Twenty-Seven

Trey

I’ve searched the playground ten times, and there’s no sign Winnie’s ever been here. The tube slides are empty, no visible footprints lead in any direction, and her phone’s completely dead. I knew better than to let her go without a way to get in touch because, now, she’s wandering around the trailer park in the dark with no place to go.

Another twenty minutes go by, and I’m no closer to tracking her down than I was when I started, so I park my bike in the driveway and wait inside the trailer, just in case she comes back. I told her not to, but when does Winnie ever listen? She’s used to being on her own, doing whatever she needs to do to keep her head above water. For that reason, I knew foster care would be a struggle for her. Rules, boundaries, curfews—she was only used to Tess’s skewed take on those.

I wish she had stayed at Sunshine Place for a couple of more weeks. Maybe she didn’t click with everyone in the house, but living there was still better than drifting around town, waiting for the sun to go down so that we could be together for a little while.

Fuck, where is she?

Another call to her dead phone, and then I chuck mine across the room. I should check the hospital or maybe her foster home, but if I go there, it’ll only cause more trouble. The last thing I need is another person tracking my movements. I can’t do shit but stay here and wait.

The phone plays the ringtone I set aside for unknown numbers, and usually, I’d let it go to voice mail. But it could be Winnie, so I get up and try to decipher the number.

Nothing comes to mind, and before I even get it to my ear, I hear her say, “It’s me, Trey. Don’t be mad.”

Mad? That’s not a strong enough word to describe what I’d feel if something had happened to her.

Seeing her on the ground at The Whip destroyed me. I was positive I’d never see her again and that, by the time I got to the hospital, they’d tell me she’d passed away. What would I have done then? I’d have run as far away as I could get without her, and that would have made life pointless. She’s why I’ve stuck around as long as I have. She’s the reason I look forward to tomorrow because she’s one day older and one day closer to being with me for real.

“Why weren’t you where I told you to be?”

“Trey,” she whispers, “don’t treat me like a child.”

She doesn’t want this to be about age, yet she’s always reminding me about the difference. I get that telling her to wait for me on a damn playground is about as sick as it gets, but our options are so limited in places she can hide, so what was I supposed to do? Tell her to wait for me on the porch for the world to see?

“This has nothing to do with age. I went looking for you and panicked when I couldn’t find you.”

“I’m sorry.”

I take a deep breath and decide this isn’t worth a fight. She’s in one piece, and we have too much to figure out to deal with an argument.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Winn. Where are you?”

“That’s what I don’t want you to be mad about. I can’t tell you, but I’m safe, and I have a plan. Everything is working out like I want it to.”

Working out?

She’s not with me, so it definitely isn’t going as I planned.

“Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”

“You can’t do that,” she says.

Her voice is lower now, like she’s trying to keep quiet so that nobody hears her. She’s never called me from her foster home, so she’s not there. The playground was empty. That doesn’t exactly leave any other favorable places for her to be. Not decent ones anyway. If she’s at The Whip, I’ll lose my shit.

“I’ll trace this call and find you myself if I have to.”

“Please,” she begs, “I need you to trust me.”

I trusted her to stay where the state put her, so I didn’t have to worry about nights like this. But she didn’t do that. I trusted she’d stay away from The Whip and that, if things with Tess were too bad for her to handle, she’d reach out for help. She didn’t do that either.

“Are you with Jasper?”

“No. I promise I’m not with him. We’re done, Trey. I told you that.”

I don’t totally understand what happened between them, but after finding him outside the trailer, stepping over broken shards of glass, I’m not complaining. He’s the last guy I want near Winnie. Messing up my property is one thing; I can deal with that. It’s just some glass, but he scared her. I’ve pulled Winnie out of some dark places before, and I never want to find her crouched in the back of a closet again.

“Okay,” I tell her with a defeated sigh.

She sniffles a little, but I don’t think she’s crying.

“Trey, I love you. Please, trust me.”

Normally, I’d shut her down before she had a chance to plead her case. The fact that I’m even considering leaving her on her own tonight says a lot about how far we’ve come and how much progress she’s made since she’s gotten away from Tess. Winnie would never choose to be on her own when she could be with me. So, whatever she’s doing, it must mean a hell of a lot to her.

Going behind her back and tracing her call would turn me into a parent, not the equal I’m trying so hard to be.

“When will I see you, Winn?”

“Tomorrow,” she says. “I’ll call you when I have everything worked out.”

“Fine.”

“Really? You trust me? I can stay?”

She was gearing up for a war. But I’m not Tess. She needs room to breathe and grow, and I promised myself I wouldn’t get in her way while she did it. I guess this is my first test.

“I trust you. Call me if you need me before tomorrow. I love you.”

She’s smiling. I hear it in her voice when she says, “Thank you. I love you, too.”

After she hangs up, I stare at the phone for a solid ten minutes, going back and forth with my conscience. I told her I trusted her, and here I am, debating on going against my word and using the resources I have to trace the call.

I convince myself not to do it. That doesn’t mean I don’t dial Jasper’s number and pray he answers. He does, and I listen for Winnie’s voice in the background. All I get is some breathing and silence. Chances are, Winnie’s not with him, but I feel better that I checked, and I hang up.