Clive called just after three, telling them the hearing was scheduled for eight in the morning the following day. Which for Rachel wasn’t good news.

“Owen is stuck in the foster home for another night.” She glanced at her cell phone, wishing desperately to contact him.

“I’ll call Nathan, have him talk to Owen and make sure he’s okay.”

Even though the day had been a success, Rachel sat on her couch, her eyes blankly staring at the wall in front of her.

Jason came back into the room and sat beside her. “Nathan is calling him.”

She leaned her head on Jason’s shoulder.

“Hey, what happened to your smile?”

“I’ve done all I can. It’s not up to me anymore. This is going to come down to my word against the Colemans’. My lack of family ties. How can I prove I didn’t flee the country just to see if I could if I needed to?”

Jason tightened his arm around her. “Let’s see . . . you didn’t hijack a plane. You didn’t cause the plane in Costa Rica to crash. I’m the one that suggested Owen come with us. And we all came back. This is all going to work out.”

“They are his blood relatives. TJ is Owen’s dad. It’s nearly impossible for me to stop the man from taking custody of his son.” The argument ran through her brain like a mantra.

Jason kissed the side of her head. “Why don’t you pack a bag and stay with me until all this blows over.”

Her eyes fell on the empty space where the Christmas tree had been up until the end of December. They hadn’t pushed the furniture back in place before they’d flown off to Central America. “Sitting here is just going to depress me.”

He helped her off the couch. “Go and pack. I’ll take the trash out.”

When she was done filling a small suitcase with some essentials, she stopped by the pile of bills she’d neglected. She opened a side pocket of her bag and shoved it all inside. Her laptop became part of the overnight bag with the intention of making sure they had a house to come back to once Owen was home.

She left the porch light on, closed the shades, and locked the door on their way out.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“I’m not going back there.” Owen pocketed his cell phone after he finished talking with Nathan.

Ford and Lionel sat with him in the high school gym, offering teenage advice.

“You can stay with one of us,” Ford said.

“My mom would be okay with you staying the night.”

“They’ll just come get me from your place, Lionel. No, I need to disappear.”

They both looked at him like he was crazy.

“And go where?”

Owen had been thinking about that all day long. In his mind, he had a couple of options. Both were places no one would ever think they’d find him. “The police will question you both, and I don’t need you ratting me out.”

“We’d never do that.”

“The cops always get to the truth. And if you don’t know it, you can’t tell it.”

“What are you going to do about school?” Ford asked.

Owen shrugged. “School will be there when all this goes away.”

Lionel and Ford exchanged glances. “And what if it doesn’t? What if the court sides with your grandparents?”

“Then school won’t matter, because I’m not living with them. I’ll really run away then.” He’d get word to Rachel and she’d flee with him. That was the pact they’d made over his mother’s grave, and he was going to keep her to it.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Oh, man.”

“What?”

“It’s Mr. Sims.”

Lionel glanced at the screen on his phone. “The dude that let the other kid punch you?”

“Yeah.” Owen texted the man, said he was in the library finishing up a project. “I gotta go.”

“So you aren’t going to run away?”

Owen shook his head and handed Ford his phone. “The last time you saw me was in the library. When you looked, you found my cell phone in your backpack.”

“Don’t you need your phone?”

“So they can trace it? C’mon, man, think.”

Lionel’s eyes were wide. “You’re really going to run.”

“I’m really not going back to that place.”

They all stood.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. And when Rachel talks to you guys, get her alone and tell her my mother didn’t raise a fool and that I said I’d be okay.” Owen hated that he was going to worry her, but he couldn’t exactly tell her where he was going without getting her in trouble. “Wait.”

He took his cell phone back and turned the camera on himself and hit “Video.”

“Hey, Rachel. I know you’re gonna be pissed and worried. I’m sorry for that. But I can’t go back to that place. And I’m not living with the hag and her chubby sidekick. And if my dad is behind all of this, well, fuck him. This wasn’t right. Once all the adults start acting like adults, I’ll be back. And if they can’t . . .” He paused. “Well, my mom didn’t raise a fool. I love you.”

He turned his phone off and handed it back.

“Stall them if you can.” He calculated how long it would take to get where he was going and decided to throw everyone off his trail. “I can be in the city in a couple of hours.”

“Dude!” Ford yelled after him.

Owen ran out of the gym without looking back.

Jason and Rachel walked through the door of his home and were greeted with the scent of food filling the kitchen.

Rachel turned to him. “Do you have a cook?”

He shook his head no while saying, “Sometimes.”

Several voices drew them in to the center of the home. Jason was never so happy to see his brothers and, even more, their wives.

Monica wrapped Rachel in a warm embrace. “How are you holding up?”

Rachel was an instant water fountain of tears.

Mary flanked her other side, and the three of them walked out of the kitchen.

Mary turned to Glen. “Don’t let that burn,” she told him, pointing toward the stove.

“It’s boiling water,” Glen said.

She glared.

“Well, I guess that answered the question about how Rachel is doing,” Trent said. He pushed Glen out of the way and stepped in wherever Mary had left off cooking.

“Is it bad?” Glen asked.

Jason looked at the backs of the women as they talked quietly to Rachel. “She’s held it together really well most of the day.”

“Any word?”

“It’s like watching grass grow. The only one talking to Owen is Nathan. The lawyer is moving things along, but we won’t know any more until after tomorrow’s hearing.”

“And the house?” Trent asked.

“Clear. I knew it would be. We won’t have those official papers for a couple of days.”

The three of them shook their heads in silence.

The back door opened, and Nathan walked in with a nod. “Hello, gentlemen. I smelled food.”

Trent turned back to the stove and added dry pasta to the boiling water.

“Hey,” Jason greeted his friend. “How is he?”

Nathan found the women with his eyes and lowered his voice. “He’s not happy. Had a little scuffle last night with the other boys at the home he’s at.”