When we part, he tells me he’ll get in touch if he has any further questions. Given the scrawled notes he took are illegible, I won’t hold my breath.
From there, I go straight to my next uncomfortable meeting. Bradley Hewson, Sierra’s foster father, sits in the back booth of a pizza restaurant, holding a sailboat of a menu in front of his face like he’s hiding behind it. When I take a seat, he barely glances at me. “Are you going to stay civil long enough for us to have lunch, or should I order mine to go?”
Not if he talks to me like that, I’m not, but I grit my teeth against the urge to blurt out an immediate retort, settling for a tight nod instead. “Go ahead and order.”
I hate needing this man. As if the social workers who oversee the meetings between me and Sierra weren’t bad enough, now I’m forced to ingratiate myself with this shallow worm just to find out how she is. I set my jaw. If I have any teeth left at the end of this ordeal, I’ll be ecstatic.
“How’s Sierra doing?”
“You know, it’s only been eighteen months since I sat across from you, and you promised you wouldn’t put a foot wrong if I only gave you another chance.”
“Then you forced me to go to court anyway,” I point out, pouring water for myself with shaking hands. I offer to pour for him, too, but he waves away the gesture.
“It wasn’t me. Sierra had her own lawyer, and he’s the one who insisted on having the court decide.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I notice it’s receded from the last time I saw him. Good.
“What’s going on?”
He raises his eyebrows, cold eyes calculating my reaction to determine how much information to feed me. God, he makes my skin crawl. I can’t believe any system in its right mind would grant him rights over my sister.
Not that our care system is in its right mind. If it was, I wouldn’t be sitting here, Sierra’s closest relative, with no idea of what’s curtailed my few visitation rights.
“A boy in Sierra’s class got beaten up in a nearby park.”
“And?”
Bradley slumps in his seat, signalling to the server. When she arrives, he gives her an impossibly long order that rewrites the menu into something entirely different. When she tries to point out that fact, he cuts her off. Fixing her with such a glare, she decides it’s easier to entertain his wishes than stand and fight.
By the time the waitress collects the menu and walks away to place the order, she appears exhausted.
Don’t blame her. Bradley’s always been hard work. Carla too, but at least with her, I understand how much of her causticness stems from protective feelings for my sister.
Unfortunately, those same urges are why I can’t reason with her. Hence,Bradley.
“Are we really going to do this?” he asks.
My confusion kicks up a notch. “I want to see Sierra.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you beat a child black and blue. The poor kid’s terrified.”
“I didn’t—” I break off, shaking my head. Protestations won’t matter. At least now I know what I’m dealing with. It brings a small measure of relief.
“What?” he says as my silence spins into discomfort. “Aren’t you going to issue a slew of denials?”
“Doesn’t matter. You never believe me anyway.” I shift in my seat, the cheap faux leather sticking to the exposed skin of my thighs. I thought a skirt would be a nice concession to Bradley’s outdated views on propriety, but I don’t think it’s made a damn bit of difference except to leave me feeling less comfortable. “What do I need to do to see her again?”
He gives a shrug that makes me want to jam a fork deep into his throat. “Impress her case worker. That’s what we did.” He arches an eyebrow and rolls a lingering gaze over me. Even at this distance, it feels like he’s leaving behind a small trail of slime. “Of course, you might’ve left that a bit late.”
“You know I’d never hurt Sierra.”
“Not purposely,” he concedes as though it genuinely pains him. “But you have a habit of accidentally causing her harm, so your intentions don’t really matter.”
“How have I—?”
“D’you know the boy’s parents are placing pressure on the school to expel her? Can you imagine that on her record? Just turned ten and already collecting demerits. And for what? So you could prove that you can save her from a bully?”
“Someone had to.”
“We were working with the school to address his behaviour. Now all that groundwork has gone to waste.” He sits back as the server brings out his speciality pizza. The toppings are such a confused mess, I give up trying to identify them once I get past the jalapeno and pineapple. The guy has even less taste than I thought. “But it’s good you’re admitting to beating that little shit. At least we can both agree he deserved it.”
