Page 49 of Ace of Spades

“What was wrong with her? Why was she crying?” I growl out.

Evie shakes her head. “You know I can’t answer that.”

Her eyes are sunken like she hasn’t slept in days.

And I rub a hand down my face.

“Evie, we can’t keep doing this.”

“I didn’t ask you to come all the way here. I was just… tired. A–and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Did she eat? When was the last time you fed her?”

“I-I..” Evie rubs her arm, looking down at her bare feet. “I can’t remember.”

“You–” I curse under my breath. “Goddammit. You need help, Evie.”

“I’m fine,” she says.

“You arenotfine. Look at you! You’re strung out, aren’t you?”

She swallows and takes a step back, stabilizing herself on the wall behind her.

“Jesus, Evie. Thiscan’tkeep happening. You can’t keep calling me and expect me not to do something.”

“I’m trying, okay,” she whispers out. “I don’t know how to do this right, but I am trying, Levi.”

My heart shatters.

What do you do when somebody you used to love, can’t help themselves? What do you do when they can’t take care of others because they themselves are too broken?

And what if the choices you made drove them to that brokenness?

In an instant, I know what I need to do.

“Pack her a bag. She’s coming home with me,” I say, stepping past Evie and opening the door to the room she’s blocking.

Inside, on a mattress on the floor with no sheets on it, sleeps the little brown haired girl.

She has a baby blanket draped over her that’s not nearly big enough to cover her entire body. She’s sucking on her thumb, holding onto a baby doll whose hair looks like a rat’s nest all it’s own.

I can’t let her live like this.

I won’t. I don’t care that she’s not my kid.

I scoop the sleeping child into my arms, and she only opens her eyes to see that it’s me, before she snuggles against my chest and falls back asleep.

Evie stays staring at me.

“Pack her a bag, Evie.”

Without another word, Evie nods and pulls a backpack out of the closet, stuffing it with unfolded clothes from a hamper that’s sitting next to it.

I can’t even guarantee that the clothes are clean, but come morning, I’ll make sure Josie has everything she needs.

Enough is enough.

She hands me the backpack with limp arms.

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