“For now,” Oscar murmurs. He looks exhausted, but he doesn’t stop scanning the words in front of him, as if double-checking. “Abrams is working on a short to medium term plan. Things we can test. Scenarios, to try to nudge her into different behaviours. The more we can prove, the better we can make it for her.”
Reaching forward, I carefully tug the papers from his hands. “You need to sleep, Oz.”
Oscar stares down at his empty hands. He blinks once. Slowly. “I… no. I’m fine.”
No, he’s not. “You haven’t stopped. I haven’t seen you eat anything in days.”
I switch my gaze from Oscar to Theo. He’s watching Oscar too. “You said it yourself. This could be… years.”
My throat threatens to close. “We can’t run ourselves into the ground in the first few weeks. Not when we need to be there for Kenny. There’s four of us in this pack, Oz. We can share the load.”
Slowly, Theo nods. “I can go through the paperwork. Double check everything, if that’s what you need.”
Oscar debates it. I can almost see the gears whirring. “I’ll grab a few hours, and then I’ll be back.”
He needs more than a few hours, but neither of us argue as he hauls himself up. His footsteps are heavy as he leaves.
Theo sighs. “I’ll do better, Jake. You’re right. Pass me that.”
Silently, I give him half the paperwork, and we settle in. It’s a combination of care arrangements, medication and care arrangements that make my jaw tighten further with every line.
Theo’s low curse has me looking up. “What?”
He’s reading rapidly, his lips moving. “My father paid for her to stay for three months. After that, we’ll need to find the money.”
And it’s been a month already. “How much is it?”
The number he lists makes the blood run cold in my veins.
We’re not rich. None of us, not really. Theo’s father might have it, but I know without asking that Theo would rather crawl over broken glass than speak to him, and I don’t blame him. When I see Charles Rivers, it’ll make what I did to the Center worker look like a warm fucking hug.
Theo flips the page over, grabbing a pen. I watch as he scribbles across the page, the furrow between his eyes deepening before he pulls out his phone, flicking through it.
I sit back in my chair, my eyes traveling around the kitchen.
Home. Our home, for our pack.
But if Kenny’s not here, what’s the fucking point?
“I could sell this place,” I test the words, letting them out into the air. “We could get something cheaper. That’d make things easier.”
It would buy us time to help her.
Theo’s head shoots up. His voice is hard. “No. This is yourhome, Jake. From your mom.”
But my mom’s not here anymore. I found her on the floor barely a foot away, screamed at the emergency workers to keep trying even as they shook their heads with pity in their eyes.
The way I screamed today, as Kenny’s heart stopped beating.
And I know my mom would understand.
The shake of my head is slow. “It’s not justmyhome. It’s ours now. It’s Kenny’s, Theo. But it’s just a house. It’s not as important as the people inside it.”
This is something I can do.
“She needs a home to come back to,” Theo says quietly. “If you sell, it means we think she’s not coming back. Do you think she’s coming home?”
I jerk. God, the thought hurts. “I hope so.”
