I stared down at the piece of paper in my hand, reading it again and again until the words started to blur.
Temporary emergency custody granted to Riot St. James of the minors Knox St. James, aged ten, Wynter Azarian, aged six, Rebel St. James, eleven months, and Rumor St. James, eleven months.
There was more, obviously, but that was the only part that mattered. I hadn’t thought it was gonna happen. After Mom had been arrested again and Rumor had ended up in the hospital, I’d thought that would be it. They weren’t gonna give custody to an eighteen-year-old kid who’d barely graduated high school. I had been preparing myself to fight for it for years. Pretty much since the moment I’d gotten out of the hospital at sixteen and we’d all ended up back with Mom, since Aren had been in jail and was “no longer a threat.”
Still, I hadn’t thought I was ready. That was why I hadn’t moved out yet and instead had saved every scrap I could manage for an apartment. My plan had been to find one this year, since I’d finally graduated, and then start the process to prove I was the better option for the four kids than my mom or foster care.
But then Mom had gotten high as fuck and snatched Rumor right out of his fucking crib, stolen a damn car, and crashed. After the scariest few days of my life, he’d finally stabilized and would be okay, but that had been the end of tolerating her bullshit. Never fucking again.
They’d put Wynter, Knox, and Rebel in foster care while Rumor healed and I filed for custody. I actually had a decent social worker, and he helped me find a safe but affordable place to live. All three of my bosses had written up recommendations, vouching that I was responsible and all that. I had a plan in place for childcare. They’d spoken to Wynter and Knox several times, and basically everyone else I’d ever met. I’d been terrified they’d keep the kids in the system, say they were better off than with trailer trash like me, but they hadn’t. The truth was, this county was way too short on resources, so they couldn’t be picky. I was officially their guardian. It was temporary, and the social workers would probably be up my ass, but I could bring my siblings home and they would stay with me. They wouldn’t be separated and thrown into some group home or with a foster family who only cared about their check.
And I’d work my ass off to keep it that way. I’d save up for a real lawyer and eventually get permanent custody so they’d never end up in a foster home again or, worse, back with our mom. I knew it would be hard as fuck, but it would be worth it. I would give the kids a normal childhood, whatever that meant. I didn’t have a fucking clue where to begin, except what not to do, and I guessed that was as good a place as any to start.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my best pants. The social worker, Michael, had bought them for me so I wouldn’t have to wear my worn jeans with holes in them or one of my work uniforms to the hearing.
I couldn’t stop smiling when I saw Koa’s name pop up. He’d been my best friend since middle school. The only personwho really knew what had happened in that house and what Mom and her string of guys had really been like. We’d been inseparable ever since he’d moved in with his aunt and uncle after his parents had died.
But my heart twisted even as I answered his call. Because my best friend was a fucking awesome football player who’d scored a full scholarship to USC, completely across the fucking country, so we’d soon be very separated. I was so happy for him, he’d worked his ass off and deserved it, but fuck if it didn’t tear me up inside, thinking about how far apart we were about to be.
“So?” he asked before I even said hi.
Koa wanted to be here, but he had a meeting with his coach and management from USC so he couldn’t make the hearing. He’d offered to reschedule, but I wouldn’t let him. I had to stop being so fucking dependent on him. I’d never survive otherwise.
“They granted it. It’s temporary for now, but they’re mine, Koa. Mike and I are going to pick them up.” I swallowed, pushing back the emotion that was threatening to well up. I had to keep it together. I couldn’t lose it. Not till they were all back at the apartment and safe. “I-I’m not gonna fuck this up, Ko. They’re not going back.”
“Fuck no, they’re not. You’re the best thing for them. I’m so proud of you, Riot.”
There he went, making me almost cry again. Koa was the only person who ever said he was proud of me. I’d become addicted to that praise, but I had to get over it. He was gonna be busy all the time, and on Pacific time. I wouldn’t be able to talk to him every day. Which was fine. I had three jobs and four mouths to feed. I would be too busy to miss Koa too much. Right?
“T-thanks.”
“I’m out of my meeting. Where are you headed first? I’ll meet you there.”
Fuck. My eyes were burning. “You don’t hafta do that.”
“I know. I want to. You know I love those kids. I want to see their faces when you pick them up.”
I scratched at my skin, feeling out of sorts. In the past, it wouldn’t even be a question. I wanted Koa with me for everything. All the time. But now . . . shouldn’t we be working on carving some space between us? Setting boundaries?
“Besides.” Koa’s voice dropped, getting serious. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Something was wrong. I knew all of Koa’s tones, and that was his “I have bad news to tell you” one.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the meeting?”
“Nothing. Or well, nothing to worry about right now. Let’s get the kids, and then we’ll talk, okay? This is something we gotta celebrate. Everything else can wait.”
“Yeah, okay.” I quickly gave Koa the address and then hung up before I tried to push him for an answer he wasn’t ready to give. I had to trust him that the news could wait, and I had to put my focus on getting the kids and getting them settled because they weren’t going anywhere, not ever again.
POV: Koa
Half An Hour Earlier
I sat in the hard plastic chair in my coach’s office next to Aunt Leilani and Uncle Matthew. It was loud in here. Stuffy. Made it hard to breathe.
I knew I should be listening. They were talking about my future after all. The scholarship that would determine if I could go to USC and play football or not. They were talking about the injury I was still rehabbing and if I was worth the wait. It was important, so fucking important, and I should care. I should want them to tell me I still had the spot I’d fought so hard to get.
But as much as I tried, I just couldn’t focus. My mind was completely on Riot. I should be there for him as he fought to get custody of the kids. Instead, I was here, planning for a future where I left Riot and went across the country to play fucking football.
