he nearest big city was Los Angeles. Neesha had gone to the library, to look at a map, but the librarian had waved to her and said, “There was a man here yesterday, and I think he was looking for you,” so she made up an excuse—Oh, I forgot my phone—and hurried away.

She went instead to a bookstore and wandered until she found some maps in a rack. And she knew the writing that said Las Vegas—she could recognize that and she found it, and found the next-nearest big dot. She’d stopped a friendly-looking woman with a baby in a stroller and asked for help. English was her second language, could she please pronounce this city’s name for her?

Los Angeles.

She’d gone from there to the bus depot and with her heart pounding, watching all the time for Mr. Nelson or Todd or their men, she stood in line. She’d been here before, hoping that she could sneak onto a bus and leave the city. But she’d seen the security. She saw how it worked. People would come to this counter, hand over their little plastic cards or bills similar to the one she’d taken from Ben’s sister’s client. They were given a piece of paper that they would then show to the driver as they boarded their bus.

At last it was her turn and she moved to the counter. She was separated from the woman who sat back there by a thick window of plastic, although there was a narrow hole at the bottom.

“Destination,” the woman said, her voice sounding strange and metallic. Neesha didn’t know what that meant and she froze.

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Where are you going?” she said, still in that metallic voice, but much more slowly, each word carefully pronounced.

That Neesha knew. “Los Angeles.”

“One way or round-trip?”

Again, Neesha had no clue. She shook her head.

“Child, where is your mother?” the woman said.

Another question she could answer. “She’s dead.”

“Oh, Lordy,” the woman said. “Okay, all right. Are you coming back to Las Vegas or are you planning to stay in L.A.?”

L.A.—she’d heard of L.A. on the television. Was that the same as Los Angeles? She hoped so.

“I’m not coming back,” Neesha said.

“One way, then,” the woman told her. “Cash or credit?”

Cash was another word for the money Neesha had taken, so she took the bill from her pocket now, and slid it through the slot beneath the plastic window.

“What’s this?” the woman said, as if she didn’t recognize it.

“Cash,” Neesha said.

“Oh, honey, this is just a fraction of what you need for a ticket to L.A.”

Neesha didn’t know fraction and she stared at the woman in confusion.

“One way to L.A. is fifty-five dollars,” the woman told her, pushing the bill back out that slot. “You’re thirty-five dollars short.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. Child, if you need help—”

Neesha shook her head as she took the money she’d stolen, jammed it back into her pocket, and hurried away.

She was running out of both options and time.

Ben was asleep when Izzy came back to the hospital.

Eden went out into the hall so their conversation wouldn’t wake him.

“He’s doing well,” she reported. “The nurse went to see about getting him discharged so we can bring him home. We have to sign some special paper, some kind of disclaimer or something, because they’d prefer to keep him overnight, but his insurance won’t cover it, and since Danny’s getting a little nutty about all the money, I thought … Besides, he’s good. Ben. He says he feels much better and he really wants to leave, and since he’s been dealing with the diabetes for years … I trust him to have a good read on his own body.”

“Good,” Izzy said. “That’s good. If you trust him, I trust him, too.”

She was staring up at him—she knew it, and she forced herself to blink, to smile. “Good,” she repeated, too—a little inanely.

Izzy did that to her. It was weird. When he was with her, as he’d been nonstop since yesterday, she got slightly more used to his presence. But after he’d been gone, even just for the few hours during which he’d driven Dan and Jenn back to her apartment?

Seeing him again gave her a real jolt.

It wasn’t that he was the most handsome man she’d ever encountered, because he wasn’t. He had a lot of uneven edges and sharp angles to his face—a certain cragginess. That was the best word for it, and even that wasn’t quite right.

There was an honesty to him—a tactlessness, at times—and it was reflected in the expressions that he wore. His face was constantly in motion, and when he did become still, it was almost startling. And when he smiled …?

He was beyond beautiful.

Eden had spent some time last night, just watching him smiling in his sleep.

But his face wasn’t the only thing that gave her a jolt upon seeing him again.

He was tall—taller than most men—and powerfully built, with upper arms that were probably wider in circumference than Ben’s thighs, which okay, wasn’t really saying that much because Ben was such a twig, but still. When Izzy wore a T-shirt like the one he was wearing now, it really emphasized how muscular he was. And the shorts … He always wore the style that went all the way down to his knees and had plenty of pockets of all kinds that he kept filled with Lord knows what, yet the cut still managed to showcase the rather ridiculously nice butt that Eden knew was beneath. Although seriously? A man who looked the way Izzy did when he was naked should’ve been required to never wear clothes. His legs were long and tan, his calves covered with sun-bleached hair. He was wearing sandals—the kind with a tread on the bottom, that he could run in—and even his feet looked big and strong.

But it was Izzy’s eyes that Eden found herself transfixed by—as lovely as the rest of him was to look at, even while unclad. It was his eyes—and the life and humor and heat she found within them—that amplified his smile and took her breath away.

“What,” he said now as he gazed back at her, and she realized that she was staring again. He wiped his mouth with his hand. “Do I have pizza on me? I have to confess that I stopped to get a slice. I got one for you, but I kind of ate it, too.” He made a face. “Sorry. I’m an ass. Say the word, and I’ll go back—”

“No, that’s okay,” she said. “I’m not really hungry and … I’m going to make Ben dinner when we get home, so …”

“Two slices is just an appetizer,” he said. “I’m completely up for dinner, too.”

“Or maybe we should stop somewhere,” Eden said, “so we don’t bother Danny and Jenn. Did you get them set up okay?”

“Done and done,” Izzy told her. “I put them in your bedroom and I didn’t have to wrestle Dan to the death to do it. Oh, and I found the clean sheets where you said they were, no problem. I also got the pullout bed made up for us—well, sort of. The mattress is pretty crappy and the metal frame wasn’t … Whatever. It’s fine. Long story short, Jenn helped me put the mattress directly on the living-room floor. We also got the air mattress inflated for Ben. Jenn put sheets on it, too—it’s all ready to go.”

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“Danny’s still hurting pretty badly. Plus, he’s running on empty after all the travel,” Izzy told her, “which is frustrating the shit out of him. By the time I left, he was already in bed. I was glad Jenn was there, to babysit him.”

Eden glanced at Izzy’s watch, which she was wearing on her wrist. Even at the tightest setting of the strap, it was still loose and she had to turn it to see the time.

It was barely 6:30, which meant it was barely 9:30 eastern time. Which was very wimpy for Dan, who often went for days without more than a nap, even with jet lag.

“Oh, good,” Izzy said as he saw his watch. “You have it. I was wondering where …”

“Dan picked it up,” Eden said as she unfastened it and handed it back to him. “He, um, gave it to me with a disapproving glare before he and Jenn left.”

Izzy met her eyes. “Awkward,” he said in a singsongy voice, which made her laugh, despite her embarrassment. “Although, to be fair, sweetheart, we are married. He’s the one who’s carrying on outside the bonds of holy matrimony. A million-to-one odds says that fireworks and rainbows are exploding over your apartment complex right about …” He glanced at his watch. “Now. That Jennilyn LeMay is no idiot. She negotiated their alone time like a pro—and not because she and Dan wanted the privacy to sing Michael Jackson’s greatest hits.”

Eden laughed and let the struggles and problems of the day fall away from her. And yet, at the same time, she suddenly, desperately wanted to cry. Izzy was being Izzy, but he still wasn’t quite the same Izzy that he’d been last summer, when he’d married her. Now there was an edge to him, as if he didn’t give a crap about anything but getting with her again. And again. And again.

Although, really, what did she expect?

“Plus, think about it,” Izzy continued. “Do you really think Danny-Danny-bo-banny could snag a woman as classy as Jenn, based purely on his witty charm and sunny personality?” He answered his own question. “Not a chance. Girlfriend’s hooked up with him to get some of that first-class Gillman boo-tay.”

Jenn wasn’t the only one.

And he echoed Eden’s very thought by leaning close and lowering his voice. “I, too, am fond of fireworks and rainbows. I’m thinking we can have that dinner, bring Ben home, get him set up with some popcorn in front of the TV, and then? After it’s nice and dark? Find a reason to run that errand, maybe go in search of a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. Fill a fictional prescription or pick up some of that shampoo that you just ran out of that you absolutely must have …?”

“Not fictional,” Eden said, loving the feel of his body next to hers. He was so solid, she just wanted to lean against him and lose herself in his arms. “The prescription. Ben needs to get more glucagon. He used some recently and … Kids with diabetes use it when they have a sudden severe low—low blood sugar. It’s kind of like the opposite of insulin. He’s supposed to have two doses on hand at all times, and we should get that refilled, so …”

“Two is one and one is none,” Izzy murmured. “It’s a Navy SEAL philosophy.”

“A Navy SEAL and a gay, diabetic kid,” she said. “Who knew you’d have so much in common.”

“You know, one of the guys in our team is,” Izzy said. “Gay. Not diabetic. You can’t be a SEAL if you’re diabetic. But you can if you’re gay.”

“Seriously?” Eden asked.

He nodded. “Don’t ask, don’t tell—so I’m not going to tell you his name, but … Yeah.”

“And … Danny knows?”

Izzy nodded again, his eyes on her mouth, like he was thinking about kissing her.

Eden moistened her lips—she couldn’t help herself. But she wasn’t ready for this conversation to be over, so she leaned back a little. Just a little. “Do you think that’s why he’s so okay about Ben? Because he knows this other guy who’s …?”

“I do,” Izzy said.

“I was a little worried,” she confessed, “that Danny was going to side with Greg, and then I’d have to fight them both. If I could’ve, I would’ve just taken Ben and disappeared. But you can’t go off the grid with a kid who needs insulin shots.”

“I’m really glad you didn’t,” Izzy said, using one finger to push her hair behind her ear. It was the slightest of touches and yet it sent a clear message that was echoed in the heat in his eyes.

Ben’s glucagon prescription wasn’t the only thing that was going to be filled tonight. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

“Fireworks and rainbows,” Eden said, wanting him to laugh, “and marching bands. Personally, I like it when there’s a marching band.”

And he did laugh at that, his smile softening his face, but in no way eliminating the heat in his eyes. If anything, his eyes grew hotter.

He shifted even closer so that their thighs touched, so that her breasts brushed his chest, and God, she wanted to run out to the drugstore right then and there. “I can deliver a marching band,” he promised her. “And …? A tiny car filled with clowns.”

Now she was the one who was laughing. “I think that’s probably more scary than romantic. I mean, in the cosmic scheme of things.”

“Hmm,” he said. “So you think marching bands are romantic. Interesting.”

“Romantic’s the wrong word,” she said. “Maybe … passionate. Marching bands are like fireworks—passionate and … Well, not at all subtle.”

“Passionate and not at all subtle can be delivered at a moment’s notice,” he murmured, pulling her face up to finally give her that kiss.

And oh, Lord, he was, absolutely, delivering passionate and not at all subtle, and it was impossible not to melt against him, to all but beg him to devour her, her hands in his hair, her body tight against him.

“And why am I not surprised, missy,” a reedy and all too familiar voice interrupted, “to find you behaving wantonly in a public corridor.”

Eden pulled away even as Izzy let her go and there he was.

Greg.

Her mother’s latest husband—Eden was loath to call him her stepfather—was coming down the hall with the nurse who’d gone to get Ben’s discharge papers.

His face was pinched from the effort of walking farther than from the couch to the kitchen, and his limp was pronounced. Which could well have been an act, because in the years that Eden had lived with him, he’d frequently played the pity card while out in public.

But there was a big difference between making people feel sorry and making them feel repulsed—and he was definitely in danger of the second. And not just to Eden.

He’d combed his greasy hair for the occasion, but he’d missed a spot that was still tangled. His fly was thankfully zipped, but his pants were less than clean, with a big stain on his left thigh and a slight tear in the knee. He was wearing a navy-blue windbreaker that seemed oddly out of place in the evening heat. Eden knew it was to cover his shirt—he’d probably spilled something on it, on the drive over. He kept the jacket in his car for that very purpose.

“It’s Mrs. Zanella now, not missy.” Izzy didn’t hesitate. He stepped protectively in front of Eden. “And you’re not welcome here.”

“I’m the boy’s father,” Greg said.

“No, you’re not.” Eden said it in near-perfect unison with Izzy.

“Yes, actually,” Greg said. “I am. I adopted him after your mother and I were married. When we found out she was no longer able to have another child, which was disappointing, but … It was clearly God’s will.”

Dear Lord, wouldn’t that have been awful? A toddler living in that house. Eden didn’t want even to think about it.

“God moves in mysterious ways,” Greg continued sanctimoniously. “He made Benjamin my son for a reason. He wants me in his life.”

“Your wife—Ben’s mother,” Izzy said far more quietly and evenly than Eden would have managed, “gave him permission to live with his brother, Dan, in San Diego.”

“But not with her,” Greg said with a dismissive glance at Eden.

“Eden is Ben’s sister,” Izzy said, and there was hard steel hiding beneath his still fairly easygoing tone as he put his arm around her, his hand warm at her waist. “She’s also my wife. You should keep that in mind, in case you’re thinking about insulting her.”

Izzy smiled at Greg, and even though it touched his eyes, it was different from his usual grin. And Eden remembered him smiling like that last July, while they were in serious danger, under siege from an army of men who’d kidnapped her and wanted to kill them both. She didn’t remember much about that night because she’d gone into premature labor and had lost a lot of blood. Most of it was a blur of pain and fear.

But she did remember Izzy and his promises. Everything’s going to be all right …

And she remembered his smile.

The nurse who was with Greg shifted—obviously uncertain and wondering if she should hand the discharge papers to Greg or to Eden.

Eden took the decision—and the papers—out of the woman’s hands. “Ben’s coming with us. We’re going to take him to Danny, who isn’t here right now only because he was recently injured in Afghanistan—surviving a near-death incident, much to your disappointment, I’m sure.” She felt Izzy caution her, his hand tightening on her arm.

“I don’t care if you’re going to take him to live in the White House, or with the man in the moon,” Greg shot back, letting his voice get louder. “He’s my son, and I will not just give him away! Not until he’s cured of his illness.”

“Cured …?” Eden started.

“Okay,” Izzy said, stepping between them again. “Hold on …”

But her argument with Greg had woken Ben, who called for her from his hospital room. “Eden …?” His voice broke with his anxiety and he sounded like the frightened child he’d once been.

“I’m right here, Boo-Boo,” Eden reassured him, rushing toward his room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But Greg spoke over her. “Get dressed and gather up your things, boy,” he ordered as he followed her into Ben’s room. “I’m taking you home.”

Ben was horrified when he realized that he was right—he had heard his stepfather’s voice. He was sitting up in bed, his blanket clutched to his skinny chest as he looked from Eden to Greg to Izzy and the nurse, who had followed them in.

Eden gave him her best Izzy smile and reassured him. “I’m not letting him take you anywhere.” She spun to stop Greg, getting right in his face even though his breath was awful. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s easy enough to arrange,” Greg said.

And Izzy took him down.

One minute she and Greg were standing there, nose-to-nose, and the next, Izzy had pushed her back, out of the way. She bumped into Ben’s bed with the backs of her legs as Izzy and Greg hit the floor. And she realized that Greg had reached into the pocket of his windbreaker, where, for all they knew, he could well have been packing his handgun.

Then Greg was howling, with his face against the tile, Izzy’s big knee jammed into the middle of his back, his right arm twisted up behind him as the SEAL searched him for a weapon.

And came up empty-handed.

The nurse had already dashed away, no doubt to call for security, as Greg continued to scream, “You broke my arm! You broke my arm!”

Izzy looked up at Eden, absolutely no apology in his eyes. “I wasn’t willing to wait and see if he was carrying,” he said. “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat, but … The shit’s about to hit the fan.” He aimed his next words to Greg. “It’s not broken, asshole. Believe me, if it was broken, you’d know it.” He then included Ben in what he was saying, raising his voice so they could hear him over Greg’s noise. “You both need to keep a clear head, stay cool, okay? Whoever’s coming might get rough with me, but that’s okay.”

“It is not—” Eden started.

Izzy cut her off. “Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m a kind of large guy and that’s going to scare the guards, so they’re going to get loud when they see me. But they’re not going to hurt me, I don’t bruise easily, and it is going to be okay. Nod your head—it’s okay. Ben, you too. Come on, help me out here.”

Eden nodded jerkily, and she turned to see Ben nod, too.

“Excellent. Eden, call your brother and Jenn,” Izzy continued. “We could use them down here—understatement. And Ben? Look at me, bro. This is going to be okay. Seriously. No one’s going to make you go home with numbnuts here.” He looked down at Greg. “Last chance, asshole. If I let you up, will you walk away? Let Ben go to San Diego with—”

Whatever Greg said as he continued to sob, it clearly wasn’t what Izzy’d hoped to hear, because he shook his head with regret. “Okay then,” Izzy said as he looked back at Ben. “You’ve got the power, kid. You listening to me?”

Ben nodded again.

“The nurse is going to come back in here,” Izzy told Ben, “and you need to pull her aside and say this: Ask me if I feel safe with Greg. And when she does, you answer her honestly—you got that?”

But Ben didn’t get a chance to respond, because time was up.

And sure enough, two security guards came into the room, and when they saw Izzy, with Greg still pinned beneath him, they got loud, just as he’d said they would.

Izzy was calm and he just kept talking in that even, unruffled voice, now to the guards. “My name is Irving Zanella, I’m an active-duty Navy SEAL, just back from Afghanistan, and I am on your side. This is my father-in-law, who threatened my wife and her brother with a loaded handgun just yesterday. When he reached into his pocket as he was threatening my wife here today? I wasn’t going to wait to see if he was stupid enough to carry concealed in a hospital. Turns out he’s not. His arm is not broken, regardless of what he’s saying …”

Despite all the shouting and noise, in the middle of all of the chaos, Izzy looked over at Eden and smiled.

And she was pretty certain that, before the guards led both men out of Ben’s room, she heard Izzy humming a bar or two of the song that went Three cheers for the red, white, and blue—a tune that was most frequently performed by marching bands.

The police officer was hot. He was young, and he had dark hair that he wore longer than Ben would have expected from an officer who used that much starch in his uniform. But maybe his hair just grew really quickly and he hadn’t had time to get it cut.

He had a baby face that made him look a little bit like he’d dressed up as a cop for Halloween, and he sighed as Ben finished telling his story for a second time.

“Lemme see your arms again,” he said, and Ben obediently held out his hands, palms up.

His wrists were bruised and sore, the skin red and scraped from being cuffed to the cot by the plastic restraints all night. His shoulders were sore, too. But there wasn’t any visible proof of that.

The nurse—her name was Betsy—who hadn’t left his side since he’d asked her for protection from his stepfather, made an anguished noise low in her throat. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that when you were admitted,” she said.

“I was trying to hide it,” Ben told her. “I was embarrassed. Besides, I thought it was over. I thought I was safe.”

It was a magic word, safe. He was thankful Izzy had told him to use it.

But maybe he’d used it too often, because the cop—Officer Kellen was his name—tilted his head, and said, “Your father’s insisting that your brother-in-law, Irving Zanella—coached you as to what to say to us.”

Ben shook his head, no. “Izzy told me how to ask for help,” he said. “And he told me to be honest. That’s all.”

“This is a big deal, son,” Kellen said. “So if you’re not being honest—”

“I am,” Ben said. “And while I really appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me, would you mind, very much, not calling me son? I have a problem with people who really aren’t that much older than me trying to be paternal. Or maybe you’re playing the folksy card—trust me, it’s not working. And as long as I’m being bitchy here about what we call each other? Greg Fortune is not my father. He says he legally adopted me? If he did, I didn’t have a say in it.”

Kellen sighed again as he flipped through the pages of notes he’d taken with his ridiculous stub of a pencil. “And you think if you went home with him …?”

“I have no doubt, whatsoever,” Ben said, holding the police officer’s steady gaze, “that he would send me back to Crossroads—and that I’ll spend tonight cuffed to a bed, too.”

Kellen glanced at the nurse. “I gotta be honest. This is a new one, for me. The father—Greg—is saying the same thing. But he claims it’s no different from a military school, that yeah, they’re strict …”

And so much for Ben’s hopes that he’d lucked out and gotten a police officer who’d actually marched in the Pride Parade. But the nurse leaped to his defense.

“This boy ended up in the hospital,” she said sharply, “because this man who claims to be his father neglected to mention that his alleged son was diabetic before sending him to that awful place!”

“He’s contrite about that,” Kellen said. “He said it was an oversight. A simple miscommunication. They’ve now been informed—it won’t happen again. Parents are allowed to make mistakes.” He looked at Ben, and sighed again.

It was over. He’d lost.

And now Ben was going to throw up. Or faint. Or both. He pushed his chair back from the table and put his head down between his knees and breathed as he tried not to shake.

He could feel the nurse’s hand on his back, but she couldn’t help him. It was up to Officer Kellen to decide whether or not he should get the Department of Child Protective Services involved or send Ben back home.

So Ben pushed himself up as far as he could, his elbows on his knees, because Jesus, he could still keel over any second, so he wanted to keep his center of gravity low. And he looked at the man and he begged.

“Please,” he said, with his heart in his throat. “I’m not a bad person. I know I got picked up for truancy yesterday, but that was because my stepfather hit me, and I was staying with my sister, and I was afraid he’d find me if I went to school. The detectives scared me, and I ran. I shouldn’t’ve—I know that. But it hasn’t happened before, and it won’t happen again. My grades are okay, I keep my head down, and I don’t get into trouble. The only thing I’m guilty of is being gay. Being honest about it. And that’s not going to change by being tied up, or starved or sleep-deprived. That’s what they do there—at Crossroads. There’s another boy in there. He was in my cell for a few hours last night—he was tied up, too. His name is Peter Sinclair—write that down, too, okay? Sinclair. He’s been there for months, against his will. He was tied up by his feet because his wrists were bandaged—he told me he tried to kill himself so he’d get sent to the hospital, but they didn’t let him go. They’re withholding food from him and they’re keeping him from sleeping, too—they moved him out of the cell before I woke up. What they’re doing isn’t being strict—it’s fucked up.” He glanced at the nurse. “Excuse me. But it is. And it’s abuse. And you know what? Even if you could squint your eyes and pretend that it’s an appropriate punishment for kids who are bad, that it’s not that different from what they do at those schools that are called military schools, but have nothing to do with the military and everything to do with discarded kids whose parents can’t handle them? Even if you believe that, then you need to ask yourself if I really deserve to be punished for doing nothing worse than simply being me.”

Officer Kellen was clenching his teeth, the muscle jumping in the side of his face as he tapped his pencil stub against the name—Peter Sinclair—that he’d just written on a fresh page of his notepad.

“Please,” Ben said again. “Go over there and talk to Peter before you let Greg send me back. And maybe? If you have even half of a heart, you’ll get him, and every other kid who doesn’t want to be there out of there, too.”

“Okay,” Jenn said as she closed her phone and came back inside, into the hospital lobby, where Dan was waiting with his sister and Izzy. Dan was sitting with his head back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed. His eyes had been closed, but he opened them now. She knew he was running on empty. He’d fallen asleep midsentence, just a few hours earlier, after she’d given him his requested “massage.” “Here’s what Linda told me.”

“Who’s Linda?” Izzy asked. Apparently the police officer who’d made the scene after the SEAL had had his altercation with Dan’s stepfather had decided that Izzy’s rough treatment of Greg had been warranted. It probably helped that Greg was as Looney Tunes crazy as he looked, and that he truly believed he had the right to use threat of death from a loaded weapon to discipline a teenager. Last Jenn had heard, Ben’s stepfather had been talking to the police officer—Kellen was the young cop’s name—and earnestly insisting that everything he’d done was completely okay. It was tough love. And yes, he was, absolutely, intending to send Ben back to Crossroads, as soon as possible …

“Linda’s the lawyer that Maria recommended.” Eden filled him in as Jenn stuck her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans and sat down next to Danny. “Maria Bonavita—the assemblywoman that Jenn works for? She’s—”

“I know Maria,” Izzy cut her off.

Eden looked at him.

“What?” he said. “I know her. That’s all. We’ve met. I slept on her living-room floor when crazy people wanted to kill her. With Lopez. He was there. And Tiny Tony V. Danny, too. We told ghost stories, and why am I telling you this?”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

Izzy shrugged and turned back to Jenn, who’d flipped her legal pad back to the first page of notes she’d taken during her phone call. “So. Linda the lawyer,” he said. “What did she say?”

“That the Department of Child Protective Services will do everything they possibly can to keep a child with his parents—”

“Even if the parents don’t want him?” Eden asked. “I mean, they don’t want him. Not really.”

Izzy reached over and took her hand.

“It’s going to be an uphill climb,” Jenn said. “Our best shot is to present a united front. We’re talking about moving Ben out of state, which is even more questionable from CPS’s standpoint. Linda thought the best possible way to get that kind of custody is to have Eden and Izzy apply, because they’ve been married for almost a year now. There’s stability there—sort of. I mean … um …”

God, this was awkward. She hadn’t thought before she’d spoken. And the way Dan had described it, Izzy had come to Vegas to talk to Eden about getting a divorce. But they acted more like newlyweds, which, of course, Danny believed was just Eden being Eden and messing with Izzy’s mind, but Jenn wasn’t as sure. She saw the way Dan’s sister looked at Izzy, and the way he looked back at her. There was something there.

“That option’s certainly on the table,” Izzy said quietly. “For Ben’s sake, I’d certainly be open to, um, staying together at least a little bit longer.”

Danny cleared his throat, and shot Jenn a look that had shades of I’m having an aneurism in it.

She kept her own expression carefully neutral. “Okay,” she said. “That’s good. Linda also thought it would go over well if the plan was for, um, the four of you to share an apartment.”

“Is that … really necessary?” Eden asked.

“It is. Linda also thinks your best shot,” Jenn answered, “is to put pressure on your mother. She told Dan that it was okay if Ben went to live with him. We need to be sure she knows that Greg is making the noise he’s making, and see if she can’t talk him down. We also need to check to find out if he really did adopt Ben. I’ll be looking into that tomorrow.”

“I’ve called Ivette’s cell phone four times,” Danny reported, checking his cell phone. “And left four messages.”

“Getting in touch with her is a priority,” Jenn said. “Because what we really want is to settle this outside of CPS. As soon as they decide that Ben really is in danger from Greg—and that initial process takes about three days—they’ll launch a full investigation and hold a hearing. But once that happens? There’s no going back. A guardian ad litem is appointed, and Ben is put into foster care. If that happens, Linda’s going to find out if we can petition the guardian to let Ben live with you until the hearing, or if we have to actually apply to be foster parents and go through the whole interview process. She’s going to call me back about that.”

“So it’s possible that—if CPS gets involved,” Eden clarified, “Ben will go into foster care, even though we’re sitting right here, waving our arms, begging to take him in?”

“That’s right,” Jenn told her.

“This hearing,” Izzy asked. “It basically all comes down to a judge who decides … Who Ben should live with?”

“Nope,” Jenn said. “It’s all about Greg and Ivette. The judge decides whether or not Ben will be safe if he continues to live with them. The guardian has a lot to say about that. Of course, you’d all get to speak at the hearing—Ben, too. And we can bring in experts—and there’re a lot of them—who agree that being gay isn’t something that can be changed by a place like Crossroads. But ultimately, it’s up to the judge. If he decides that it’s in Ben’s best interest to go home to Ivette and Greg, Ben goes home.”

“And then to Crossroads,” Eden said darkly.

“If the judge decides not,” Jenn said, “then Ben becomes a ward of the state of Nevada. And it’s only then that Izzy and Eden can apply for custody.”

“What if the judge—or the guardian,” Dan asked, “is homophobic?”

“That could be a problem,” Jenn admitted. “I actually anticipated your asking that, and asked Linda to look into the possibility of Ben declaring himself an emancipated minor.” She looked at Eden. “That’s kind of like him divorcing his parents.”

“I know,” she said. She forced a smile. “But thank you for … Thank you.”

They were all silent then, as Jenn flipped through her notes, checking to see if there was anything she could add to what she’d already told them.

Dan cleared his throat again. “How long does it all take?” he asked. “If CPS decides there needs to be a full investigation? How long until the hearing?”

“It happens pretty quickly,” Jenn told him. “We’ll have about thirty days.”

“Thirty days is quick?” Dan asked, laughing his disbelief. “God damn.” He was really shaken. “I’m going to have to get leave, but it’s probably going to be without pay and—”

“I have some money saved,” Eden said.

“I do, too,” Izzy told Dan.

“Still, I’ll need to find someplace to stay.” Dan was in heavy worst-case-scenario mode.

“You can stay with me,” Eden said. “I’ve already paid rent on my apartment through the end of the summer. It’s not like that’ll be an additional expense.”

“But five of us?” Dan asked. “In a one-bedroom apartment?” He looked at Jenn and there was such despair in his eyes. “Four, really, because you’re leaving in a week.”

“You know that I can stay longer,” she told him, and he nodded. But she knew he’d never ask her to make that sacrifice.

“We can make this work,” Izzy said.

Dan laughed. “Said the asshole who thinks everything’s fine as long as he’s screwing my sister. Newsflash, Zanella. She’s just not that hard to get.”

“Danny,” Jenn said, purposely keeping her voice mild. “I think maybe you’re the asshole.”

Izzy, meanwhile, had clenched both his fists and then opened his big hands wide, in a mock Bob Fosse jazz-hands move. “Not hitting you.”

Eden just looked miserable.

“Sorry,” Dan muttered to her.

“Maybe,” Jenn started, but Dan cut her off.

“Maybe we should just kill Greg,” he said.

“It’s probably better not to joke about that,” Jenn said.

“Who’s joking?”

“Really, Danny. I know you’re upset, but that’s just not—”

“Sorry,” he said again, and he reached for her hand. His eyes were filled with regret and shame and pure desperation. “I am sorry.” He pushed himself to his feet. “May I speak to you privately, please?”

“Of course.” Jenn followed him away from Izzy and Eden, over to the sensor-triggered doors that slid open, exposing them to a wave of ovenlike heat.

Dan went into it and moved far enough away so the doors would slide closed again. “I was hoping Linda would force my hand,” he told her.

Jenn shook her head. She didn’t understand.

He clarified. “I was hoping she’d say that we should, you know, get married. That that would be our best shot at getting Ben.”

He was looking at her with those eyes, with that face, and Jenn knew that hitting him was not the proper response to what he’d just said. Force his … Fabulous. She nodded instead. “But she didn’t say that.”

“Marry me anyway,” he said.

“Wow,” she said. “Way to be romantic, Gillman, and really pick the moment.”

He looked around them, as if suddenly aware that they were standing outside of a hospital in Las Vegas, Nevada. “I was thinking about it earlier,” he admitted, “but that wasn’t the most romantic moment, either.” His smile was sheepish, and she knew exactly to which earlier moment he was referring.

“Instead you decided to wait,” Jenn said, “to see if Linda’s advice would force your hand.”

Danny winced. “Yeah, I heard that when it came out of my mouth, and I knew it was wrong. I’m sorry—”

“Was it?” she said. “Wrong? It seems kind of accurate to me.”

“It scares me,” he said. “How much I need you.”

Need, not want …

“You’re going to get through this,” she told him. “And if you start trying to think before you speak, and if you stop yourself before you say something that’s completely asshole-ish? You’re actually going to have a real relationship with your sister when everything’s said and done. Maybe Izzy, too—”

“Yeah, I doubt that.”

“Definitely Izzy, too,” she said. “For someone so smart, you can be a real dumbass. This thing with Ben is an opportunity. Embrace it.”

“I’m trying to,” he said. “I’m trying. To. With you.”

Jenn nodded, looking out over the parking lot, because looking into his eyes was just too hard. “If you want me to stay through to the hearing, Dan, for God’s sake, just ask me to stay.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing,” he said.

“I can’t stay forever,” she told him, because God, she didn’t want him that way. She didn’t want to be convenient, or needed during times that were hard. She wanted him to love her—and to not be scared by what he felt—and her temper flared. “I can’t. But I’ll stay to the hearing, if you just freaking ask me.”

But she’d injured his pride. “Maybe I don’t want you to stay if you’re not going to marry me,” he said, clearly choosing to embrace his unpleasant inner child.

Jenn just looked at him.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “That’s a lie.” Now it was his turn to scan the parking lot, and as he did so, he sighed. And he closed his eyes briefly before he turned back to her. “Please, Jenn, will you stay?”

She could see from his eyes that she’d hurt him, but that made two of them, didn’t it? She nodded as she took out her cell phone. “I’ll call Maria and let her know that I’ll be … seriously delayed.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll be inside, trying not to be an asshole.”

“Danny,” she said.

He stopped and turned back. “That came out kind of asshole-ish,” he acknowledged, “but I was being serious. I’d like to have a sister again. Zanella, though, I could really do without.”

“Maybe he’ll grow on you,” Jenn suggested. “I kind of like him.”

“You like everyone,” he pointed out.

“I don’t like Greg,” she said. “He’s a douchebag.”

Dan laughed at that. “I bet you hardly ever said douchebag before you met me. I think that might be my word.”

She thought about that. “I think you’re right,” she agreed. “My brothers were fond of dickhead and a-hole. Like taking the double-S out makes it family-friendly. A-hole. It actually sounds worse, doesn’t it?”

He laughed—“Yeah”—but then his smile faded and he got serious again. “I love you,” he said. “I don’t tell you that enough. I should’ve mentioned it, right before the whole, you know, marry me.”

Typical Navy SEAL behavior—refusing to give up, hoping to change her mind. Even though what he’d actually said was marry me anyway. Kind of the way his I love you actually translated to I love you enough to try to make this work.

Jenn held up her phone because Maria’s line was ringing. “I gotta …” she said, and she turned away to leave a voice mail as Dan finally did give up and head inside.

“So here’s the deal.” Officer Kellen sat down on the hard waiting-room seats, across from Izzy and Eden. Danny-Danny-bo-banny was coming in from his private conference with the impossibly patient Jennilyn, and he hustled over to hear what the police officer had to say. “There’s no way I’m letting the kid go home with the stepfather.”

“Oh, thank God,” Eden said in a rush of air as she released the breath that she must’ve been holding. “Thank you so much.”

“But I’m kind of stuck,” he said, “because if I send Ben home with you, and this Crossroads place turns out to be considered by law to be a private school, then, yeah, Ben’s parents have the right to send him there, and we’re all screwed. Including me. Child services can’t get involved every time some kid doesn’t like the education choices his or her parents make.”

“This is different,” Eden said.

“Yeah,” Kellen said ruefully. “It’s a political issue, the gay thing.”

“It’s a civil rights issue,” Dan corrected him.

“That local and state politicians are going to jump all over,” Kellen said as he looked from Eden to Izzy to Dan and then up at Jenn, who’d come back inside. “And that church the stepfather belongs to—they can get loud and ugly. You really want Ben in the middle of that?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice,” Dan said.

“Maybe you do,” Kellen said. “Still no luck reaching the boy’s mother, right?”

“She hasn’t called back,” Dan said, checking his phone again.

“So let’s buy some time,” Kellen said. “The hospital wants to keep Ben overnight, for observation. So let’s keep him here tonight.”

“His insurance won’t cover—” Danny started.

Eden cut him off. “It’s a good idea and I have money. I’ll pay for it.”

He looked at her. “It’s hundreds of dollars.”

“It gives us time for you to find Ivette,” Eden countered.

“Who always does what Greg says,” he pointed out, “which brings us right back here, except now we’re out hundreds of dollars.”

“Overnight means Ben’ll be released in the morning,” Izzy argued. “Into our custody, because I’m willing to bet that Greg won’t be getting up before noon.”

It was a good point, but Danny wasn’t buying it. “You know who wins in this scenario?” He was pissed. “Officer Kellen wins.”

“Danny,” Eden said as Jenn provided a descant, “That’s not true.”

But it was true, and Kellen knew it and was embarrassed. “I have a two-month-old daughter,” he said quietly. “If I lose my job …”

“We appreciate all you’ve done,” Jenn said, her hands on Dan’s shoulders as she stood behind him.

“I just think you stand a better shot,” Kellen said, “keeping this out of the system.” He stood up. “I’ll go tell the stepfather that Ben’s staying overnight.” He forced a smile. “Maybe he’ll do us all a favor and get violent. If I have to arrest him, that’s going to reflect poorly if you do need to get CPS involved.”

Eden stood up, too. “Can we see Ben now?”

Kellen nodded. “Go on in.”