Page 5 of Judge of Saints and Sinners

“His fever is down, Teeny, but not enough,” a gruff voice spoke from the side, and while I flinched, years of fear filling my bones at the proximity of the speaker. I hated being surprised. Even so, I managed to keep a smile on my face as I turned to Rocky.

“How’s Jean?” I asked, my eyes skipping over Rocky’s wild white hair to the door behind. His youngest grandchild, only three, slept in the bedroom just past him, a sliver of the living room lights illuminating a sprawled arm.

“Not so good.” Rocky leaned back, his chin jutting out a little. I could almost see his pride faltering as he recognized his grandchildren’s needs. “Did you, uh, have any luck?”

My lips curled in a halfhearted smile. Rocky was one of the good ones. Once a legendary boxer, he’d gotten mixed up with the wrong people, spent part of his life running into danger, the other half running from. But when his grandbabies had lost their parents, he’d come running, leaving behind whatever memories haunted him in Charleston, and took them in.

Money was tight. But these kids were loved, and their grandfather did everything to keep them safe. Rocky was obsessed with raising them as good or better than their parents would have. My eyes flickered down to the hands he’d made his living with, the thick knuckles, the permanent scars that seemed to cover every part of his pale skin, not blending in with the age spots that he often ran his fingers over.

The same hand that had reached for mine on my first day here then proceeded to open box after box, insisting he was raising good kids and that they would know how to take care of their neighbors.

His kindness was beautiful. It was also a debt. One that I would be paying off starting now. My throat ached for a moment. I was well aware of my situation, and having people like him nearby made me wish for more. But there was no one here to defend me, to make a home for me. Not anymore.

“I got a whole bunch of stuff.” I reached up, shifting a little so I didn’t show anything but a tiny slip of skin on my stomach as I hauled my haul out from under my shirt. “What do you think? I think I got everything…”

Rocky took each bottle, holding it up to the light and squinting at them a little. I mentally made a note to grab him reading glasses the next time I was doing a supply run. My stomach churned. They would be, just like these medicines, stolen. I didn’t regret it—I didn’t regret any of it—but I didn’t want to tinge Rocky’s life with my dirty hands.

Thief.

Runaway.

Emotional wreck.

Those were my three most prominent features, and while I had made my ability to multitask into a superpower, there were days, especially like today, that I wished I was doing something good with my life.

Jayden breathed in, the sound a rasp against the pounding worry of my thoughts, and I jerked back to the present, moving to lean over him. “How are you, big guy?”

Most days, the curly haired eight-year-old, a very proud second grader, would have given me the death glare for my almost babyish voice, but today he just winced a little, his clammy fingers winding through mine. Fear and anguish rushed over me. I looked at Rocky. “Which one first? You said he needed something today?”

It had been nearly impossible to steal the antibiotics. I'd had to wait around two different pharmacies, until someone inevitably came in to get their prescription before slipping it free and putting something else cheap and bagged into their clutches. I’d nearly given up a half dozen times, but there was no other way. Rocky was doing okay keeping the family fed and housed, but medical bills, especially for two little ones, would bleed him dry.

But now, my anxiety crept in back in. What if Jayden had a bad reaction to the medicine? My mother used to be allergic to one of those types. What if it caused Jayden to get worse? We were already walking the line between a random respiratory infection and pneumonia.

“One second, Jayden. We’re going to get you all fixed up.” Rocky grabbed the bottle then hurried over to the small kitchenette that lined one wall and got a small glass of water. I watched it all with nervous eyes, the delicate fingers in my grip weak and cool. “Here you go, baby. Let’s get these pills into you. You’re going to be feeling so much better soon.”

I helped to prop up Jayden then watched closely as he swallowed, the pill making its way down his throat and hopefully making a beeline for the raging infection in his chest. I sent up a silent prayer to whomever was listening to me these days and then shifted away, letting Rocky keep the gentle weight of Jayden against him until he resettled the boy on the couch.

I began to back away, the feeling of overstaying my welcome creeping up on me like a dull chill until I hurriedly picked up my backpack and headed to the door.

“Teeny, wait, please.” Rocky was there, his voice hushed, but his forehead wrinkles smoothing out a little as his grandson reclined in the background. “I need to tell you… I need to tell you.”

I rubbed my hand over my lips as he looked down at me. Rocky had always been a towering monster of a man. But in his youth, I’m not sure I would’ve had the courage to approach him.

But I’d learned a long time ago that size was not related to strength. Not in the way it mattered. And so I reached up, patting his shoulder, feeling the lines of too-thin shoulders through the flannel top.

“It’s okay, Rocky.” I said, making sure my voice stayed flat, smooth, and unemotional. Because as much as I cared, I wasn’t comfortable making this a big deal. “I’m glad I could help. He’s such a good kid.”

“Yes, but so are you, Teeny. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I don't want you to be like me. I don’t want you to—”

I cut him off, my chest aching. “I’m twenty-four, Rocky, and this was my choice. Hell, it was my idea to begin with. It’s what I do best. It’s good to keep these fingers fresh and spry.” I waggled them his direction, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. He just stared at me with these sorrowful brown eyes. “It’s nothing, Rocky, really. If I’d had someone like you looking out for me when I was younger, maybe things would’ve been different. But I am who I am.”

Rocky shook his head, eyes on the floor. “If you’d had someone like you looking out for you as a kid, things would’ve been different.”

I tilted my head, a smile coming to my lips. “Did you just hear yourself? That doesn't even make sense.”

Rocky chuckled, his stare rejoining mine. “Maybe, but all I’m saying is that you’re a good girl, Justine, I can feel it, right at your core where it matters. You shouldn’t joke about yourself like that. Not when everyone else around you can see just how good you are. I just wish you’d had a chance to do something with it.”

Rocky patted my arm, and my whole body recoiled from the gentle touch. Not because I minded being touched, but something about the truth bomb that he’d dropped on me made my heart race with the need to run.