“Sorry, Zo. You can’t go back with your mom right now. Not until she gets some help.”

Zoe hugged the ball tighter to herself. “I don’t think I want to play today.”

“That’s all right. We can do whatever you want to do.”

She nodded and stared down at the ball, tracing patterns with her fingertip on the surface. That was how we spent the next hour. I didn’t push, just sat with Zoe. She was mad but didn’t yet believe that I was a safe place for her to express that anger. But I’d sit with her for as long as it took to gain her trust.

As I helped to load her new belongings into Mrs. Calhoun’s beat-up station wagon, I made sure to snap a picture of the license plate. I knew Child Protective Services put foster families through rigorous checks, but it wouldn’t hurt to do a little digging on my own.

“See you soon, Zoe.”

“Bye, Crosby,” she mumbled and climbed into the car.

A sinking feeling gripped me as I watched them go. And I’d learned not to ignore those feelings.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen. That same six-one-seven area code that had been calling for days stared back at me. Alicia had called and texted six times last night alone. When I’d walked out of Kenna’s guest house at one a.m. and checked my phone, not even a reemergence of my ex could’ve ruined my buzz. But now, in the light of day, hours from when I’d gotten my last hit of Kenna’s skin, her scent, the feel of her around me, it cut a little deeper.

I hit Accept. “When someone doesn’t return your texts or calls, the polite thing is to stop blowing up their phone.”

“Crosby.” Alicia’s voice did that breathy thing it did when she wanted something. I’d always thought it was ridiculous, but four years ago, I’d thought it was adorably ridiculous. Now, it was simply annoying.

“What do you want?” I beeped the locks on my truck and climbed in.

“We need to talk. Can you come to Boston this weekend?”

I laughed, but it had an ugly quality to it. “Only you would think I’d come when you call after you blew my life apart.”

“Crosby…” She was whining now. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Isn’t that enough? Brent wasn’t the man I thought he was. But maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. You and I were so good together.”