“Wait,” said Layne, her voice breathy. “Wait—you’re saying—”

“I’m saying that Michael Merrick is losing custody of his brothers.”

CHAPTER 16

Michael forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. His chest still felt like it was being held together by nothing more than a few stitches. Every movement hurt. Every breath. Every thought.

Or maybe that was just the sensation of his world collapsing.

He’d been so worried about a Guide tearing his family apart. Not a nondescript girl with a clipboard in one hand and a court order in the other.

It felt as if hours had passed since everyone had vacated his room, but he was sure it hadn’t been more than a few minutes. He couldn’t even remember the social worker’s name, but she’d agreed to wait in the hallway, to let him break the news to his brothers.

Some small, cowardly part of him didn’t want to do it. He wanted to beg the nurse to come back, to pump him full of painkillers and let him drift off to a land of unawareness.

He didn’t want to do this.

He didn’t want to do this.

He didn’t want to do this.

And then they were there, in the doorway, and he was going to have to do it.

A thousand words sat on the end of his tongue. He couldn’t speak. If he didn’t speak, it wouldn’t happen.

They looked so young. He could remember them at eleven and twelve, staring at him just like this, silently begging him to make everything all right.

He’d failed. He hadn’t made everything all right.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jesus, Mike,” Nick said. He pushed past his brothers. “Are you in pain? Chris—get a nurse—”

“No,” said Michael. He choked on the word. “Just—wait.”

Wait. Stay here. If you stay here, I know you’re here and I haven’t failed.

They waited. He tried to breathe. The silence in the room pulsed with unspoken words.

They knew something bad was coming.

With each breath, the pain in his chest began to ease. Michael realized he didn’t need to clutch at the bedrail to keep himself upright. The plastic railing felt slick under his palm.

As soon as Michael realized what was happening, he wanted his brother to undo it. He wanted to rip out his stitches and break his ribs. He wanted the pain.

He met Nick’s eyes. “Stop, Nick.” His voice almost broke. “Stop.”

“I’m being careful. They won’t know.”

“Stop. Please. Just—stop.”

“Okay,” said Nick. His eyes had turned wary. And afraid. “Why?”

“I need—” He had to take another breath, and this one hurt for a reason that had nothing to do with his injuries. “I need—”

He couldn’t even finish that sentence.

I need to tell you something.

I need you to forgive me.

I need you to know I never wanted this to happen.

Gabriel finally spoke, but he kept his voice down. “What the hell is going on here, Michael? Are they arresting you? Is that why there are cops in the hallway?”

Michael shook his head. Part of him wished that was why.

There were cops in the hallway in case his brothers resisted. Or in case he did.

Nick glanced at the doorway. “Close the door.”

“No,” said Michael. “They’ll open it. Just—wait. Sit down. Wait.”

There weren’t enough chairs, but Nick and Gabriel sat, while Chris leaned against the small table beside the bed.

And they waited.

Michael wished for his parents to somehow be alive. He wished as hard as he had five years ago.

It didn’t work any better now.

What would Dad do? What would he expect Michael to do?

He’d expect you to get your act together and pretend it’s okay. Because if it’s okay for you, it’ll be okay for them.

It wasn’t okay. This would never be okay.

He wasn’t even sure he could fake it.

He looked at each of them and forced his voice to be steady. “This is temporary. I need you all to understand that.” His voice wavered, and he caught it. “This is temporary.”

“What’s temporary?” said Nick. A lick of fear had crawled into his voice. “Michael. What’s—”

“You’re all under eighteen, and we don’t have a house to live in.”

“No,” said Gabriel. “We’re fine. We can stay at Adam’s.”

“Please,” said Michael. “Please, listen to me.”

“You can’t do this,” said Chris. His voice was quick and frightened. “Becca’s mom said we can go there. We can—”

“I’ve tried,” said Michael. “I’m sorry. I tried. It’s already arranged.”

Gabriel was out of his chair so fast, it almost fell over. He glanced at the door. “What’s already arranged? What the f**k are you talking about?”

Gabriel’s anger helped steady Michael. This he could deal with. He strengthened his voice. “DFS has ordered emergency custody. You’re going to spend a few nights in a youth home, until I can get before a judge—”

“You can’t do this,” Chris said again. He was breathing like he’d run a race.

“We’ll run,” said Gabriel. His eyes were furious, and the lights in the room flickered. “They can’t keep us there. Goddamn it, Michael, I can’t believe you agreed to this—”