To Finn’s credit, he doesn’t argue or question. He leads us up two floors and through the maze of the hospital corridors, walking us right by the nurse’s station and a group of doctors, not stopping until we’re outside a room where Mr. Baker meets us with a woman wearing a Child Protective Services badge.
“Hello, Miss Carmichael.” Mr. Baker offers a weary smile. “This is Mrs. Lorang, the CPS social worker assigned to your sister’s case.”
My sister. Well, that’s going to take some getting used to.
Mrs. Lorang looks me over like she finds me lacking, and honestly, I can’t say I blame her. I feel lacking in every possible way at the moment. I probably shouldn’t tell her I’ve never held a baby before. “What have you been told, Miss Carmichael?”
“I filled her in on Kyrie’s status,” Finn offers, and the look Mrs. Lorang gives him could freeze fire, it’s so frigid.
“And who are you?”
“Dr. Finnegan Murphy,” he tells her, daring her to question him.
Pretty sure if they both whipped it out to measure who’s bigger, Mrs. Lorang would win. She dismisses Finn with a flick of her eyes and focuses on me. “So you’re aware your sister needs to be placed with a temporary guardian?”
Aware—yes.
Prepared—no.
But I don’t tell her that. My sister, who I never even knew existed, is on the other side of that door, and no one but me is walking out of here with her.
“Yes, I’m aware. And I’m assuming since you’ve brought me here as her only living family, I can take her with me?” I ask, trying to sound as arrogant as Finn but failing miserably.
“Do you live in the state, Miss?—”
“Ashton, please,” I stop her, shaking my head. “My name is Ashton.”
That seems to soften Mrs. Lorang, who finally looks at me with something like kindness instead of disgust. I cannot even imagine the hell this woman must see every day or the strength it must take to do what she does. “Ashton, do you have somewhere to stay while we get this figured out?”
Shit.
I open my mouth to answer, unsure of what to say, when Finn does it for me. “She’s staying with me as long as she’s in Kroydon Hills.”
“And you are?” Mrs. Lorang asks again like Finn hadn’t just told her before clarifying, “Who are you to Miss—to Ashton?”
“A good friend, with plenty of room in his home.” Finn takes my hand in his and squeezes.
“We’ll have to do a home study. You’ll have to become a licensed resource by the state,” Mrs. Lorang warns, and I nod.
“What does that entail?” I ask, my head spinning.
“Bi-monthly home visits. Foster parent classes. Medical appointments. We’re going to come out to inspect your home. Make sure the child has proper sleeping arrangements. Food. Working utilities.” My heart sinks to think that some children don’t have those things.
Did my sister have that before now? Did Mom?
“And if I want to take her out of state?” I ask, trying to figure out how to move my life here from Chicago.
“That isn’t ideal. We prefer you be in-state,” she tells me as she moves to the door, dismissing the question. “Are you ready to meet Kyrie?”
I look at Finn, the wordnoon the tip of my tongue, when I hear a cry on the other side of the door and move as if on autopilot. I slide past Mrs. Lorang into the room where a nurse is bent over a crib, and my heart catches in my throat.
A baby girl with big, fat tears clinging to her long lashes cries, her entire body shaking. A tiny tuft of golden-blonde hair is held back by a big pink bow headband. The kind you see on newborns. Fat tears cling to her lashes and tiny pink lips shake, breaking my heart.
“How old did you say she is?” I ask softly as I watch the nurse listen to Kyrie’s heartbeat. She’s so small.
“Three months,” Finn answers as he moves behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder, giving me his strength when I feel like I have none left to give. “She looks like you.”
“She does not.” I smile. She looks like a perfect little doll. “She looks like Evan.”
