And she jerked her head to the side, indicating another counter at a window down the hall.
“What happened?”
“He attacked a man named Vincent Donovan, apparently the foster father of his brother?”
I let my eyes fall, thinking. “Uh, I think so. I don’t know.”
Jared had a half brother named Jax, whom he met the summer I let him visit his father when he was fourteen. I wasn’t sure who his foster parents were, though. I’d never thought to reach out.
The boy was only a year or so younger, and my suspicions must have been right. Thomas had been screwing around while we were still together. In fact, the boys were so close in age, Thomas must’ve gotten her pregnant not long after Jared was born.
Jax’s mother split early on, and since Thomas was in jail, Jax was in foster care. I thought about taking him in, but I obviously couldn’t parent the one kid I had, so that was out of the question. Right now, anyway.
“Well,” the officer explained, “he claimed the man was abusing his brother, so he retaliated. The victim has three broken ribs and is in surgery right now for internal bleeding. He should be fine. Luckily.”
“Victim,” I sneered, repeating her term as I tried wiping the dizziness out of my eyes.
Who else rushed to protect Jax when that asshole hurt him? Jared, that’s who.
And who rushed to protect Jared when his father beat the shit out of him two years ago?
No one.
I moved my arm and accidentally knocked my purse to the floor. James bent down to snatch it back up.
The clerk pinned me with a stare. “Are you drunk?”
I squared my shoulders and glared at her, taking my purse back from Tate’s dad.
“My son is a good kid,” I told her, ignoring her question.
She nodded, looking sarcastic. “I’m sure you did your best.”
She turned and walked away, and I stood frozen, left with no words. What was I going to say? You’re wrong? I don’t have to explain myself to you?
Because, you know, Kat, your son’s sitting in a cell, and you had no idea where he was or what he was doing. He stays out at all hours; he could be drinking and driving or getting someone pregnant, and he does whatever he wants for one simple reason.
He can. He barely has any parents, and that is something you do have to answer for.
We walked down the hall to the cashier, while Madoc remained quiet, but I could tell he was watching me. I paid the bail, barely able to sign the papers, because I was shaking so hard.
“It’ll take a while to process,” the clerk told me. “You can wait in the chairs.”
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Well, your son will be given a date to appear in court. You’ll need a lawyer.”
I closed my eyes, exhaling a small cry as I turned away. “Lawyer,” I repeated, whispering to myself. “This isn’t happening.”
“I can call my dad.” Madoc approached. “He’s in the city, but he can be here in the morning. He’ll be able to get Jared out of this.”
“No,” I shot out. “Thanks, but I’ll handle this.”
He just stood there for a moment, looking like he wanted to argue but thought better of it.
All of us walked to the chairs and took our seats, Madoc giving me space and sitting a few chairs down.
James leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know which judge his case will be assigned to, but I can talk to the one I know and see if I can work something out,” he suggested. “It’s his first offense, and I know he’s a good kid.”
I nodded, giving him my permission, but my mind was already racing ahead. What would life be like in five years?
I took the house all those years ago for Jared. For him to have a better life. But it seemed all my fears were coming true.
Where would we be in the next few years? Would Jared be in college? Would I be married to a man who loved me and curled up on the couch to watch TV with me every night? Would Jared let me hug him?
Would everything be completely different and we’d all suddenly have the perfect life and family?
No. Everything would be exactly the same, only worse. Jared would be in jail, like his father, because I’d abandoned and neglected him, and it was my fault Jared was here.
I took my phone out of my purse, my fingers hovering over the numbers, because I didn’t want to go backward, but if this was my one chance to help my son . . .
“I should call Jase,” I mumbled, giving in.
“Jase Caruthers?” James asked. “That kid’s father, right?”
I glanced at Madoc, his face buried in his phone, and nodded.
James plucked my phone out of my hand and held it securely. “You don’t need him,” he maintained. “Let me try to deal with this.”
“Why? Why do you want to help?”
He looked like he was searching for words. “Because I love Jared,” he admitted. “He’s a little shit, but I care what happens to him.” He handed my phone back. “You don’t need Jase Caruthers. You have friends. We’ll handle this.”
I squeezed the phone, meeting his eyes. Did he know? Jase and I had stopped seeing each other a few months after James and Tate moved in next door. Had he seen Jase there, coming in late?
Christ. What he must think of me.
“Jared’s been falling apart for a long time,” James spoke softly, careful not to let Madoc hear. “I kept my mouth shut out of respect, because I didn’t feel it was my place, but every kid needs at least one person to think that the world rises and sets with them, and I don’t think . . .”