Starlee's Hope (The Wayward Sons 4)

“It’s all bullshit. Like climbing a fucking mountain or baking a cake is going to help me in the future.”

A shadow crosses the doorway to my office. No, not a shadow. An eclipse. My eyes flick over Jason’s shoulder to a fully-grown, just-retired-professional-football-playing-sized Jake Hollingsworth. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him and my hand lowers to my belly, just as his eyes drop down to assess it as well. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks and I know it’s already bigger.

Jason looks over his shoulder and does a double-take.

“Jason have you met, Jake?”

“Hollingsworth?” his voice cracks.

“Nice to meet you.” Jake r

eaches out a hand and they greet one another. “You giving Ms. Jones a hard time?”

“Nah, man,” he says, as Jake walks in and takes a seat. He looks so good. “I just don’t see the point in all the hassle. A few classes aren’t going to change my life.”

Jake leans back, the picture of ease and confidence. I know that boy is still under there somewhere. The scared, lost kid that could barely read and thought his dreams were just out of reach.

“You’re right,” Jake says, and I shoot him a glare. He ignores me. “None of that is going to change your life, not if you’re unwilling to invest in yourself and definitely if you don’t listen to Ms. Jones, because this woman is smart and good at her job.”

Jason gives me a skeptical look. “Good at forcing kids to do what they don’t want to?”

“Good at helping you realize that everyone has value and worth, but that it takes hard work and a shift in attitude to get there. I know you think those classes are dumb. Trust me, the whole time I was catching footballs I was making pies, or hauling garbage to the dump, and studying. A lot.”

Jason doesn’t want to look impressed but it’s hard not to when Jake Hollingsworth of the 49ers is telling you how to succeed.

“Today is a new day, Jason,” I say. “I think you’re ready to move forward but if not, let me know. We’ll talk to the judge.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He stands and Jake holds out his fist, giving him a bump. When he’s gone, Jake moves to close the door. I circle the desk, meeting him in the middle of my small office.

“Hey,” he says, after giving me a long-waited-for kiss. He drops to his knees and pushes up my shirt, kissing my belly. “Hi in there, too.”

I run my hands though his hair. “Thanks for helping with that one. He’s hard-headed.”

“Really?” he says, standing. His hand lingers on my stomach. “A stubborn teenaged boy? Never heard of such a thing.”

I touch his stomach, hard with muscle. “Were you able to get everything together in San Francisco before you left?”

“Yep, everything at the CrossRoads sports camp is set to go. I’ll have to drop in on opening and closing day, but I think it’ll run smoothly.”

“Thank you,” I say, kissing his chin. “I think this program is going to be really awesome.”

“I think so, too.”

When I graduated college, I got a job working with juveniles through the state. I hated it. I hate the system as much now as I did then, and after a year I wanted to pull my hair out, quit, and run away. But the boys and I came up with another plan. Use our experience and resources to help. We had four foster care success stories. And not because of the system, but because of Sierra and the hard work she put in. We decided to build our own group home down in June Lake and provide all the things we knew actually helped the boys through their troubles. Hard work, skill development, responsibilities, expectations. Through Jake’s contacts we started a sports camp that helped kids with talent get in front of coaches. Dexter has a cooking workshop that allows residents job opportunities either at one of his shops (he has five) or at Epic. George established an art program, not just for kids at CrossRoads but for any local wanting to develop their skills. Ms. Peterman teaches after school and during the summer. And Charlie? Well, the kids probably love him the most. His program is full of video game development, coding, applied computer sciences and a massive directive for security—with a focus on ethics.

And me? I’m here for the handholding. The court hearings. The parent visits. It’s heartbreaking and warming at the same time, but we’ve all agreed I need a little time off with this baby on the way. I have a way of carrying the stress of these kids on my shoulders and it’s hard not to get burned out.

“You look tired,” Jake says.

“I could use a nap,” I admit. “And a cheeseburger.”

“I’m game for both.”

He wraps his massive arms around me—god I’ve missed them—and

he smiles and kisses me again, and again, and again.