Page 71 of When Wildflowers Bloom

Touching.

Kissing.

My face heats, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m actually embarrassed or becauseit feltsogood.

I roll to face him. His arms reach overhead at the same time his toes scrape against my legs as he straightens in a stretch with a muffled groan and sleepy smile.

Seeing Bo in ordinary circumstances is a beautiful thing, but him wearing only my white blanket with tousled hair and half-awake eyes is pure sunshine.

“Tell me something you like,” he says, notes of sleep still in his voice.

“This,” I say, propping up on my elbow.

His brown eyes search mine. “Why?”

“Because of you,” slips easily off my tongue, and to my own surprise, I don’t look away when I say it. “Tell me somethingyoulike.” I reach my hand over and run my fingers through his beard. It’s somehow both coarse and soft, like him.

He grins, catching my wrist with his hand, kissing my palm, and says, “Mabel’s books.”

I laugh through a groan, dropping my face into a pillow.

The bed vibrates with his laugh, and he rolls closer. One of his hands squeezes my ass as he kisses my shoulder through my hair. Then as if it isn’t even happening, he rolls the other way, already getting dressed when I lift my head.

“You’re leaving?” I hadn’t expected that, but of course he is. He can’t stay here forever.

He grins. “Eventually. But I knowyoukeep extra toothbrushes, so I’m going to go find one, then I want to make you breakfast.” He pauses, tugging his shirt on. “Actually, Iwantto stay in bed with you all day, but I’mgoingto go make you breakfast.Then—”

“Birdie! Birdie!” My screamed name cuts the air, replacing my desire for Bo with an instant shot of panic.

Huck.

Bo’s eyes widen as I launch out of bed, throwing on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and race down the hall. I’ve never heard Huck scream like this, and every cell in my body knows it means something is wrong.

I open the front door, spotting an unfamiliar car on the street. Miss Alice and another woman stand with Huck on the sidewalk, dragging him toward it.

“Birdie!” he screams again when he sees me. “Birdie! Birdie!” His face is red, eyes wide. Panicked.

“Huck, I need you to calm down,” Miss Alice says, trying to soothe him while she tugs his arm.

“What’s going on?” I ask, running across the yard. “Huck, are you okay?” I drop to my knees next to him.

“Huck, are you okay?” he mimics. Adrenaline won’t let me rephrase myself.

“Miss Alice?” I look at her, desperation in my voice.

“Birdie, Steve had an episode last night, we had to take him to the hospital—it’s nothing, they just kept him over night to be monitored—but Huck has to go to another foster home, this is his social worker, Sharon.”

“What?” NowI’mshouting. “No!” My eyes burn instantly. “No! You can’t take him!”

I look at the other woman, Sharon. Desperate. “I started the paperwork to adopt him. My home visit is in a couple weeks, he can stay with me.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, it doesn’t work like that ma’am. Unless you’re a designated foster parent, he can’t just stay with you.” Despite her sincerity, rage boils in my chest and panic pinches my throat and chest like a vise.

I’m clutching Huck now, so tightly it’s as though I’m afraid loosening my grip will make him disappear. “That’s bullshit!” I yell at them both. “It’s bullshit and you know it.”

I look at Huck, cupping my hands on his face, forcing his gaze to mine. “I wonder if Huck wants to live with Birdie.”

“Yes,” he says, loud, nodding too many times through his tears. “Huck wants to live with Birdie.”

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