I brought her apple juice in a paper cup and let her spill it all over my scrubs. I found a worn kids’ book from the waiting room and read it out loud. Again. And again. The third time through, she tapped my badge, studying my name like it mattered.
“You’re the good one,” she said, completely serious.
I nearly broke right there.
Later, a caseworker pulled me aside. “No next of kin,” she said gently. “Temporary placement. We’ll find something in the morning.”
I heard myself speak before I had time to think. “Can I take her tonight? Just until you figure it out.”
She looked me up and down. “You’re young. You work shifts. You’re single.”
