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She sighs and looks back out at the rain.

“Maybe Bianca won’t want to stay so far away from her friends…” she goes on. “There’s a lot to discuss. None of this is permanent or fixed yet, but what I can assure you is that you’re not alone anymore.” And she looks at me again, and I meet her eyes. “We can help you make sure they’re taken care of.”

No one can take care of them like me. No one cares about kids who aren’t theirs.

“But we’ve got them now—for a few days, at least—and you can breathe a little,” she says. “Take some time to think. I can tell you; a few years seems like forever when you’re young, but it goes by so fast. If you do end up taking them, you don’t want to be working two jobs.”

Yeah, she sounds like Hawke.

“They don’t want to see you unhappy.” Her voice softens. “Consider your education and your future. When you got out of college, Matty would still only be ten.”

And a lot can happen in that time. He could get defiant, and they could decide they can’t handle him. Bianca could run away. Their voices will only get louder as they get older. I’m the only one who can keep them on track. Safe.

A voice calls me. “Aro.”

I look over, seeing Hawke in the doorway, and he comes over, seeing it in my eyes. The fatigue. His mother means well, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how easily a kid’s life can be destroyed. Everything I do will be to protect them. I’m the only one I can trust.

He takes my hand and looks to his mom but careful to turn so that she can’t see his new ink. He probably told his dad, though, and will have him break the news to Mrs. Trent. “You got the kids?” he asks her.

She nods, and he pulls me away.

We head through the kitchen, down the hall, and toward the front door, but I immediately pull him to a halt. “No, can we stay?”

I know he wants to go back to the hideout. Be alone together, so his parents don’t hear us, but…

“I want to be here when they wake up in the morning,” I tell him. “It’ll reassure Matty if he sees me.”

He blows out a breath, and I kind of want to smile at how depressed he suddenly looks. “You’re killing me.”

He trusts his parents, so he’s not worried about them taking care of my siblings, but I don’t know them. I’m not leaving.

“All right.” He leads me up the stairs, and I slide my hand up the back of his T-shirt, looking forward to holding him. He’s always so warm.

But he takes me into his room, pulls out a clean T-shirt, and then takes my face, kissing me hard on the lips. “The shower is to your left.” He points toward the door. “And I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight.”

What? He starts to leave, but I grab his hand. “Where are you going?”

“To the couch,” he says. “I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you, and my parents might freak if we’re doing it right under their noses.”

He pulls me in again and presses his lips to mine, holding my face, and breathes me in like he needs me to live. It goes warm down to my toes, and I wrap my arms around him.

But he pulls away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And I watch him go, trying not to smile at how tight his jeans suddenly look.

Two hours later, I’m still awake.

I mean, I want to be here when my brother and sister wake up, but I feel like I should’ve just gone back to Carnival Tower with Hawke.

Not like I’d be asleep yet anyway if I had, so I guess that’s a consolation.

And why do they call it Carnival Tower? He never explained that. And is it really a tower? It has a great vantage point from up on the roof, but I don’t know…

I shake my head, trying to get my head clear, my brain to stop working for a while, but all I keep thinking about is the race, the fight, the tattoo...

The car and the hours out at the lake.

I’d showered and cleaned, but I still feel him. His weight. His mouth. His warmth on my belly. I wish he’d been my first too.

I would’ve gotten the affection I deserved. The consideration, the time, the intensity… I didn’t think it would ever feel like that. Like I had to have him. I would’ve known not to expect any less in my future, and I hope it was the same for him.

I throw off the covers and hop out of bed, opening the drawers to his dresser until I find a pair of green and black plaid boxer shorts. Slipping them on, I roll them over a couple of times and smooth out my hair over the black T-shirt he loaned me. Opening the door, I creep into the hallway.