He went to the bathroom and cleaned up. Then he went to his bedroom, changed out of his bloody tee into a clean one, and grabbed his bag. He stuffed everything he could get into it. After that, he went to the AC register, pulled off the face, and tagged the money he’d saved and the letters he’d written, preparing, getting ready for the day he would be free. He took that and anything that meant anything from his room (there wasn’t much).

Done with that, he moved through the house and nabbed whatever he could that was worth something, including the jug of change his father was always filling. He even emptied his dad’s wallet.

He put everything in the car he’d bought for five hundred dollars and Linus had helped him fix up. He then strode to Linus’s mailbox and shoved in his letter. Across the street and down to Mrs. Heely’s, he shoved her letter in hers.

Ready, he got in his car.

One more thing to do before he went and he was going to do it.

So he drove to Swedish Medical Center.

He knew why he’d snapped with his dad. Mr. Robinson was out that day and word got around. It shouldn’t have. It was no one’s business. But it did.

The man had lost a kid the day before. His wife, pregnant, had a stillborn baby.

And Carson thought that sucked. It sucked so huge, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

That shouldn’t happen to anyone, but never to a man like Mr. Robinson. If gossip was true, and he figured it was, they’d been trying for a while and getting nowhere.

And that was wrong. It proved the universe was fucked.

Because outside of Linus, Carson knew no man who’d be a better dad.

So it sucked worse for Mr. Robinson and the dead kid he lost.

Carson should have come out stillborn.

Mr. Robinson’s baby should have come out bawling so he could have all Mr. Robinson had to give, which was a lot.

He went into the hospital, found where they did the baby stuff, and it took a while—nurses and doctors and other folks giving him looks as he hung around—but finally, he saw Mr. Robinson walk out of a room. He had his head down. Even if Carson couldn’t fully see his face, he could still see the man looked wrecked.

Carson gritted his teeth.

Suddenly, Mr. Robinson’s head came up. He stopped dead right there in the hall when he saw Carson.

Carson put everything into his face. Everything he felt for the man. Everything he felt for the man’s dead kid, who wouldn’t get a lifetime of knowing just how fucking lucky he was to have the seed that made him.

Then he lifted up his hand, palm out, and kept it there.