“What?”
Jace motioned her over.
She came running and squeezed herself between us.
“Jace says you picked us,” I said.
She nodded as if this were obvious.
“Why?”
Jace motioned her over.
Josie pointed at her brother.
“You talked to him.”
I almost smiled.
“That was it?”
Josie frowned at me like I was missing something obvious.
“Everybody talks to me,” she said. “They play with me and give me snacks. But they don’t talk TO Jace. They talk ABOUT him.”
I was missing something obvious.
Jace stared at the table.
“What do they say?” I asked.
“They ask if he’s bad. If he gets mad. If he can stay somewhere else.”
Jace’s jaw tightened.
“One lady said she wanted me, but her house was too small for Jace.”
“What do they say?”
“After that, Josie wouldn’t talk to her anymore,” Jace said quietly.
Josie shrugged.
“She didn’t want my brother.”
There was nothing childish about the certainty in her voice.
Josie leaned against her brother.
“So I stopped caring if people were nice to me.”
There was nothing childish about the certainty in her voice.
Daniel swallowed. “What did you care about?”
“If they were nice to him.”
She looked at me.
“You asked what he wanted for dinner.”
Then at Daniel.
“You talked basketball with him.”
Don’t miss
“What did you care about?”
I remembered how surprised Jace had looked when I’d asked him what he wanted to eat.
And I remembered Josie watching us.
Josie wrapped both arms around his waist.
“Everybody wanted me,” she said.
Then she looked up at us.
“But I only wanted somebody who wanted him just as much.”
And I remembered Josie watching us.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I looked at Jace.
There was still one thing I didn’t understand.
“If Josie chose us, and you told Rebecca yes… why didn’t you unpack?”
Jace went still.
There was still one thing I didn’t understand.
“Because people change their minds.”
Daniel leaned forward. “We weren’t going to.”
“You know that now.”
That stopped him.
Jace looked down.
“People always want her at first. Sometimes they think they can deal with me too. Then they get tired of me being there.”
“Because people change their minds.”
My throat tightened.
“So I figured I’d wait.”
“For what?”
He finally looked at me.
“For the moment you decided you didn’t want me anymore.”
The worst part was how calmly he said it.
“So I figured I’d wait.”
He wasn’t accusing us.
He was describing what he had prepared himself for.
And suddenly the packed bags didn’t look like an escape plan.
They looked like armor.
I wanted to promise him we would never change our minds.
But I suspected he’d heard enough promises from adults.
And suddenly the packed bags didn’t look like an escape plan.
So I nodded toward the hallway.
“You know that dresser in your room?”
He looked at me. “Yeah.”
