He walked back to the living room and took another look at the amazing view. “I hope whatever you’re doing is worth it, Wes.”

Then he found the riverboat on Google Maps and plotted a route.

Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 10:45 p.m.

Michael sat back in his chair with a sigh. His plate was scraped clean, his stomach truly full for the first time in weeks. He glanced up to see Dr. Dani smiling.

“It was good?” she asked.

“Really good,” Joshua said enthusiastically, shoving another bite into his mouth. He’d padded down the stairs midway through dinner, rubbing his eyes sleepily and claiming the smells had woken him up. He pointed to the creamy noodles in his bowl. “This is my favorite.”

“It’s really good,” Michael echoed. He liked macaroni and cheese out of the blue box—it was better than the crap they served at the school cafeteria—but Dr. Dani’s was the best he’d ever had. He wondered if she’d show him how to make it, so that he could make it for Joshua when they left this house.

It was only temporary foster care, after all.

She tilted her head, studying him with those weird, mismatched eyes that seemed to see a lot more than he wanted to show. “How long since you’ve eaten a good meal, Michael?”

Joshua’s spoon froze midway to his mouth, his smile fading as he waited for his brother to answer. Michael tried to laugh it off. “Well, I usually make dinner, but I wouldn’t call it good.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t eat when he cooks at home. Only I do.”

Coach Diesel turned in his chair so that he could see both Joshua and Michael. “Why, Joshua?”

“Because there isn’t enough.” Joshua gave him what Michael thought of as his “old-man” look. It hurt that Joshua knew that look. He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t have to worry about stuff like that.

Michael sighed. “I eat at school.”

Diesel frowned. “Your mother doesn’t buy you food?”

Michael lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “She doesn’t eat much.”

“Because she’s high?” Dr. Dani asked, compassion in her eyes.

Michael’s gaze darted to Joshua. He would give anything to keep this conversation from his little brother. But Joshua knew the truth about their mother’s drug use. They’d both seen her high. Damn it all.

“Yes,” Michael acknowledged. “Brewer never ate at home. He went out a lot. Business meetings, he said. There wasn’t a lot in the pantry. So . . .” He trailed off, looking at his hands, shame heating his face. He hated that they pitied him.

After a few seconds, he looked up through his lashes to see Dr. Dani and Coach Diesel silently communicating across the table with their eyes. Both of them cut to look at Michael when they realized he was watching them.