Page 65 of Stupid Dirty

If someone asks who I am, what do I say? I can’t out him to his coworkers. But standing this far away from him while he’s hurting is already killing me.

Fuck. I need an adult to tell me what I’m supposed to do. I’ve never felt less like an adult than right now. Cade walks back to me after talking with the nurse. He doesn’t say anything, but he leads me through the winding, curtain-lined ER hallways with purpose until we get to the elevators that take us to the general inpatient unit.

It’s not a large hospital, so there’s no pediatrics wing, apparently. If she were more seriously injured, they would have airlifted her to a specialist, but according to the nurses, the burns aren’t that severe. They admitted her for treatment and want to keep her overnight for observation and some IV pain management, but she can go home tomorrow.

By the time we get to the room, Sky’s already asleep. They gave her pretty heavy pain meds while they cleaned the wounds, and she’s got bandages covering huge chunks of her arms. Her face is peaceful, and I have no doubt she’s medicated enough not to feel a thing, but it all makes her look so small.

Sky is always larger than life. Her energy and personality take up ten times as much space as her body, just like Cade. Right now, she seems fragile.

And as Cade rushes in to kneel on the floor next to her, silently brushing the hair out of her face, so does he.

Maddi is slumped in a chair, leaning over her sister on the opposite side of the bed. She’s pale, highlighting the bags under her eyes, and the sheer weariness rolling off her makes her seem closer to thirty than thirteen.

As soon as Cade walks in, though, she brightens. She runs over to him, letting him scoop her up for a tight hug. There’s onlya few seconds where she returns it before she starts crying into his shoulder, babbling the same endless, guilt-stricken apologies I heard pouring out of the phone on the drive over. Cade eventually takes her seat, pulling her into his lap and cradling her like a little kid.

She goes willingly, and it doesn’t take long for him to get her settled. No amount of guilt or anguish can stop her natural, practical personality from coming out, and as soon as Cade asks her questions about where Kris is, Maddi swipes her tears away and puts her game face back on.

“She’s with the social worker,” Maddi says. The tension in her voice tells me she trusts CPS about as much as Cade does. “I already had my interview, but I didn’t tell her anything. I just said Mom was asleep, and there was a fire. They can’t prove anything. It was an accident!”

“Itwasan accident,” Cade whispers, looking her pointedly in the eye as he tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

They seem to realize they’ve hit an impasse, so they both drop the conversation and we all sink back into silence. Maddi huddles deeper into Cade’s chest while he strokes his hand lazily up and down her back. I hover beside them, my hands shoved in my pockets. I feel awkward, but also like I couldn’t physically move away from them if I tried.

Eventually, a doctor walks by the open door and tosses her head at Cade to join her in the hallway. Nodding, he tries to stand up, but Maddi squeezes him tighter and makes a whimpering sound that’s fucking heartbreaking.

She is the strongest, most level-headed kid I think I’ve ever met. Seeing her torn apart like this, acting like a little kid desperate for comfort, is hard to watch.

“Silas?” His voice is soft, and he only has to look at me for me to know what he means.

I lean over them both, scooping Maddi up and pulling her to me. She sniffs again, but shifts to burrow into my chest the same way she did to Cade without protest. It feels strange, in a way. A few months ago, these girls were strangers to me, and it’s not like I have any experience being around kids.

But what’s stranger is how easy it’s been to feel like a brother to them. Between the amount of time I spend at the trailer, and the incredible example Cade sets, it just fits. I’ve never experienced having siblings. I’ve never experienced having a family that I’m close to. But if the fierce protectiveness that’s running through me right now is any indication, I’m probably getting there.

Maddi is so hard-working, and she doesn’t ask for shit. If she wants to sit in my lap and cry and snot on my hoodie for the rest of the night, she fucking deserves that.

Cade slips out of the chair, pausing briefly to look at the two of us with an unreadable expression. Then we switch places as I sink down into the chair, holding Maddi close, and he goes into the hallway to talk to the doctor in hushed tones. He’s out there for a while, but I don’t eavesdrop. He’ll tell me what he wants me to know. Maddi isn’t crying anymore, although her breathing is still ragged, so I try to copy the soothing way that Cade was stroking her back until she settles further into me.

A hesitant calm settles over us, so I close my eyes, letting my mind go blank. I don’t know how much time passes, but when I open them again, Cade is back in the room. He’s standing just inside the doorway, leaning against the wall and staring at me with dark, intense eyes.

I want to say something. I want to ask him how he’s feeling, or tell him I’m here for him. I want to tell him it’s okay to be upset, but that this isn’t his fault.

Before I can get any words out, we’re interrupted.

Kris comes shuffling back into the room. Her body is bowed and hunched in on itself, making her look even more frail than usual, and a pang of sympathy for her runs through me. I’m angry at her, too, but I’m also realistic.

There are no winners here. Everybody’s hurting. Everybody seems to be piling enough guilt on themselves without it being added to.

From the look on Cade’s face, he isn’t thinking the same thing. Anger flashes in his eyes, and he’s already opening his mouth to unleash what I can only imagine will be a tirade of nastiness when someone walks into the room behind Kris.

It’s a middle-aged woman with dark hair in a long braid, a sensible but soft-looking sweater, and a clipboard in her hands.

Every inch of her screamssocial worker.

Cade’s mouth snaps shut on whatever he was about to say. The woman introduces herself as Rosemary and is apparently the hospital social worker, not from CPS. Kris gave consent to let her interview everyone, because Kris is so dazed she’d agree to anything right now.

Rosemary emphasizes that this is all standard procedure for when a child gets injured and no one is getting blamed, but none of us are buying it. She turns to me next, thinking I’m Cade. When I shake my head and Cade steps in front of her, a series of micro-expressions flits over her face.

Surprise, then adjusting and turning her attention to Cade, then back to me. I can see the wheels turning as she tries to figure out why there’s an unrelated adult man with a thirteen-year-old girl huddled in his arms, and her analytical gaze makes me want to cower away, even though I haven’t done anything wrong.

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