Eli looked at him.
“You don't have to put her down until you're ready.”
That sentence did what everything else had failed to do.
Eli began crying.
Silently at first.
Then harder.
He turned his face away, embarrassed.
Huck pretended not to notice.
After a minute, Daisy reached toward Marlene.
Only then did Eli release her.
The instant her weight disappeared from his arms, his knees nearly collapsed.
Huck caught his shoulder.
“Easy.”
“I've got it.”
“You've had it long enough.”
Eli looked up.
Huck pulled out a chair beside the stove.
“Sit.”
Eli sat.
Marlene wrapped Daisy in a blanket fresh from the dryer.
The little girl's eyes widened.
“Warm.”
Marlene smiled.
“That's the idea.”
Ten minutes later, Daisy was eating grilled cheese.
Fifteen minutes later, she was asleep on the couch.
Twenty minutes later, Eli sat at a wooden table staring at a bowl of tomato soup and two sandwiches.
“Eat,” Huck said.
“I'm okay.”
Huck raised an eyebrow.
Eli picked up the sandwich.
He tried to eat slowly.
The first bite disappeared.
Then the second.
By the fourth, hunger took over.
He ate both sandwiches in less than three minutes.
Nobody commented.
Huck waited.
When Eli finally looked up, Huck asked:
“Anybody looking for you?”
Eli stopped chewing.
There it was.
The question he had been waiting for.
He considered lying.
Huck leaned back.
“You don't owe me your whole life story. But if somebody's searching for two kids in this storm, we need to know.”
“County services.”
Huck's face remained neutral.
“Why?”
“Our mom left.”
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
“And the county found you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you ran.”
Eli looked down.
“They were going to separate us.”
Huck said nothing.
“I heard her on the phone.”
Eli's voice rose.
“She said they didn't have a sibling placement. Daisy doesn't sleep if I'm not there. She gets scared. She needs the closet light on and she hates the dark and she doesn't like strangers touching her hair and—”
“Eli.”
He stopped.
Huck's voice softened.
“Breathe.”
Eli inhaled.
It shook.
“You've been taking care of her a while.”
It wasn't a question.
Eli stared into his soup.
“There wasn't anybody else.”
Around the room, men who had been pretending not to listen stopped pretending.
Huck asked quietly:
“How long?”
Eli shrugged.
“A while.”
“Months?”
No answer.
“A year?”
Eli's eyes filled.
“Maybe.”
Rooster stood and walked toward the kitchen.
Nobody missed the way he wiped his eyes before turning away.
At 12:07 a.m., headlights swept across the clubhouse windows.
Eli saw them.
His spoon fell.
A car door slammed.
Then another.
Three knocks struck the front door.
Official knocks.
Huck looked toward the window.
Marlene moved the curtain slightly.
“County vehicle.”
Eli was on his feet.
“No.”
“Eli—”
“No.”
His chair crashed backward.
Daisy stirred on the couch.
Eli immediately lowered his voice.
“They'll take her.”
Huck stood.
“We don't know that.”
“Yes, we do.”
His breathing became frantic.
“They said it. They don't have somewhere for us together.”
The knock came again.
“Please.”
Eli looked at Huck.
The boy who had carried his sister four miles through freezing rain was gone.
For the first time that night, Huck saw what was actually standing in front of him.
A terrified twelve-year-old.
“Please don't let them take her.”
Huck looked around the room.
Rooster stood.
Then Brick.
Then Miles.
Then Annie.
Then every Rider in the clubhouse.
Nobody spoke.
They simply stood.
A quiet wall of leather and denim formed behind Huck.
He walked to the door.
Opened it.
Dana Whitmore stood outside beneath an umbrella.
Beside her was Deputy Nathan Cole.
Dana saw Eli over Huck's shoulder.
Her entire body relaxed.
“Oh, thank God.”
Eli stepped backward.