Page 7 of Sanction

I nod, feeling a twinge of pride. I mean, I did play a vital role here.

The shop door swings open and Maverick comes in, followed by Travis.

“I see you two have met,” my mom beams.

“Yeah, I’m gonna show him the back really quick.” Maverick motions for the other door, and I watch them exit through the back.

“Maybe they can be friends,” I suggest.

My mom silently watches and I can see a faraway look in her eyes. Like she knows something I don’t.

“Yeah. I think that’s what Travis needs.”

I frown, not understanding the sudden shift in her mood, so I decide to go check on Preach and Widow.

Dad and Maverick had to leave early, so I stayed with mom for the last two hours. She sent all the boys home and we locked up before loading into her silver Tahoe.

“I’m starved!” I whine as we pull out of the gate.

“We will be home in five minutes, child.”

I rest my head against the window and watch the sidewalk as we drive down the road. A figure walking along the street ahead caught my attention.

“Is that Travis walking?” I ask.

It’s almost dark, so it’s hard to tell.

“I think so…” My mom furrows her brows and slows down as we come up next to him.

She rolls down the window. “Travis, you need a ride?”

He slows his steps and comes to a stop, hiking his bag up onto his shoulder as his eyes dart around.

“Uh, no ma’am. I’m good.”

“You sure? Where you headed?” Mom asks.

“I ummm, I’m just headed over that way.” He points down a dark alleyway.

My mom tilts her head. “Where are you staying?”

He coughs and looks around. His eyes meet mine for a second before he shifts his gaze.

“Travis. Get in the car.” My mom orders.

“Really, ma’am, I appreciate it, but I’m okay.”

“If I have to call Zane I will. Now get in the car.” My mom’s tone shows she means business, so he reaches for the handle and slides in without another argument.

We pull off and it’s awkwardly silent. I fidget with the buttons on my shirt as we drive towards the house.

“I'm a mom, Travis. Which means I have a very good gauge on lying teenage boys. So, I’m going to ask you one more time. Where are you staying?”

Travis sighs. “I don’t have a place to stay.”

My heart breaks. How does he not have a home? Doesn’t he have parents who love him? I side eye my mom who has her focus trained on the road, but I see a tear fall.

“Then you will stay with us,” she says quietly.

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