Chapter 1
Isaiah
ELEVEN YEARS, TWO MONTHS, SEVEN days.
The last time I had physical contact with a blood relative.
The fingers of my left hand drum against the steering wheel and my right hand grips the stick shift. The urge to shift into First, slam the gas and hightail it out of the dismal gray parking lot pulses through my veins.
I force my stiff fingers to release the gear stick. Music could take the edge off, but the bass from the speakers vibrates in a way that could draw attention to my car hiding in the employee-only lot. From here, I can watch the visitors enter and exit the social services building.
Ninety minutes ago, my mother walked in. Now I need to see her walk out. With each intake of cold air, the itch to leave grows. So does the itch to meet her.
The heater died a half hour ago, and the engine stalled twice. A few more things to fix on the growing list. In need of a new resistor, the heater will be a cheap fix.
My cell rings. Without checking the caller ID, I know who it is, yet I answer anyway. “Yeah.”
“I see you.” Annoyance thickens my social worker’s Southern accent. “She’s waiting.”
My eyes flicker to the corner windows close to her cubicle and six feet from my car. Courtney draws the shades and places a hand on her hip. Her ponytail swings from side to side like she’s a pissed-off racehorse. Fresh out of college, she was assigned my case back in June. I guess her boss figured she couldn’t jack me up more than I already am.
“I told you not to schedule a visitation.” I stare at her as if we were in the same room. What I like about Courtney? She stares back. She’s one of three people who have the guts to hold eye contact with an inked seventeen-year-old with a shaved head and earrings. The second one is my best friend. The third...well, the third was the girl I loved.
Courtney sighs and the ponytail stills. “It’s Christmas Eve, Isaiah. She showed early and brought you