I think it sounds like the secret identity of a superhero. I grab the diaper and the roll of paper towels on the ground. I don’t see any baby wipes.
Stanley won’t stop crying, and I’m worried she’s going to hurt him if I can’t get him to be quiet.
“Shh, shh, baby. Don’t cry. I’m going to change your diaper now. Here, you like superheroes? My favorite is Spider-Man.” I pull the little figurine out of my pants pocket and place it in his tiny fingers.
He’s still crying, but he shoves the toy in his mouth. It’s plastic, so I can rinse it off later. I do my best to clean his butt with the paper towels without getting any poop on my hands. I use half the roll, and his butt is red from me wiping it so much, but he’s finally clean.
I wrap the new diaper around him, securing it with the little Velcro flaps. “There you go, buddy. You’re as good as new.”
Stanley has finally stopped crying. He’s eyeing me curiously while chewing on Spider-Man. I lift him up in my arms, smiling at the new foster mom. I think she’ll like me more after this, and maybe she’ll be nicer to Stanley if I can keep his diapers clean.
She glares at me. “Throw the old one away before someone steps in it. And do it outside so I don’t have to smell it.”
My chest feels tight. I do as told, laying Stanley down on the scratchy carpet while I throw the old diaper away and wash my hands in the kitchen sink.
I wipe away my tears as soon as they fall, missing my mama more than ever now. She wasn’t perfect, but poor babies like Stanley don’t even get to have a real mom at all.
I go back into the living room, picking him up off the floor and balancing him on my hip. “You’re okay, buddy. You got me now. We can be brothers. I always wanted a brother.”
My vision blurs,and I turn to walk out of the barn before I get sick in front of them. A burst of cold wind whips across my cheeks.
I took care of Stanley for seven months until they found my grandparents. I begged the social worker to let me bring Stanley with me. I cried for months after leaving that house. It was a miserable hellhole with kids going in and out constantly and a foster mom who took on way too many at once for the money.
I press my forehead to the side of the barn, letting the cool metal seep into my skin. My grandmother actually did look for Stanley when I opened up to her about him. But he wasn’t up for adoption. His parents were young teens, and he was only in the system because they were caught under the influence while driving with him in the back seat as a newborn. They were fighting to get him back, so he wasn’t eligible for adoption.
Holden comes outside and stands behind me. I shut my eyes, trying not to vomit. I stand up straight and turn to face him.
“What was that?” His face is grim. He’s looking at me like a concerned brother.
I look down at my hands, still coated in blood. He silently waits for me to answer.
“I knew him when I was in foster care. He was a baby. We were placed in the same home for a few months before the state found my grandparents.”
Holden’s brows shoot up. “Holy shit. So, he really is only nineteen.”
I nod. “I was seven, and he was around one back then, so yeah.”
He shakes his head. “He couldn’t have been behind all this on his own while pretending to be interested in dating Dolly.”
“Someone is helping him.”
He nods. “And now we have to figure out how to find them.”
A lead ball settles in my stomach. “Which means she’s not safe alone.”
I start walking toward my truck. He grabs my arm.
“I’ll call Sterling and warn him. Go shower before you go to the hospital. You’ll scare her like this.”
He pulls out his phone and places it against his ear. I pause to listen to their conversation.
“Hey, we think Ben was working with someone. Yeah, the kid’s only nineteen. Just be aware because he probably knows where she is.” He kicks a rock with his foot, lifting his eyes back to my face. “Yeah, Sam is gonna be on his way in five. We’ll keep questioning him, and I’ll have a background check run on him, find out whatever we can.”
I grit my teeth, wondering how we could’ve possibly been chasing Cain’s nineteen-year-old son, who was also my foster brother, all this time without knowing it.
I need to get to Dolly.
The visceral need is all that’s driving me now. I need to see her with my own two eyes and know that she’s okay.
