“Two nights ago, a woman from a place called Harbor House Outreach came to the motel. Said they help families in transition. Said they could place Noah fast. Said they had sponsors. Said if I cooperated, this could all be very smooth.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
Neither did Mama Bear, who chose that exact moment to blow through the diner door like a storm in steel-toe boots.
She took one look at Madison’s face and Noah’s hollow little eyes and didn’t bother sitting.
“Who’s in the SUV?” she asked.
Madison’s shoulders went tight.
“The outreach woman’s driver,” she said. “Or maybe security. I don’t know. Nice suit. Fake smile. He found us at the bus depot this afternoon after I said no again.”
“Why you running from them?” Mama Bear asked.
Madison looked offended.
Then ashamed of being offended.
Then angry about that too.
“Because she didn’t talk to Noah like he was a child,” Madison said. “She talked to him like he was a product already sold.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Madison swallowed.
“She said there was a donor event tomorrow night in Bellmere. She said if I told our story on camera, a sponsor might fund a sibling placement for both of us.”
The booth went silent.
Even Buster lifted his head.
There it was.
The rotten heart of it.
Not a bed.
Not safety.
An audition.
“How much camera?” Leo asked.
Madison’s mouth twisted.
“She said just enough.”
Mama Bear muttered something that would have blistered varnish.
I didn’t stop her.
Madison wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“I said no. She said then I should stop pretending I cared about my brother more than my pride.”
Noah’s face crumpled.
Madison immediately leaned across and pulled him into her side.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t.
Not even close.
A kid shouldn’t have to trade privacy for shelter.
A girl shouldn’t have to stand under diner lights and decide whether her brother eats only if strangers get a good enough look at her pain.
