He told me he was Marissa’s uncle, that her grandmother had passed away early that morning, and that he was there because he “legally had to be.” But the way he said it made my blood run cold.
He wasn’t there out of love or grief—he was there to finish a task, and he seemed irritated that Marissa’s tears were slowing him down.
That’s when he made his “deal.”
He said he could take her across state lines and she’d “adjust,” or I could have her—because she was already attached to me, and he didn’t want the responsibility.
I stared at him, stunned by how cold he sounded, like he was negotiating over an object instead of a child.
I wanted to say no out of fear—fear I was too old, fear I’d fail her, fear that loving someone this much meant I could lose them too.
But Marissa looked up at me like I was the only steady thing left in her world, and I remembered every time I promised her I would never leave. So I said yes.
And the next morning, when the school asked me to sign the papers and check the box marked “guardian,” I realized my life hadn’t ended when it broke years ago… it had just been waiting for a reason to begin again.