Don't Go by L.J. Breedlove (series like harry potter txt) 📕

to very many foods apparently,” he explained. “So, he goes to different food trucks and just orders the special of the day. I don’t think he knows what he’s eating half the time.”

“Speaks well for him though,” Rev. Washington observed. “He’s going to need that curiosity and flexibility of thinking in this new world he’s chosen instead of his old one.”

Ryan thought about J.J.’s friendship with Carroll and agreed silently. He did not bring up that example. Someone would ask questions he had no intentions of answering. Especially because he didn’t have answers.

“Cory said you saw Dr. Clarke today and it wiped you out,” Rev. Washington said neutrally. Ryan appreciated the tact; he could either talk or just agree and move on. He found he wanted to talk.

Then he told them the story. About two sentences in, Rev. Washington picked up the remote and turned the TV off completely, and Mrs. Washington closed her book.

“So apparently, the people I called my parents are actually my grandparents. My biological parents are serving time for killing my baby brother and putting me in the hospital — repeatedly,” he finished. “And I have missing pieces in my memories because my brain decides I can’t handle something and locks it in a vault. I’m not even sure I want to open it. And because I partied hard between ages 18 and 22 when Dr. Clark helped me get clean, I don’t know if there are more pieces that are missing and significant, or just routine blackouts that all drunks have. And on top of it all, Teresa trusted me with a 3-year-old.”

Martha Washington reached over and patted his leg. “I’d trust you with a 3-year-old,” she said seriously. “I suspect Teresa saw the same thing I do: a young man who has been through hell and would go through it again to protect the weak.”

“You don’t know that! I don’t know that!” Ryan said fiercely.

“Well, I kinda do,” she said gently. She glanced at her husband. He nodded slightly. “I was with CPS before I got involved in creating, We Help. I remember the case. Painfully. Because the system failed you and it failed your brother. And no one who was part of CPS will ever forget that — doesn’t matter that we sent the murderers to prison. Too little, too late. But they came from money. I can tell you, if you all had been a poor Black family, CPS would have pulled you two out of there on the first call. But it was a wealthy family. Your grandparents had political connections. They funded political candidates. And your parents knew the right things to say, and even had expensive attorneys to say it for them.

“And so, your brother died, and you almost did as well. I’m glad Erica is going to give you your file, because you need to see it.”

She paused to regain her composure. Ryan could see the tears in her eyes. She blinked them back.

“I didn’t make the connection to you,” she admitted. “I don’t think I ever knew your first name, back then, and Matthews was your mother’s maiden name — your name by adoption. Cage has never indicated you were a rich kid in his stories of you over the years.”

“My trust fund pays my tuition and books. Everything else comes out of my Eyewitness check,” Ryan said. He shrugged. “I wanted to fit in, be like everyone else. They don’t know.”

“And we won’t tell them,” she agreed. “It wasn’t until Clyde mentioned that Erica Clarke was treating J.J., and that you seemed to know her, that a connection clicked. But Clyde seemed to think you knew her recently not from years ago.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, she happened to be there the night Cage hauled me up there to get my stomach pumped and put on my own 72-hour hold,” Ryan said. “And I saw her for six months as I finally came to accept that I would never be able to drink or do drugs. I’ve been clean for over two years — 1,000 days sober coming up. She never mentioned she’d known me years ago. She didn’t make the connection either until she ordered my medical files and the old stuff showed up too.”

The three sat in silence for a moment, sorting through the story. Ryan realized it felt like any news story he’d ever reported. Different people had different views of an event. And he was left to sort it out and piece together what actually did happen. The familiarity comforted him a bit. This kind of uncertainty he knew what to do with.

“I suspect if you googled it, you could find some of the news reports of the day,” Martha Washington said. “I’m not sure you should. But you could.”

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t know their names,” he said. “I suppose I could figure it all out; I probably do know enough. But my mind locked it away for a reason. I think I should be very careful about opening that vault.”

She nodded approval.

The back door opened with a knock. “I’m back,” J.J. called out. He came into the living room and looked at the three of them. “What?” he asked.

Ryan shook his head. “Old news,” he said. “I’m going to bed. J.J., how did today go?”

“Good,” he said, relaxing a bit.

“Want to go in tomorrow?” he asked, already moving down the hall.

“Yes,” he said. He looked like he was going to ask more questions. Ryan didn’t hang around for it.

“I’ll give you a ride to campus then,” he said. “Night all.”

“Breakfast is at 7 a.m.,” Mrs. Washington said.

Chapter 12

10:50 a.m., Friday, PSU campus — Ryan dropped off a quiet J.J. in front of the student union building. He felt like he should ask him what was going on, how was he doing, but he couldn’t deal with one more thing. Maybe Sarah or Cage could talk to him. He found his usual parking spot across the street from the