Adrian’s eyes widen behind me.
I let out a laugh that doesn’t carry any humor. “Adopt me?” I repeat. “I’m eighteen.”
“You’re eighteen and eligible to continue your education,” Jake responds, stepping forward slightly. There’s urgency beneath his composure now. “Stephanie and I live in Spokehaven. There is a university there. Opportunities. A chance to start over.”
“University?” I shake my head slowly. “I’m leaving one institution. The last thing I need is another one dressed up with better landscaping.”
Stephanie finally speaks again, her voice calm and even. “It wouldn’t be a prison, Silas. It would be a home.”
The word lingers in the air longer than it should.
Home.
I haven’t allowed that word to exist without irony attached to it in years.
“Might I remind you,” the Warden says quietly, stepping closer to me, lowering his voice so it feels personal, “that your past offenses may be viewed in a more forgiving light if clear progress is demonstrated. Environment plays a significant role in perception.”
“Like St. Augustine?” Adrian says, the skepticism in his voice thick enough to cut. He lifts his cane and points toward the broken bed frame across the room, where one corner still sags from when Henry decided to use it as a punching bag during withdrawal last winter.
He doesn’t stop there.
“St. Augustine Home for Troubled Youth,” he continues, his tone turning theatrical. “Fostering minds, cripples, andwithdrawal fits when Henry decides his mattress offended him. Five stars. Highly recommend.”
The sarcasm hangs heavy in the air. I don’t stop him. I never do.
The Warden’s face tightens, a sheen of sweat beginning to gather along his hairline. He opens his mouth, clearly prepared with something polished and defensive.
“I can assure you two, what Adrian is saying-”
“Is entirely true,” Jake interrupts calmly.
The Warden’s jaw snaps shut.
Jake doesn’t look at him when he continues. He’s looking at me.
“Which is exactly why I’m here,” he says, his voice steady now. “I should have done more when your father disappeared with you. I should have looked harder. I should have questioned things sooner. I didn’t. That’s on me.”
The room grows quieter at that. Even the Warden seems unsure whether to interject again.
Jake takes a breath, slower this time. “When your dad went off the grid, he shut everyone out. I tried to reach him. He wouldn’t answer. Then there were rumors. Then there was the incident. By the time I understood how bad it had gotten, you were already gone. Moved. Buried in paperwork.”
He swallows before continuing.
“The least I can do now is make sure his son doesn’t stay buried.”
I don’t respond immediately. My pulse has picked up, but I keep my expression flat. He’s good. He knows how to speak without sounding like he’s begging.
Stephanie steps forward then, her presence softer but no less intentional.
“We have a daughter,” she says gently. “She came from a home very much like yours. She was one of my students. Quiet and brilliant. We brought her home when she was fourteen.”
There’s no pity in her tone. No condescension.
“We’ve had her four years now,” she continues. “And I won’t pretend it was easy. It wasn’t. There were broken things. Yelling. Nights when she didn’t trust us. But she stayed. And she’s still with us.”
Her eyes meet mine fully.
“I know how impossible this sounds to you. I know what this place teaches you to expect from adults. But we’re not here because we want a project. We’re here because we want you to have a choice.”
