Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13644 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13644 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Eventually, I pull away from her and head back to class. No one asks me any questions because I don’t have any friends. When I was younger, in elementary school, I was the smelly girl. My clothes were never washed, and I never took a bath. No one wanted to play with me. I didn’t blame them; I didn’t want to be around me either.
When I was middle school, I did have one friend. Her mom took me under her wing and showed me how to cook and clean for myself. She’s the one who helped me when I had head lice, and when I was covered in cockroach bites. Did you know roaches bite? I do. It’s not pleasant, but Mrs. Hunch fixed it all. Then they moved away in eighth grade, and I never spoke to Darlene again. That’s my luck—as in I don’t have any.
Two hours later, Mrs. Honeycutt finally shows up at the school.
“How are you doing, Jen?” she asks as soon as I walk into the office.
“I’m fine. What’s going to happen to the boys?” I ask.
“We’ll place them in foster care.”
“What about me?”
“You’re too old. Eighteen is the cut-off. We’ll place the boys and you’ll be in a group home until you age out.”
“I won’t be eighteen for two months. I’d like to stay with the boys until then at least.”
“I don’t think I will be able to find a house that will take all of you together. As it is, I think I am going to have to separate them.”
“You can’t do that. Please. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’ll make some calls and meet you at your house. Pick up the boys as you normally would.”
“Jason has baseball practice and Julian has soccer practice.”
“Will they want to go?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, smiling. I know my brothers. Sports are everything to them. They see it as their one way out of the life we live. It breaks my fucking heart that they can’t even have a normal childhood.
I really would do anything for the chance to give them that. If I can just get through the next three days, I have every hope that I can convince a judge to give me the boys at least on trial basis. I’m already the one that takes care of them, it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch now that my mom is gone.
Chapter One
Jackson
Present Day
After college, I bounced around the country until I landed in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I opened The Prince Collective and set up in a building downtown and have been raking in the dough ever since. I had spent exhaustive years trying to figure out what happened to my parents, but no one was talking. Eventually, I gave up. It’s one of those mysteries that will plague me forever, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. These days, I spend them buying up companies and breaking them down to the best parts and reselling them to the lowest bidder. Yes. You heard that right, the lowest bidder. The ones who can’t afford it are the ones who will do whatever it takes to make it work. I’ve been sitting in meetings all morning and I’m exhausted. The meeting ends and people file out of the conference room. As I am making my way into my office, I am stopped by my assistant, Tova. She’s been with me since the beginning, and we are in sync. She’s married to my college roommate and business partner, AJ Cook.
“There is a DCS caseworker on the phone for you, Jacks,” Tova says, her voice loud and shrill for some reason. I quirk an eyebrow at her, but don’t say anything. A while ago I took classes to become a foster parent. I wanted to give back in some way and I wanted to do it better than the foster parents I’d had, all except Madge. She was a fucking saint. She’s the sole reason I wanted to do this in the first place. I did everything DCS wanted me to do to my house; the locks on my liquor cabinet, electrical outlet covers, the whole nine yards.
“Thank you, Tova. Which line?” I ask because there are fifteen lit up at the moment.
“Line six.”
“Thanks,” I say before going into my office and sitting down at my desk. I pick up the receiver and press line six. “Jackson Prince.”
“Hello, Mr. Prince. This is Dora Honeycutt with the Tennessee Department of Children’s Services.”
“Hello. I’ve been expecting a call from you all.”
“Yes, well. Are you available to foster in an emergency situation?
“Yes, of course,” I say, pulling out my phone and texting my chef and housekeeper to make sure we have everything we need for an extra mouth to feed.
“Great. Thank you. We… um… have a unique situation going on right now. Are you available to come into the office and meet with me today?”