“Sure,” Marcus said, a happy smile crossing his face.
Cody came down a few minutes later, and they settled into the living room. Roan put onThe Grinch, and the boys seemed to forget their troubles for a moment. By the time the movie ended and they’d eaten the lasagna, it was almost ten.
“All right, bed time for you two,” Roan said.
Both boys groaned but got up without argument. They trudged upstairs, and Roan followed a few minutes later with two glasses of water.
He found them in their room, already in the beds. Marcus was curled up on his side under the blanket, and Cody was on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Brought you some water,” Roan said, setting the glasses on the dresser next to the bunk beds.
“Thanks,” Marcus mumbled.
Roan sat cross-legged on the floor near the edge of the beds. “You guys doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Cody said.
“It’s weird sleeping in a real bed,” Marcus said. “Like, a good weird.”
“What do you mean?” Roan asked. “How long has it been since you slept in a bed?”
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. “The place I was staying—they had me in this room in the attic. Not really a room, actually. More like a space in between a bunch of junk and a sleeping bag. But then they told me to leave and I had no place to go. Last night I slept in the alley behind your gym.”
Roan’s blood went cold. “What?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t think what else to do.” He pulled the blanket tighter. “The alley seemed safe. There’s that dumpster that blocks the wind, and I had my backpack to put under my head.”
“Marcus.” Roan’s voice came out rough. “It was below freezing last night.”
“I know. I was really cold. But I kept thinking at least I was close to the gym. That you’d be there in the morning and I could come in and get warm.”
Roan felt like he’d been punched in the chest. This kid—this sweet, quiet kid—had spent last night sleeping in an alley in December, freezing, alone, because he had nowhere else to go.
“You never have to do that again,” Roan said. “You hear me? Never.”
Marcus’s eyes filled with tears. “Okay.”
Roan turned to Cody. “What’s going on at your house? Did something happen?”
Cody was quiet for so long Roan thought he wasn’t going to answer. “The Pattersons have a real kid. Their son. Devon. He’s sixteen. And …”
“And?” Roan asked.
“He … he hates having foster kids in the house. Says we take up his space, his parents’ time, that we’re only there so his parents can get checks from the state.” Cody’s hands twisted in the blanket. “He’s stronger than me. A lot stronger. And when Mr. and Mrs. Patterson aren’t around, he pushes me. Hits me sometimes. Pins me against the wall. Tells me he’s going to make me sorry I’m there. That’s why I thought maybe if I could get stronger, maybe I could fight back.”
Roan felt rage building in his chest, hot and dangerous. “How badly has he hurt you?”
“He shoved me in the yard and I fell on a rock. My head bled a little.” Cody touched the back of his head. “It’s mostly gone now.”
Bled a little. Good God.“Did you tell the Pattersons?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Patterson said Devon was just playing around. That boys are rough with each other. That I need to toughen up and not be so sensitive.” Cody’s voice dropped. “She’s his mom. She’s never going to believe me over him.”
The biological son versus the foster kid. Of course Mrs. Patterson dismissed it. She was protecting her own child.
“That’s not all right,” Roan said, his voice tight. “That’s not playing around. That’s bullying. That’s assault.”
“I know. But what am I supposed to do? If I make a big deal about it, they’ll just say I’m causing problems. That I’m ungrateful. And they’ll move me somewhere else. At least, at the Pattersons, I know what to expect. The next place could be worse.”
