Page 64 of Scout

“Kaelin,” he answers on the second ring.

“It’s Scout Hastings. I need you.”

“I’m listening.”

“My sister’s mom… she passed. I need full guardianship of my sister, Juniper. Like… now.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll get started right away. Come by the office in a few days. I’ll have paperwork ready.”

“Thank you,” I say, and hang up.

Then I sit back and look at Juniper again. Her lashes are long, her skin pale. But she’s here. Alive. With me.

Juniper looks at me, her eyes rimmed in red but still sharp as hell. “We’re really going home together?”

“Yeah,” I say, emotion tightening my throat. “You’re mine now.”

She breathes that in. Doesn't flinch. Doesn’t cry.

I want to ask her if she’s scared. If she’s angry. But I already know the answer. She’s all cried out. She’s been holding herself together since they pulled her from the wreck. Because she’s strong. Stronger than I ever had to be at her age.

I squeeze her hand gently. “We’ll figure this out, Junie Boo. Just you and me.”

For a minute, I just sit there. The noise of the ER fades into the background—distant monitor beeps, a nurse’s shoessqueaking on the tile, the low hum of voices in the hallway. None of it matters.

I didn’t even think about Kendrix or Xavier when I got here.

Not once.

Not when I saw the red and blue lights outside. Not when I barged past the nurse and into Juniper’s room with blood running down her arm and soaking her hair. And not when they fixed my girl up and left the room for us to be alone.

Now that I know she’s okay, now that the adrenaline is settling and my pulse isn’t trying to break out of my neck, I think about them.

Xavier was the one who cleaned Juniper’s wounds. Stitched her arm. Stapled her scalp. His hands were steady. His voice was professional. And distant.

Kendrix sat beside me in silence, didn’t touch me, didn’t speak, just sat there, solid and quiet, like he knew that was all I could take.

I miss them. God, I miss them.

But this is what I wanted, right? For them to figure their shit out? And they did.

I’m glad. Really.

Even if it stings. Even if it leaves a hollow ache I can’t fill, not even with all the righteous fury I’m carrying now about the accident.

I glance at Juniper again. Her eyes are closed, lips parted slightly in sleep.

She’s all that matters.

I reach over and tuck the blanket higher up around her shoulders.

We’ll get out of here soon,I think.We’ll go home. Start fresh. Build something better.

Just the two of us.

Me and my girl.

Always.