“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “I’m not.”
Silence settles around us, and it’s deafening.
“You know I have to ask, Morgan,” I say, finally addressing the elephant in the room. “Why was she home alone? Where’s your dad?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, and I wonder if he will answer me or if I will have to bring Hayes in on this situation—but eventually, he does.
“I don’t know. We haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”
“He just left you guys at home? Alone?” Anger pulses through my veins, but I try to tap it down because I know the moment he sees me lose it, he’ll stop talking.
“I’m eighteen. I’m plenty old enough to stay home alone,” he says defensively.
I don’t try to argue that because he’s right, he is, but that little girl in there is not. When we pulled up, there was not an adult insight, but from the way Morgan reacted when he saw the empty driveway, there should’ve been.
“Who was supposed to be watching your sister while you were at the game, Morgan?” I ask.
Shame fills his eyes, and he pulls them away from me as a tear slides down his cheek.
“I swear I didn’t leave her alone, man,” he cries.
He crumbles, and I step forward, wrapping him in my arms as he falls apart.
“Hey,” I say, cupping my hand over the back of his head as his head falls to my shoulder. “I didn’t think that. I’m not accusing you. Okay?”
Morgan nods, but the tears continue to soak into my shirt. “I hired a babysitter. She was supposed to stay here until I got home, but my car wouldn’t work, and—and—” He hiccups between each word until he gets to the point where he can’t talk anymore through his sobs.
“Hey, she’s okay,” I say, knowing that what he needs more than anything right now is comfort. Not a lecture. “Let’s go back in there with her so you can see that. And we’ll figure out where to go from there.”
He jerks his head up off my shoulder and steps back. “You can’t tell, man. Please don’t tell. I promise I won’t leave her again. I’ll quit the team. Please just don’t tell.”
“Morgan—”
“No,” he begs. “You’re going to try to convince me that’s what’s best, but it’s not. I’m eighteen. I’m a legal adult—old enough to take care of her. They can’t do anything to me, but they’ll take her away.”
His whole body trembles with desperation. That little girl in there isn’t his daughter, but she might as well be. I can see it in his eyes.
“You’re not quitting—”
“I will. I swear—”
I hold my hand up, stopping him.
“That’s not what I mean. You’re not quitting, and I won’t tell anyone. But I have some stipulations behind that.”
I could lose my job for this. I’m a mandatory reporter, but I won’t separate him from her, not when I know what that feels like.
“Anything,” he says, agreeing before he knows my requirements.
“First, you stay on the team, and if you can’t find anyone reliable—or you can’t afford it—you bring her to games or practices. Someone can watch her there for you.”
“Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”
“You haven’t heard my other stipulations,” I say.
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
