“Where am I going?”
“Not back to Hank.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
She sat.
“Good distinction.”
Leo waited.
“We’re investigating his placement license.”
“You’ll find stuff.”
“I suspect we will.”
“You believe me?”
“I believe enough to investigate.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Angela nodded.
“It isn’t.”
Leo respected the answer.
“There are emergency foster options.”
“No.”
“Leo.”
“No foster house.”
“You’re seventeen.”
“I can work.”
“You’re injured.”
“I can still work.”
“You’ve been living in a condemned building.”
“I survived.”
Angela leaned back.
“Yes.”
That answer stopped him.
She continued.
“You survived.”
Her voice softened.
“But survival is not the standard I’m trying to reach.”
Leo looked down.
“What do you want?”
“A place where you can sleep without planning an escape route.”
Leo almost laughed.
“That real?”
“Yes.”
She explained transitional living for older foster youth.
Small supervised apartments.
School.
Employment support.
Counseling if he wanted it.
Independent living training.
He would have rules.
But not Hank.
“Can I work in a garage?”
“If it’s legal.”
Leo frowned.
“That sounds difficult.”
“It is.”
A knock came at the door.
Sully stood outside holding a paper bag.