Page 172 of Offside Devil

“He’s home sick. He’s had a cough and we didn’t want him passing it around.”

Peter arches a brow, but I glare right back. He can set as many traps as he wants to, but I’m not going to fall into any of them. I may not be able to give Zane everything he wants—but I can do this.

I can help him keep his son.

I direct the two CPS workers to the sofa in the living room and go get Aiden. He was napping, but when I open the door, he turns towards me.

“Is Daddy home?” His voice is a hoarse little rasp.

I brush my hand over his forehead. He’s warm, but the medicine must be helping, because he was burning up a couple hours ago.

“Not yet, but two people are here to see you. You might remember Jodie?”

He shrugs weakly. His face is pale. I want to tell Jodie and Peter to shove off and let him rest, but it’s not my place.

“They just want to ask you a few questions,” I tell him. “Just be honest and then I’ll kick them out so you can keep focusing on getting better. Okay?”

He slides out of bed in his Spiderman pajamas and then stops. “Can I have another popsicle?”

I brush his blonde hair away from his sweaty forehead. “Today, you can have as many popsicles as you want.”

Peter Morris must disapprove of Pedialyte popsicles, because he writes something down in his notebook as soon as I hand a blue one to Aiden.

He’s tucked up on the couch as far from the two agents as possible. He has a fleece blanket around his shoulders. He looks even more ashen in the daylight coming from the windows.

I called the twenty-four-hour nurse line at the children’s hospital early this morning and she told me to give him lots of fluids and rest. I’m not sure where “interrogations that could get him taken away from the only parent he has left” fit into the regimen, but here we are.

“We’ll just ask you a few questions and then be on our way,” Jodie says warmly. Her nose wrinkles in a smile. “You need lots of rest so you can feel all better.”

Aiden stares at her blankly, sucking on his popsicle.

What if he doesn’t respond? What if he refuses to say anything?

When he’s around people he knows—like me or Zane, Daniel and Taylor, even Owen—he only stops talking to breathe. Even then, he sometimes gets the hiccups because his lungs can’t keep up.

But he doesn’t know Jodie or Peter.

And he’s sick.

And Zane isn’t here.

I’m about to text Zane and beg him to come home rightfreakingnow when Jodie asks Aiden a question I can’t hear… and Aiden takes off.

“Jalen and Gallagher are both my friends. When they play Legos together, they fight. But they don’t fight with me. Only at lunch when Gallagher sits by me and Jalen wants to sit by me, too. Everyone wants to sit by me at lunch,” he muses, face wrinkled in thought. “I take turns sitting by them, but maybe I could sit in the middle. Then they could both sit by me.”

He talks about his teacher and the funny puppets his therapist uses during their sessions. He tells Jodie and Peter, unprompted, about going to the park with me and Zane last weekend.

“Mira makes me hold hands when we cross streets. Cars can flatten us like pancakes, but not if we hold hands.” He slurps on his popsicle. “But Mira holds hands with my daddy when no one is crossing the street. Just when we’re inside and there are no cars.”

They don’t even have to ask him another question. Within five minutes, Aiden has told them absolutely everything they could ever want to know about his day-to-day life. The one thing that is absurdly clear is that Aiden is well cared for and very loved.

Even sour-faced Peter Morris has to admit that.

“Do you have everything you need?” I ask as I return to the living room after helping Aiden back to bed.

Jodie Barnes slings her purse over her shoulder and stands up. “I have what I need.”

“It would have been nice if Mr. Whitaker had been here,” Peter grits out.

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