cheekbone. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He dropped tiny kisses along the side of my face. “I mean, it’s not every day that you find out that you’re your own cousin.”

I giggled into his neck. “I will be okay,” I told him, reaching up to loosen the knot in his tie. “As soon as I get your hands on me.” He yanked the tie off, and then I went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt.

We’d been alone in his room for four sad nights. We held each other, but nothing more. Now that Lucy would soon be back, I could think of no better way to use up the last few hours of privacy. I needed to stop thinking about the traumatic revelations of the day. And I wanted his skin against mine, his touch taking me out of my own head.

The gleam in Bridger’s eye as I undressed him was a thing of beauty. It made me feel powerful. He leaned in to kiss me as I pushed the shirt off his shoulders. “Patience!” I demanded, ducking out of the way. I did it just because I could. Stepping back, I eased my own shirt over my head, teasing him. And when I could see him again, that interested gleam in his eyes had ignited into full-blown desire.

He was watching me. So I skimmed my hands down my belly and drew the zipper of my jeans down slowly. “You’re killing me right now,” he said.

“Good.” I began to ease the fabric down off my hips. But before I got very far, Bridger was there, sinking to his knees in front of me, kissing the deep V of skin I’d revealed below my belly button. Holy hell, that felt good. Then he yanked down my jeans and began nuzzling me, his lips ghosting over my silk panties.

A shocked whimper escaped me. I could feel the heat of his breath on all my most sensitive places. Then he opened his mouth, and the friction of warm, wet satin against my body was almost too much. I felt my knees begin to buckle.

Strong hands clamped around my hips, and I heard a muffled chuckle. “Lie down, baby.” He set me onto the bed and then with one big tug removed my jeans and socks. “You said you wanted my hands on you,” he said. “How about my mouth?” Without waiting for an answer, he began dropping wet, open-mouthed kisses down my belly and onto my hip. I trembled with anticipation.

This wasn’t something I’d ever done before, and I wondered if maybe I’d be too self-conscious to enjoy it. But Bridger’s gentle kisses circled and teased. And when he finally landed at his intended destination, it seemed that the day’s revelations weren’t over yet. My body lit up like the Christmas tree in the center of Fresh Court, and I pushed all the day’s worries right out of my conscious mind.

An hour later, we lay collapsed together in a sweaty heap. I traced my fingers along Bridger’s ribs, feeling limp and blissed-out. I could feel his heart thumping under my ear. From next door, I could hear the muffled sounds of Andy’s TV. “I hope that fire door is thick.”

Bridger chuckled. “Will you freak out if I tell you that you’re kind of a screamer?”

My heart stuttered at the very idea. I still thought of myself as a good girl. A very good girl. In spite of a pile of evidence to the contrary. “I won’t freak out,” I said, while freaking out a little. “But I will be embarrassed, and try to reign it in.”

“That’s a shame,” Bridger said. “Because it’s really hot.”

“Do you promise?”

He rolled so that we could lie eye-to-eye. “Best. Thing. Ever,” he whispered. “You make me feel like a sexy beast.”

“You are a sexy beast.”

His eyes flared. “What would you say if I told you that the beast wanted some celebratory ice cream.”

I considered the idea. “I’d say it’s cold outside. And we’re not wearing any clothes.”

“We can get dressed and go out for dessert. When we come back, I’m going to undress you again.” He let his fingers drift down my naked back, grazing my bottom. It felt so good that I shifted suggestively against him. I couldn’t help myself. “Mmm…” Bridger said, kissing my ear. “Ice cream first. Because you’re going to need the calories. I plan to make this an all-nighter.”

I slid off of him and began hunting for my clothes. It was hard to argue with that logic, even if the only kind of all-nighter I’d ever before had was the kind where you cram for a test. Though getting naked with Bridger was certainly instructive. I felt insecure about that, too. He had so much more experience than I did. It probably showed.

“What’s that frown for?” he asked, pulling open a dresser drawer. “We can stay in if you want.”

“It’s not that,” I said with a shake of my head. “I like your idea of fun.”

Bridger grinned, and I noticed that he was fixing to go commando in his jeans. “Then what’s the matter?”

“Absolutely nothing. It’s just that I hope I… please you.”

He looked up quickly, the grin still in place. “Like you can’t tell?”

“Well…” I couldn’t really. I knew his body reacted to mine. That was obvious. But I also knew that I was still only beginning to learn all the ways there were to touch him. “I hope that if there’s some way I could improve, you’d tell me.”

He dropped a shirt back into the drawer and closed the distance between us. “Every time is better than the last,” he said, cupping my face in one of his big hands. “Don’t you ever think you’re inadequate, Scarlet. Experience isn’t important.”

“I don’t have a complex about it, Bridge. But sometimes I wonder if you used to have more fun…”

He shook his head. “That’s not how it works, although I didn’t understand that until I met you.”

“Understand what?”

He came so close to me that all I could see were those luminous green eyes. “You’re the best I ever had, Scarlet. Because I love you. When other people touched me, it felt good. But when you touch me, it feels good and it also means something. And that’s potent.”

He ducked his head to kiss the sensitive spot underneath my ear. “Mmm,” I said in appreciation.

I skimmed my hands over his bare chest, and he groaned. “Honestly,” he said. “You make me feel like a teenager again. We don’t get that many chances to be together, so I have to fantasize about you all the time.”

The idea made my skin heat. “Not tonight.”

“You’re right,” he swatted me gently on the backside. “Now put a shirt on, because I need me some Ben & Jerry’s.”

After we both dressed, and I’d brushed out my I-just-had-sex hair, Bridger tapped on Andy’s door. “You want anything from Scoops?” he called.

The door opened a few seconds later, and I made myself busy flipping through Bridger’s copy of our Music Theory textbook. As if Andy was really going to believe I’d been sitting here reading tonight.

“Are we celebrating your victory?”

“Yeah. Lucy comes back tomorrow.” Andy grinned, holding up a hand for a high five. “So. You want ice cream?”

“Sure. Can I tag along? I need to get away from this chemistry book for a few minutes.”

“Get a coat.”

With Bridger holding my hand, we went out into the chilly night. The courtyards and pathways were still. Harkness was a quiet place during exams, except for a few end-of-year festivities. “Hey, Andy? Isn’t your date with Katie tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Unless she’s changed her mind.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” I protested. “Katie is great. You have to look beyond the Barbie hair and the shiny lip gloss. There’s a really generous person under there.”

“Cool,” he said. “And speaking of generous, Hartley was looking for you earlier, Bridge.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s got the hockey team all organized. Some of them are going to help you plan a funeral, and other guys are going to help you clean out your mom’s house.”

Bridger flinched. “I don’t know if I want anyone’s help with that.”

I squeezed his hand. “Tomorrow, right? We deal tomorrow.”

“Good plan.” He squeezed back.

We were finishing our cones when my phone rang. It was my mother calling. I refused the call, but she tried again a minute later.

“Tomorrow,” Bridger murmured.

That sounded fine to me. The problem was that I’d upset the applecart by talking to the prosecutor. And if Azzan and friends didn’t like it, they might get in the car and drive here to express their displeasure in person. “I’ve got to take this. But I think I know how to get rid of them. Wish me luck.”

First, I pulled up that phone call recording app that Luke had told me about. After activating it, I answered my mother’s call.

“What have you DONE?” she screeched.

“Don’t you dare scream at me,” I said.

There was a brief silence, perhaps because my demand surprised her. “Azzan needs to speak to you. The police were back today, and he thinks you might be involved.”

“Why would he think that?” I asked, wondering what she’d say.

“I don’t know. But you will answer his questions.”

“Only if you answer mine. Mom, did you authorize Azzan to follow me and read all of my texts and emails?”

There was a pause. “Of course not.”

“Did Dad, then?”

Another pause. “No.”

“Thank you. Because having me tailed isn’t what I thought you meant when you said that family was supposed to help family.”

She ignored that. “When are you coming home for the holidays?”

“I’m not, Mom.”

Her sigh was like a fire-breathing dragon’s. “You are. And you’ll pack appropriate clothing for appearing in a courtroom.”

“None of that is going to happen…” I heard her winding up to yell, so I spoke quickly. “…And you’re going to shut up a minute and let me tell you why.” I took a deep breath. “I’m done. All I want from you is my tuition. You pay the bursar bills and leave me alone. And if you try to involve me in the case, I’m giving an interview to the New York Times.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And the first thing I’d tell them was that you lied to me for my entire life.”

On the other end of the line, my mother gasped. “I’ll kill him.”

“You can’t. Because I figured it out for myself. I read the newspaper too, Mom.” I was ad libbing this part. But I could tell that she was freaking out well enough to believe me. “One of the longer articles talked about Brian. It mentioned adoption. There was a picture, too. And my boyfriend said ‘you look just like your uncle.’”

I glanced up at Bridger. He was watching me, admiration on his face.

“I put it together myself,” I lied. Even though I was still upset with Brian for his part in the deception, I didn’t need to throw him under the bus to make my point. “I’m sure the newspaper would be very interested in those facts. It really speaks to Dad’s credibility, you know?”

“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice broken.

“Okay,” I said, my own voice rock steady. “Just let me be a student, and don’t expect to hear from me. Now give the phone to Azzan.”

For a minute I didn’t hear anything at all. A couple of hundred miles away, my mother was having either a breakdown or a strategy session. Just when I was about ready to hang up, the Asshole of the Year came on the line.

“Shannon,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Brrr!” I said, giving him the buzzer. “Try again. You want to talk to me, use my name.”

“You little bitch.”

“That’s not it either.” By now I must have completely lost my mind. Because talking back was starting to be fun. “Azzan, it’s illegal to track somebody’s phone messages without their consent. And it’s illegal to threaten my boyfriend to keep me under your thumb.”

“Now you’re just whining,” he said. “Tell me what happened today. Why were you inside an office building on South Street?”

“If you want to know, I need you to apologize.”

In the silence that followed, I could practically feel the waves of aggression coming at me through the ether. “I do my job,” he spat.

That wasn’t good enough for my purposes. I needed to get him to cop to some of the crap he’d been pulling on me. “You do it illegally,” I tried.

“I was never going to plant drugs in your boyfriend’s dormitory room, you little bitch. And good luck proving that I said it.”

Yes! I shot out of my chair, grinning like a maniac. Across from me, Bridger raised an eyebrow. But I could probably get him to say even more. “There’s no way for you to know where I was this afternoon.”

“Your parents pay for your phone. If they installed some tracking software on it, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Interesting,” I said. Because my mother had blown that theory, and I had it on tape. “Well, it’s been fun talking to you tonight. But I’m afraid we’re not going to keep having these chats. Ask my mother — she’ll tell you why.”

I disconnected the call and then stared at the recording app. I’d tested it ten days ago, but only once.

“What’s going on?” Bridger asked.

“Hang on. I can probably show you.” A few seconds later, the app chimed. Recording Saved, the screen read. I tapped the “share” button, and shared the call with Bridger. “Can you check your email? I need to know if this worked.”

He took out his phone and tapped it. “What do I do? Follow this link?”

“Yeah.”

He waited, and thirty seconds later I heard something. Bridger tapped “speaker” and then my mother’s voice came from the phone, denying that she’d authorized my electronic tail.

Bridger and Andy listened to the whole thing, wincing whenever Azzan called me a bitch. But when it was over, Bridger grinned. “You are sneaky.”

I paced the ice cream place, too amped up to sit down. “Don’t cross me this week, guys. Because I’m kicking ass and taking names.” Then I “shared” the conversation I’d recorded with Azzan, and also with my techie friend Luke. Then I put on my coat and practically skipped back to Beaumont beside Bridger and Andy.

That night, I had the familiar dream again. But this time, it played out a little differently. The puck disappeared into a dark place. And when I skated over to retrieve it, the hole had transformed. This time, there were two rectangular doors in the ice. In the dream, I knew it was urgent that I get them open. But there were no handles on the doors.

And I was afraid of the sounds coming from within.

“Shh,” Bridger said into my ear.

My eyes flew open. It was dark, and I was naked in his bed. “Sorry,” I gasped.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You were dreaming.”

I gave my heart rate a minute to descend back into the normal range. “Bridge? I think I might need to tell the prosecution what I think I heard,” I said. “That means I might end up in that damned courtroom after all.”

“Shh,” my boyfriend said, curling his warm body around mine. “Sleep now, worry later.”

“Okay,” I whispered. He kissed my shoulder, and I pushed the scary thoughts out of my mind. I focused instead on his soft breathing, and the feel of his skin against my back.

I must have fallen asleep again. Because the next thing I knew, sunlight poured through Bridger’s windows, and someone was knocking on the fire door.

“Hey guys?” came Andy’s voice. “I think you need to take a look at the news. I have the TV on.”

“Argf,” Bridger said.

But Andy had my attention. So I rolled off Bridger’s bed and pulled on my clothes. “Can I come in?” I asked, tapping on Andy’s door.

“Sure.”

I stepped into his room. A news channel played on mute on the screen. But a ticker strip at the bottom of the screen read: Shocking new physical evidence discovered underground. J.P. Ellison Takes Guilty Plea Bargain. Gets 25 Years.

“Oh my God,” I said, staring at the screen.

“Wow.” Bridger came up behind me, his hands landing on my shoulders. “What does that mean?”

“No criminal trial,” I said. “And he’ll lose the civil suits. I need to get a job. And I have to do the summer term at Harkness.”

“Why?”

“I need to get as many credits as I can before he loses everything.”

“Welcome to my world,” Bridger said, kissing the back of my head.

“There’s always financial aid,” Andy said.

“I know,” I said. “Somehow, it will work out. I’ve thought about this a lot. Mostly I’m glad that he earned all that money in the NHL. It isn’t exactly blood money.”

“The settlement would protect your tuition money, wouldn’t it?” Andy asked.

“I have no clue. And I can’t count on anyone giving me a straight answer.”

“Come on,” Bridger said, tugging on my hand. “Breakfast now. Worry later.”

“Last night you said that worrying was back on in the morning.”

He pinched my backside. “The day starts after breakfast. And I get to eat it in the dining hall like a real student, because Lucy is on her way to school right now with Amy. The dining hall makes omelets to order, and I want one.”

“Do you get to pick Lucy up today?” I asked, following him back into his room.

“Yes ma’am. After my meeting with the graduate housing office.”

“Can I drive you both out to the foster parents’ home later to pick up her things?”

“That would be awesome. Now let’s go have ourselves an omelet.”