“So this is it, kid. Casa del Dean,” Dean announced, tossing the few belongings Henrietta had sent with him onto the bed in the guest room. “Sorry it’s a little dusty. Hasn’t been used in a while, and I’m not really an entertainer…”

The Alpha rubbed the back of his head, watching nervously as Gavin explored the room. He could never tell what the young Alpha was thinking, but if the other foster kids he’d worked with were any indication, it was because he knew it wasn’t safe to wear his feelings on his sleeves around just anyone.

“Thanks,” Gavin said, flopping down in the desk chair. “So you’re stuck with me until Monday, huh?”

The tone in the kid’s voice broke Dean’s heart. It was so matter-of-fact, bordering on sympathetic for Dean’s “plight.” Dean wondered how many times he’d walked in on adults talking about him like he was a burden to bear for a given amount of time, until someone else could step in and shoulder him.

“Roads won’t be cleared until then at least, so the way I see it, we’ve both got ourselves a well-deserved vacation. Bathroom’s the second door on the right, there’s clean towels in the closet, and you can help yourself to everything in the fridge but the six pack. Cool?”

“Cool,” Gavin said, taking a book out of his duffel bag. It didn’t look like a textbook, but it was a reminder that if Gavin did end up staying with him any longer, he’d have to ask Henrietta what was going on with school.

“Well, goodnight. And uh, make yourself at home,” he said, shutting the door on the way out.

Despite his best intentions, Dean was starting to realize that he was a hell of a lot better at rescuing kids in trouble than knowing how to help them once there was no longer an emergency. He just hoped that for the night, giving Gavin a warm bed and a roof over his head was enough.

* * *

In the morning, Dean slept a little later than usual before rolling out of bed to make breakfast. The house was quiet, so he hoped Gavin was still sleeping rather than running around somewhere getting into trouble. Not that there was much you could do to stop a kid who was intent on running away. He’d driven down enough side roads in search of runaways to know that the greatest common denominator among the ones who came back was knowing there was someone who actually gave a shit waiting at home, and that the door was open anytime.

Dean was no gourmet chef, despite his mother’s trying, but he whipped together a decent looking omelette, a stack of bacon fit for a heart attack and some toast with OJ on the side. The smell of fresh food had a way of rousing anyone from their sleep, and sure enough, Gavin came shuffling out of his room.

“Mornin’, kid,” Dean said, sliding an omelette onto the boy’s plate. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay, I guess.” Gavin yawned, pulling out his chair. He seemed to wake up a little when he saw the food. “Looks good.”

“Figured we could use some fuel for the day. I’m going out on patrol later and I thought you might wanna join me.”

“Patrol? I thought you were on vacation.”

“I’m on vacation from police work,” Dean grinned, sitting down to enjoy the food he’d made. Gavin was already eating like it had been a week since his last meal, even though Dean knew for a fact he’d had three plates the night before. Poor kid probably felt like he had to stock up in case there was a drought.

There weren’t many young Alphas or omegas in the foster care system. Alphas and omegas were both rare enough and there were enough couples who had trouble conceiving that they tended to get adopted early. The ones who did linger in the system were usually branded trouble early on, and given what Dean had seen in Gavin’s case history, he knew that to be the case.

It was nothing too serious, but the kid had gotten in a few fights at school. Zero-tolerance policies meant he’d been expelled twice, and while the records didn’t say who’d started what, Dean had put enough bullies away to get a sense for them. Gavin wasn’t one.

He could see the confusion on the kid’s face, so he explained, “My truck’s practically a tank. When there’s weather like this, I hook up the tow and drive around looking for folks who ignored the weather advisories and got stuck.”

“So you’re like the Clint Eastwood of Sage?”

Dean laughed. “Something like that. You up for a little rescue work?”

Gavin gave an apathetic shrug, but he could see the excitement in the boy’s blue eyes. Those eyes were older than their owner, the kind you could just tell had seen shit they were never supposed to see.

Dean cleared his throat. “So, Henrietta tells me you bolted from your last home.”

A dark cloud immediately formed over the boy’s head as he stabbed his omelette with his fork. “They were jerks.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. What’d they do?”

Gavin looked up sharply, as if he was surprised an adult wasn’t immediately siding against him. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “They just said something that pissed me off.”

Dean nodded in understanding before taking a sip of his coffee. “Guess that comes with the territory. When you’ve been through stuff most folks haven’t, it’s hard for them to understand.”

“They all think I’m crazy,” Gavin muttered. Dean could feel his walls lowering, if only a little. “That I’m just some stupid kid who doesn’t know how the world works.”

“You’re not stupid. Hell, I saw that book you were reading last night. They assigned it to us senior year and I couldn’t even get past the first part.”

Gavin’s mouth titled a little at the corners, but he seemed to have a rule against smiling. “It’s kind of boring at first, but the military stuff’s cool, once you get past all the description.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Dean hesitated. “I’d take your word for anything else, if you felt like telling me. Maybe why you felt the need to run.”

Gavin finally met his eyes, and Dean could tell he was thinking about it. He frowned. “It was just a stupid fight. Henrietta will be mad if she finds out what happened.”

“Who says we have to get her involved?”

Gavin bit his lip in deep consideration. “My foster parents wanted to adopt me,” he said quietly.

“And that’s why you ran?”

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but I was already adopted once, when I was a baby. Didn’t work out so well for me.”

“And you’re worried the next time, it’ll be the same thing?”

“No,” he mumbled. “The Newports are cool, I guess. The dad’s kind of a dork, but… they’re nice people. They don’t do drugs, and they actually use the checks the state sends to get us school supplies and stuff, it’s just —“

“They’re not your real parents,” said Dean.

Gavin nodded. “Maybe if they adopted me. I don’t know. I want to at least know who they were… my parents, I mean.”

Dean listened patiently, trying not to let on how much his heart was breaking for the young man in front of him. When he’d thought it was simply a matter of Gavin running away because his foster parents were cruel, he’d been willing to consider taking him in on a longer-term basis. Now that he knew it was just doubt holding him back from a permanent home that could give him far more than Dean could, it was another story. “I get it,” he said in a rough voice. “And I can’t say I blame you for wanting to know. I do have an offer that I want you to consider.”

“Yeah?”

“If I helped you find your birth parents—and there’s a whole lot of ifs in that, starting with whether or not they want to be found—would you consider going back to the Newports?”

“What if I find my birth parents and they do want me?” he protested.

“Then I’ll be the first person to congratulate you,” Dean assured him with a sad smile. He hoped to God that was the case, but nine years on the job told him to know better than to hope for an outcome like that. “I’m just saying that if you get your closure and it’s not ideal, I’d hate for you to miss a chance to be with people who love you. No more running.”

Gavin was quiet for a few minutes, but Dean could tell he was at least considering what he’d said. He finally nodded, thrusting his hand across the table. “Shake on it.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle, returning the boy’s firm handshake. “It’s a deal.”