“I’ll call you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Good luck today.”

I drive home with such conflicted feelings. Every moment with him over this last day was more than I could have hoped for, but knowing what he’s about to face makes my heart feel like a piece of it broke off and stayed with him.

I’m going to be thinking about him all day. I’m hoping they don’t find Tim, but if they do, I hope Josh makes the right decision.

Chapter Thirty-One Atlas

It’s a three-hour drive there. Josh hasn’t said much. He’s been reading, although if he’s as nervous as I am about this, I’m not sure he’s actually absorbing anything he’s reading. He’s been on the same page for five minutes. It’s a drawing of what looks like a battle scene, but mostly all I see is cleavage.

“Is that manga appropriate for a twelve-year-old?” I ask him.

He shifts ever so slightly so that the cover of the book is all I can see. “Yes.”

His voice dropped an entire octave on that lie. At least he’s a horrible liar. If he ends up staying with me, detecting when he is or isn’t telling me the truth should be easy.

If he ends up staying with me, maybe I should buy him a few self-help books for balance. I’ll stock his bookshelves with whatever graphic novels he wants, and then secretly slip in a few of my own to supplement my lack of skills as a guardian. Untamed, Man Enough, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Heck, maybe even some sacred text from every major world religion. I’ll take whatever help I can get.

Especially after today. As much as Josh may think this is a one-way trip, I know in my heart he’s coming right back to Boston with me. I just hope he doesn’t come back kicking and screaming.

When the GPS says we’re turning onto the street, Josh’s hand tightens around his manga. He doesn’t look up from it, though, even though he still hasn’t turned the page. When I spot Tim’s address on the curb in front of a run-down frame house, I pull the car over. The house is across the street on the driver’s side, but Josh pretends to be sunk into his story.

“We’re here.”

Josh drops his book and finally looks up. I point to the house, and Josh stares at it for a good ten seconds. Then he puts the book in his backpack.

He brought most of his things with him. The clothes I bought him, some of the books. They’re all stuffed so tight in a backpack that barely zips, and he holds it in his lap with the hope that he has at least one parent that will take him.

“Can we wait a little bit?” he asks.

“Sure.”

While he waits, he fidgets with everything. The air vents, his seat belt, the music on his Bluetooth. Ten minutes pass while I patiently give him the time to work up whatever courage he’s in need of that will help him open the door.