Page 45 of Tangled Hearts
Wow. Way to trauma dump on the poor man. “Fuck, Eli,” he breathes.
“I had to get stitches. I was young. Eight or nine, maybe. He told them I fell.” Why am I still going on about this?
Nic’s arm wraps around my waist and he squeezes. Something about it makes me feel a little lightheaded, but not in a bad way. In a good way.
“You didn’t deserve that, doll. I’m so sorry.”
I don’t respond. Really, what is there to say? I bring my hand up, letting it rest in front of my face on his chest, then close my eyes. At some point, we have to stop doing this, right? At some point, I’ll have to stop falling asleep on him. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to take what I can. What I probably don’t deserve.
Today when I walked into Safe Haven, I did it with a pep in my step. I checked on Lexi, played a couple of rounds of Go Fish with her, helped Sasha with some admin stuff, and visited with Dad for a while.
There’s no pep now.
“Why can’t we do more?” I ask, frustrated beyond belief.
“The courts decided unification was best,” Sasha says. I know she’s just as mad as I am. But it still feels like a dismissal.
“It’s bullshit,” I blurt out.
Dad squeezes my shoulder, and when I look at him, his brown eyes are filled with the same heartbreaking rage I’m feeling. “I know it’s hard, Eli, but this is sometimes how things work out.”
“I hate it, though. Jaime was… God, Dad—he was beat all to hell when he came here. He’s just now getting better.”
And now he has to go back to his shitty parents. To a mom who swears she’s going to protect him—who swears his dad isn’t allowed around anymore. We’ve seen it a hundred times. He’s happy now. Thriving. But before long, he won’t be.
Maybe that’s just the cynic in me.
“Run me through it again,” I say, even though it’s unnecessary.
“Layla filed a protective order. Between that and the parenting classes she’s done, along with the court-mandated home safety checks, the courts feel returning Jamie to his mother is the best outcome.” Sasha sounds just as put out as I feel.
Foster care can be bad, don’t get me wrong. There are foster parents in it for the wrong reasons, and it’s not always the best option. I’ll be the first to admit that. But I truly believe that Jamie is not better off going home with his mom.
He’s finally sleeping well. He just started talking to his foster dad, when before he flinched away from all men. Even me. Me less than Dad, but still. He’s making huge strides in his recovery. And now they’re going to send him back to the same environment that left him hurt and afraid of his own shadow.
“He told me last week he felt safe,” I whisper, throat aching.
“I know, kiddo.” Dad wraps an arm around me, pulling me toward him. I let myself go, pressing my face into his chest. “We have to have faith that his mom is on the right track. She’s never hurt him, and their visits have gone well.”
“No,” I say, letting out a bitter laugh. “She’s never hurt him. She just sat back while someone else did. To me, that’s just as bad.”
“I know,” Dad repeats, his voice thick.
These are always the hardest on us. Both of us. There’s nothing that will make us spiral like seeing ourselves reflected in a child. In a perfect world, we could protect them all. We could keep them all safe.We could hide them away from the world, help them heal, and never, ever let them go back into the same environment that hurt them.
“I’ve talked to her, Eli,” Sasha says, trying to reassure me. “I think she’s serious. I think he’s going to be okay. That doesn’t mean I like it—not at all—but I do think he’s going to be alright.”
And what if he’s not? What then?
What happens if he comes back into our care with fresh bruises? Even worse, what happens if he doesn’t because no one checks on him? What if no one cares anymore, and he falls through the cracks? They’ll do checks on him for a while, but when they stop, what then? Does Layla invite dear old Dad back?
Will he repeat the abuse, continue to hurt Jamie?
I don’t have answers. Dad doesn’t either, and neither will Sasha. I know that.
I also know all my thoughts are in Dad’s head too. I know he’s wondering the same things, stressing about the same risks.
The phone rings, and I almost jump out of my skin. Dad and I both stand, leaving to give Sasha privacy for her phone call.
