Now those same hands trembled in her lap.
“Just tell me. Don’t sugarcoat it, just spit it out.”
“Blake, this isn’t something to just blurt out,” Sarah reasoned.
I looked between them, and somehow, I just … knew. Maybe it was the pity in their eyes or the way Sarah looked so damn guilty. The truth hit me like a blood-soaked bomb.
“You’re not adopting us,” I deduced.
Her lip quivered.
“You’re sending me back.”
Sarah sniffled. Gone was the woman who’d wrapped her arms around me and given me a safe haven, a promise that life would be better. That she loved me, that she’d fight for me and Faith and give us a home forever. In her place was … whoever the hell this traitor was.
“You’re sending me back,” I repeated, pathetically hoping she’d tell me I was wrong. My voice came out small, like the kid I’d been when I first entered the system.
“I’m sorry.”
I huffed an angry laugh, and, goddammit, my eyes welled with tears, my throat betraying me by starting to close. The familiar sting of rejection burned through my chest, but this time, it went deeper, carved out places I didn’t even know could hurt.
“Why?”
“Blake, let’s talk about?—”
“Why?” I slammed my fist on the table again, harder this time, welcoming the pain.
Sarah swallowed. “I’m sick.”
“Sick,” I repeated.
She didn’t look sick. Not in the least.
“Doctors think I have a degenerative illness, Blake.”
“And that disqualifies her from fostering us?” I snapped at the lady, tasting copper as I bit the inside of my cheek. It was selfish to ask about me first rather than Sarah, but this wasn’t about me. It was about saving Faith.
“It doesn’t, but—” Sarah started, but I cut her off.
“It doesn’t. So, you could keep fostering me. Us. You’re just choosing not to.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“Blake.”
“I get it. Your ‘illness,’” I snarled, using air quotes aroundillness, “is enough on your plate. I’ll go pack my bag.”
“Blake, don’t …”
But I was already gone. Down the hall. Grabbing my backpack and shoving the little I had in this world into the duffel bag in my closet. The whole time, Sarah was trying to talk to me.
“I don’t want you to watch what’s about to happen to me,” she said.
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Blake, I’m doing this to protect you.”
