Page 36

Nothing pulls you out of a dead sleep as effectively as a phone call in the middle of the night.

The shrill ringing breaks through the still silence of Mia’s bedroom, jerking me from a blissful dream featuring the woman beside me. A second before reality catches up with me, I stare up at the ceiling. Then I reach for the phone, fumbling to answer it, barely glancing at the screen.

“Coach Ronan?” Emmie’s voice sounds like she’s a hundred miles away instead of speaking directly into the receiver. “I…I need help.”

Twenty minutes later, Mia and I are pulling to a stop at the address Emmie texted. The red and blue lights bouncing off the houses blur my vision as we make our way toward the house. I’m looking everywhere; my gaze barely lands on one person before blinking to the next, trying to find Emmie.

Finally, I see her.

She’s dressed in pajama pants with an Adair hoodie on.

Her hair is a mess, arms wrapped around herself for either protection or to keep out the chill.

She’s talking to a female officer who has a stoic look on her face.

Just off to the side, there’s a woman around my age dressed in a pantsuit, talking on the phone, but she’s keeping a close eye on Emmie.

And I know, instantly, that this woman is a social worker.

Mia must see her at the same time as I do, because we both start heading toward her. Until a hand on my chest stops me dead in my tracks.

I blink at the officer, who came out of nowhere. “Sir, you need to stay back.”

“I…” The words die on my tongue as I look toward Emmie. How had I missed so many signs? “She…”

Emmie’s gaze jumps toward us then, her eyes widening before she crumbles. She says something to the officer she’s talking to, motioning toward us. Mia and I are being waved forward.

Mia’s there first, pulling the teen into a one-armed hug, asking her if she’s all right. I let my girl—I let Mia fret over her, but I squeeze her shoulder before facing the officer and social worker.

“Ronan O’Brien,” I introduce myself, shaking hands with both women. “I’m Emmie’s coach at Adair Swim Club. This is Mia Sheridan, who also works there.”

“Mr. O’Brien, my name is Penny Smith. I’m the social worker who’s been assigned to this case.”

I let my eyes scan over Emmie, who has no obvious injuries, before I focus back on Penny. “What happened?”

Penny and the officer exchange a glance before looking at Emmie.

The officer is able to convince the young girl to go get checked over by the paramedics.

She glances back at us, eyes wide with fear, exhaustion, and unshed tears.

I give her my best reassuring smile, even though adrenaline is still pumping through my own veins.

She turns to face the paramedic who met them.

My focus is pulled back to Penny, who starts filling us in on what’s been going on for years before having escalated in the last few months.

In the year they’ve been here, the authorities have been called almost a dozen times by concerned neighbors and at least one teacher.

Each time, Emmie’s mother has managed to skate by when CPS would follow-up on calls.

She’d charm them with a wonderful personality, discussions of going back to school, and Emmie would stand by her mother.

A well-practiced routine that managed to fool everyone. Until tonight.

Tonight, it was Emmie herself who called.

She’d told the dispatcher that there was no food in the house, no electricity, or running water.

Her mother had only been awake a handful of hours over the last few days, and she was worried about her.

She’d shared how she’d been forced to lie in the past, not able to let the police know what her life is like, or that her mother is an addict incapable of taking care of anyone.

I feel bile rise in my throat. Mia’s grip around my bicep tightens with every word, and I try to remember what it’d been like when I was in her shoes.

The first time I was confronted with a story like this.

Over the years, it hasn’t gotten any easier to hear.

I’m not sure it ever will. Which is probably for the best.

“So, what happens now?” Mia asks, looking between the social worker and officer.

“Emmie informed me that she has a half brother who is twenty-seven,” Penny explains, glancing down at her phone. “We’re still trying to get a good number for him.”

“Does he know anything about what Emmie has gone through?”

“According to Emmie, he tried getting her out the last time she saw him. Their mother was clean for a few years there and refused to relinquish her rights. Records indicate he tried to pursue it legally, but it didn’t go anywhere.

The mother’s response to his attempt was to cut all contact between the sibling.

Emmie doesn’t even know if he’s still in the state. ”

I’ll never understand what people in positions of authority are thinking when children are involved in cases like this.

The ultimate desire should be to keep them with their parents, but when a pattern is present, and a sibling is trying to protect another by getting them out of the situation they’ve already been in, they should be listened to.

How much grief would it have saved Emmie if someone had listened to her brother?

Penny clears a message away from her phone. “The number Emmie was able to find is no longer in service. We’re hoping to get in contact with him tonight, though.”

Mia’s grip on my arm tightens even more. “What happens in the meantime?”

I already know the answer to her question.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve been cleared to take Emmie back to my place for the night.

Penny assures me she’ll keep trying to get information on the brother and call me as soon as she gets in contact with him.

We can only hope that he’s as receptive to getting her out of a horrible situation now as he was back then.

Either way, I don’t think any of us are going to get much sleep tonight.

Before we leave, I go into the house with Emmie to grab a bag, and my heart breaks even more.

Though it’s clear there’s not much money, the house is clean and well organized.

I know it’s all Emmie’s doing. Emmie’s attempt at giving herself a normal, more stable life.

I wonder if that’s what her brother had done for her before he got out.

Once we're cleared to head out, Emmie slides into the backseat of my SUV, immediately pulling Lezak into her lap. I can see her relax slightly. On our way, I pull into the first open drive-thru I see, getting us all at least something to eat.

“Are they calling my brother?” Emmie’s voice is quiet, subdued in a way I’ve never heard before.

I miss the sassy, defiant kid I’d come to know .

“They’re trying to.” I look in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of her eyes, but hers are locked on the world passing us by. “Are you okay with that?”

She nods. “I miss him. I hope he remembers me.”

Fucking hell . I hate her mother.

“He does, Emmie,” Mia pipes up, turning in her seat to face her best she can. Her smile is gentle and comforting. “Trust me, no one could forget you.”

“Mom did.” She shrugs. “All the time.”

“Your mom needs a lot of help, Emmie.” My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “None of that is your fault.”

“What if he makes me move back to Charleston?” I hate that I don’t have those answers for her. Her brother could do that, or he could decide he doesn’t want anything to do with his sibling anymore. I doubt it, but it’s a possibility. “I don’t want to leave Columbia.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I insist. “We’ll get answers soon enough, and we’ll help you however we can.”

Silence falls over the car. I glance at Mia out of the corner of my eye. There are tears running down her cheeks. I don’t want to say anything, especially when I’m pushing back my own, so I reach out to squeeze her knee. She gives me a watery smile, then tangles our hands together.

The last twelve hours have officially changed everything. I’m not sure if it’s for better or worse.

My phone rings almost as soon as I collapse onto the couch. It’s an unknown number, so I quickly answer. “This is Ronan.”

“Hello, Mr. O’Brien.” Penny’s voice rings in my ear. “I was able to get in contact with Emmie’s brother, Liam. As next of kin, he’s been granted full guardianship, effective immediately. I will work on expediting the paperwork to grant him full custody over the child. ”

Despite the fact she can’t see me, I find myself nodding along. I’ve heard variations of this exact speech so many times, I could probably give it myself.

“I have him on the other line so we can coordinate a pickup. Do you have any questions for me before I connect the calls?”

“No, ma’am.”

There’s a slight fumbling on her end before a click sounds in my ear. “Mr. Campbell, I have Emmie’s swim coach, Ronan O’Brien, on the line with us.”

“How’s Emmie?” This instant question eases my anxiety slightly. I wish every guardian I’ve been on the phone with prioritized the child the way he is. “No one will tell me anything other than the fact she’s safe.”

“She is safe,” I stress. “She’s finally asleep and seems to be handling this all okay, given the circumstances. She was pretty quiet, but I know it took a lot for her to be the one to ask for help.”

He lets out a tired, defeated sigh. “I didn’t even know they were in South Carolina. Last I knew, they were headed to Georgia. They’ve been this close; I could have done something.”

“You’re doing something now.” I’m not sure if the words are a comfort to him or not, but they’re what I’d want to hear if our roles were reversed. “Are you in Columbia?”

“Charleston. I can be there in less than three hours.”

“I understand your urgency to get to her and see she’s okay for yourself, but she’s asleep. It’s almost five o’clock in the morning; she needs rest. Get some of your own and get here later this afternoon.”

“I agree with Mr. O’Brien,” Penny adds. I’d almost forgotten she was even on the line. “She’s in capable hands. He’s done this before.”

“You have?”

“Yes.” More times than I care to count. The kids we work with sometimes have shitty home lives.

I step in until other, more stable, arrangements can be made.

More often than not, those arrangements meant the child either moved or had to give up swimming, which was always harder to swallow.

Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that with Emmie.

“It’s summer, so the only priority she has right now is swimming.

As far as I’m concerned, she’s not expected at regular practice until she’s ready.

That gives you some time. My advice to you is to take the morning and come up with a plan, because she’ll have questions. ”

“Showing her you have some sort of plan will give her back some of the stability she’s lost,” Penny agrees. Clearly, it’s not her first time doing this either. “Given the fact you haven’t seen one another since she was nine, we should also plan to meet somewhere she’s comfortable.”

“Let’s go to the club,” I offer. “She’s comfortable there and there are distractions she can use while we talk. She can swim or workout. No one else will be there until the evening except for us and her other coaches.”

“Right,” Liam replies. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Let’s plan to meet at Adair Swim Club tomorrow afternoon at two.”

“That works for me,” I agree.

“I’ll be there.”

We take the time to coordinate the rest of the logistics and answer some basic questions Liam has; like whether or not she has stuff with her or if they have the chance to go back and get more. Then we’re hanging up. But, almost immediately, my phone rings again.

This time, I recognize the number. “Hey, beautiful.”

“I should have known Ronan O’Brien would still be charming even when he’s dead on his feet.”

“You know it.” I might be smiling, but she’s not wrong.

I feel the exhaustion deep within me, but it’s paired with a rage that comes whenever I have to deal with shitty parents.

They come in every shape and size. Every kid who has them can tell you the effect they have on you will last a lifetime, constantly altering your view of yourself, other people, and life in general.

“Did Penny get ahold of the brother?”

“Yeah.” I drop my head back against the couch, finally allowing myself to relax. “He’s meeting us at the club in the afternoon. He wanted to drive out right now, but we both advised everyone gets some rest.”

“That’s a good idea, and I’ll be there tomorrow.” I didn’t have to ask, she anticipated not only my needs, but Emmie’s, too. The more people she sees in her corner, the more supported she’ll feel. “You should get some sleep, Ronan. You’ve had a long night, too.”

I’m about to argue, but I can feel my body relaxing more. When I don’t say anything, she launches into some ridiculous story about Bryce and Carter, trying to build her entertainment center when she first moved to Columbia. It’s ridiculous, in the most comforting way.

“Next time, I’ll build it,” I promise.

“Absolutely,” she agrees. “Now where was I?”

Somewhere around the moment they start throwing things at each other, I succumb to sleep.