“Mom.” She should have been at the soccer field, picking up Joshua. She should have stayed there, waiting for him. But she hadn’t. She’d come home, staggering inside with that glassy-eyed look that never boded well.

She’d been high, probably popping pills while in the car. And now she was passed out, a syringe on the end table. But she was breathing, so at least she wasn’t dying. He had half a mind to contact the cops and have her sorry ass carted off to jail for heroin possession and child neglect, but for now his main concern was Joshua.

He was supposed to be picked up by now. What if the coach left him there? What if Joshua tried to walk home? The practice field was six miles away. What if some pervert stole him? What if the big bald guy was waiting for him?

Oh God. Oh God.

Michael grabbed his phone and house keys. He stole a quick look at his mother’s car keys, then shook his head, immediately regretting the action. His head hurt and he was dizzy. He couldn’t have driven a car even if he knew how. His bicycle would have been just as dicey, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

John had sold his bike a few months back. Said he’d needed a little cash. Which would have been bad enough, but John hadn’t paid for the bike to begin with. Michael had bought it with the money he’d made mowing lawns.

But none of that was important now. He had to get to Joshua. He was going to have to run.

He was glad he was fast.

Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 12:05 p.m.

Fuck. Diesel shoved back the rage. Kept his voice calm. “Does your mother hit both of you?” he pressed, and felt a small frisson of relief when Joshua shook his head.

“Just Michael,” he whispered. He blinked, sending tears streaking down his face. “She throws stuff at him. Says he ruined her life. Why is she so mean to him?”

Diesel drew another steadying breath. “I don’t know,” he said, then shifted his gaze behind him when Joshua’s eyes abruptly lit up with relieved joy.

“It’s him. Michael’s here!” He ran for his brother, who was crossing the parking lot at a sprint. When he got to Joshua, he dropped to one knee and opened his arms, breathing hard.

Until Diesel stood up and turned to face him. Then Michael Rowland’s face drained of all color and he fell backward, landing on his ass. His arms came around Joshua and he held him so tightly that the little boy squirmed. All while Michael stared at Diesel like he’d seen a ghost. He was no longer breathing hard. Diesel wasn’t sure if the kid was breathing at all.