“Okay. I just . . .” My voice fades off as I shake my head and try to figure where to go with this conversation when I was so sure of my knee-jerk reaction two minutes ago. “Why step forward now?”
“Opportunity? Obligation?” He fishes for the right answer when I know deep down it’s none other than a self-serving agenda.
“Zander called me, Teddy. He’s scared to death.” And I am too.
“I know he is, Rylee, but this is what we strive for. To find good homes for these boys and give them the life they deserve. I know you’re close to him and worry but social services is doing their job and vetting this couple—”
“Not just any couple,” I say, incredulity in my voice, “but his uncle who used to be a hardcore drug addict. They want money.” There’s no other reason in my mind that someone would ignore their own flesh and blood for almost seven years and then suddenly want him.
“We don’t know that. People can change.” The laugh I give in response is so full of disbelief that it doesn’t even sound like my own. My stomach tightens and acid churns in my gut.
They don’t love him. So many thoughts race and circle but that’s the one I cling to the most.
“Perhaps, but I’m a little leery of accepting he wants more than just the monthly living subsidy that comes along with fostering Zander. It’s been so long Teddy, and voila, he sees a picture on TV of Zander and me, and all of a sudden he feels this deep-seated need to be an uncle again? I don’t buy it.”
It’s bullshit is what it is.
His audible sigh is heard through the line. I feel my stress levels rising, not great for the blood pressure, no doubt. “Let’s just see what happens, shall we? They’re going to have a monitored visitation, see how things fare, and go from there.”
“But Zander doesn’t want to,” I shout.
“Of course not, Ry. It’s scary for him, but this is our job. Get them back with a family unit, and have the most normal life possible.”
“I still don’t believe for a minute that Zander’s best interest is on anyone’s mind but mine.”
“I take offense to that, Rylee, and am going to chalk it up to you being upset.” The stern warning is noted and yet a part of me doesn’t care. “Trust me to do my job.”
“Yes, sir,” I state, trying to contain the sneer in my voice that I feel in regard to the reprimand. “I’m upset, Teddy, because he’s upset and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”
“I know, kiddo. And that’s why you’re their number-one advocate. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation. Now I’ve got to go before Mallory gets in a tizzy that I’m working on a Sunday.”
“I’m sorry for bugging you,” I apologize, acknowledging that he has a life to lead beyond the boys. Just like I do. I recall Colton’s words about how I need to start taking care of our family too.
I blow out a breath as I sink down into the chair behind the desk and try to process the past ten minutes.
And I don’t think any amount of time will help any of it make sense.
If someone steps forward and wants him because they love him, wants to give him a traditional home life with the white picket fence and Zander falls in love with them back, I’ll be all for it. One hundred percent. But the scared tone and the broken waver in his voice scream unease and fear. They tell me so much more than any words could ever express.
Everything is tumbling out of control so fast around me and there is absolutely nothing I can do short of take him as my own. And as appealing as that sounds, then that would mean I’d leave six other boys to feel like I chose him over them. And I’d never do that. I love them all.
I clutch my stomach as a sharp pain contracts around it and tell myself to breathe deeply and try to calm down. The problem is that I know calm is not a damn option anymore, because it seems lately, everyone is out for something.
And that makes me worry how exactly I’m going to bring a baby into this world, and be able to protect him or her as fiercely as I’d like.
“Ry? Are you coming?” Haddie’s voice breaks through the haze of disbelief and concern that weigh down my every thought.
“Be right there,” I say. I’d much rather sit here and try to figure out what I can do to make this all right again.
“And it seems Donavan can do no wrong on the track this season, Larry. Let’s just hope all of his extra-curricular activity off it doesn’t prevent him from finishing strong here today,” the television broadcaster says as the camera pans to a wide shot of Colton’s car on pit row with the crew standing around it. I blanch at the commentator’s statement, but my skin is getting thicker and thicker with each passing day.
It doesn’t make it any easier but rather more my new normal. And I’m not really sure I like this new normal at all.
In my periphery I see Haddie watching me to see my reaction to the comment on the TV. I don’t want to talk about it so I concentrate on the images on the screen. I’m able to make out the back of Becks’s head, Smitty’s face tight with concentration as he adjusts something on the wing, and then I find Colton in the back, shooting the shit with another racer. The sight of him calms me instantly and has me reaching for my cell in anticipation of his promised pre-race phone call. His voice is exactly what I need to hear right now.
“Fuck them,” Haddie says, holding her middle fingers up to the television, making me laugh. I can tell that was her intention with the comment when I look her way.