Maya had spent that entire formative stretch, the most important fourteen months of her whole existence, learning those lessons in a group placement, watched over by kind strangers who could not keep her.

That was the number that would not leave me alone in the diner.

Not fourteen months of my time.

Fourteen months of hers, which was almost all the time she had.

Something in my chest, some old quiet thing I had kept shut for years, shifted very slightly at the number.

Chapter 3 — You Have Means

“Look,” Greg said, and I could hear him trying to make himself feel better by offering something, anything, some small good to set against the weight of the no he was carrying.

“You have means, Julian.