She’s calmer now. Still sharp. Still loud. But lighter.
Alive.
And safe.
“The police in their search of Chad’s house found receipts that Abi rented a storage unit. Said the storage unit had everything,” Penelope murmurs. “Photos. Ledgers. Emails. Enough evidence to lock Jensen away for the rest of his life.”
“And enough to change your father’s death to a homicide and to lead them to Todd’s body,” Gideon adds.
“She thought Jensen was her ride-or-die,” Minxy says, twirling her pencil. “Guess he was more ride-or-definitely-die-later.”
Silas gives her a look, but she smirks and steals another sip of coffee.
The nightmare is over.
Now we figure out the life after.
Gideon closes the last file. “Social worker and CASA will be here at three. They’ll present all the options.”
Minxy frowns. “What’s CASA?”
“Court Appointed Special Advocates,” Gideon says. “They’re volunteers trained to speak up for kids in foster or protective cases. Their whole job is to make sure the judge knows whatyouwant and what’s best for you—not what the system finds easiest.”
Silas nods. “Basically someone whose only loyalty is to you. Don’t worry though you’re not getting shipped anywhere you don’t want to be.”
“I know,” she says, softly. “I believe you.”
My chest tightens.
Penelope squeezes my hand. “You have choices, Minx. Real ones.”
Minxy looks at each of us—Silas, Gideon, me, then Penelope, with eyes that carry every bruise she lived through and every spark she’s rekindling.
“You four are insane,” she says. “But you’re my insane. I don’t want to lose that.”
Gideon smirks. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Silas drapes an arm around her shoulders. “You can stay with us, kid.”
“Or with just one of us,” Gideon adds.
“Or we can rotate,” I say. “Whatever’s healthiest. Whatever the state agrees to.”
Minxy rolls her eyes. “I know what I want. It’s not that deep.”
Penelope laughs, biting her lip. “She’s honest, I’ll give her that.”
“Runs in the family,” I mutter.
Silas leans back, stretching his arm across the couch behind Minxy. “Whatever the process looks like, she’s not going anywhere alone.”
“And she’s starting school fresh,” Penelope says proudly. “A whole new beginning.”
Minxy grins. “Freshman year’s gonna be lit.”
I snort, Gideon groans, and Silas mutters something about teenagers being feral.
This—this noise, this banter, this ease feels like a home we built ourselves.
