Leo giggled as he zipped around the living room, arms stretched wide like pne wings. In his imagination, they weren’t just pin wings—they were majestic, feathery, and powerful. In each hand, he clutched an a figure as if they were the greatest treasures in the world. And maybe they were.

  “Whoooosh! I’ll get you… you dirty Bgel!” he whooped, smming the two figures together with dramatic fir. “Hahaha! Take my blizzard attack! Hiyaaaaaa!”

  “Auuugh! It’s so cold! My feathers are frozen!” Leo voiced for the dark angel figure, fling it backward. Then, with an imperious tohe vilin decred, “If you want a piee, take a huge cloud of darkness in—your——face!!! Raaaaaawrrrr!” The ebony-plumed Bgel crashed into her oppo, a ptinum-blonde superheroine wearing a white leotard ated with sky-blue along the sides, shoulders, and neck.

  “Your darkness attack won’t work on me! If you want to blind me, Bgel, I’ll send a flurry to blind yht bad freeze your butt! Ehehehehe!” Leo giggled, imitating his favorite hero with a high-pitched, triumphant voice.

  “Nooooo! Not that, Mistral!” Bgel whined bitterly. “I hate that attack! TAKE MY EVIL BLAST!!!”

  “Auuughhhh!” Leo cried dramatically as Mistral crumpled to the floor i. He stared at her for a long moment, his brows furrowed. Bgel’s attack had been strohan even he expected.

  Across the room, Albert reed in his chair, a beer in hand, casually watg his son’s antics. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

  “Daddy…” Leo piped up, his tone ced with mischief. His gaze darted to his father, and an idea sparked. If only he could get Daddy to join in, this battle could bee the most epie yet! Bounding over, he csped his father’s hand, looking up with impl, sparkling eyes. At five years old, Leo was a whirlwind of energy and charm.

  “Um…” He hesitated, fidgeting for a moment.

  “Well?” Albert chuckled, taking a swig from his bottle.

  “Um… well…” Leo blushed, his excitement bubbling over. “I promise it won’t take too long, Daddy! Pretty please py Mistral for me!” Spinning on his heel, he raced back to his fallen hero, scooped her up, and held her out triumphantly. “Bgel’s attack was really strong, but Mistral is super tough! She’s already okay!”

  “Huh?” Albert frowned slightly but shook his head with a bemused smile.

  “Pretty please!” Leo beamed, boung on his toes. “I think I’ve got Bgel’s moves perfeow, Daddy! You’d make the best Mistral!”

  Albert ughed, scratg his head as he sidered it. “Heh… those dolls of yours, huh?” He g the a figures in Leo’s hands, still hesitating. “Don’t you have a guy part for me to py?”

  “A... but these twirls, daddy! And they’re REALLY strong, y’know!” Leo bounced on his toes, his eyes wide with excitement. “When I grow up, I wanna be just like them—strong and super cool!” He hopped up and down, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You remember when Mistral froze her butt st time, right? You watched the news with me, didn’t you? She—Bgel—like, captured a whole city! It was Monteel or something! Hehehe—reeeeally cold because it’s so far up north like that! …And Mistral’s s that Bgel ’t win, no matter what she tries!” Leo’s voice rang with pure, unfiltered enthusiasm.

  “Uh huh—” Albert shrugged indifferently. “We got you a strong-looking guy figure, though, right? That Vanguard is a proper hero! Leo. He’s who you should want to be like—”

  “But Daddy!” Leo burst out, his voice pitg higher with excitement. “He never fought Bgel… at least, I don’t think so—” He tilted his head, his lips pursing in a thoughtful pout. “Anyway, Mistral is wayyyyy cooler! I just love her! Sure, Vanguard’s strong and all, but Mistral is, like… so much better! She’s amazing!”

  Leo spun on his toes, dang with glee. “I wanna trol the weather like her—call lightning and make it go KABOOM! And then everyone would be like, ‘Whoooooa!’” He grinned wide, his eyes sparkling with pure admiration.

  “Hahaha—” Albert chuckled, rubbing his fa exasperation. “You’ve told me all about it, Leo. Sure, making storms is cool, but you know—she’s a girl. They’re the weaker sex.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Now, go grab that figure I bought you.” His gaze narrowed on his son.

  Leo pouted, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “But she—um—” He hesitated, his voice faltering uhe withering look his father shot him. “Okay… retend they fought! You be the big, strong superhero! And I’ll be Mistral! We fight Bgel together! I bet my ag will—”

  Suddenly, Leo’s ears rang, as he was struck firmly across his fad the world tilted as he crumpled to the floor. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to clear his vision, his small body teh fusion and fear.

  “Oh, God—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—” Albert k quickly, his hands trembling as he tried to help his son up. “I just—I don’t know how to handle kids sometimes! Does it hurt? I didn’t—”

  “O—o!” Leo cried, tears spilling down his cheeks as realization hit: his father had struck him. “I don’t—ahhhhhh!” His sobs grew louder, filling the room.

  Albert’s face twisted with panic, his eyes darting around the room for something—anything—that might fix this. “Oh, jeez—I didn’t mean anything by it,” he mumbled, his voice wavering. Then, aruck. “Hey, we’ve got some ice cream. Let’s go have some, okay? That’ll make it better—”

  Goonie kept vigil over Leo as he tossed and turned in his hospital bed. The poor boy’s sleep was restless, his small body writhing as if caught in a bad dream. She loo hold him, to soothe him, but feared waking him before he’d fully recuperated would do more harm than good.

  After their desperate rescue of Leo, she and Quinn had rushed him to the hospital instead of the meal she’d promised. The doctors had decided to keep him ht for observation, which at least gave them time to coordih the social woonie had vowed not to let her nephew out of her sight, but now the toll of today’s events was catg up to her.

  Physically, her bones ached, making her feel older than she was, not to mention how messed up her shoulder was. She’s accepted some mild pain killers from a nurse. But it was her spirit that felt most drained now. She was tired in a way that no amount of rest could fix—a deep, soul-weary exhaustion.

  Just as Leo’s breathing began to settle, the door creaked open, and a young doctor stepped in, his clipboard tucked ly under one arm. His white coat was slightly rumpled, his eyes kind but carrying the practiced detat of someone used to hard versations.

  “Ms. Ramses?” he asked gently, drawitention.

  “Yes?” Laguna replied, standing stiffly as if brag herself for the worst like a tree before a category 5 hurrie.

  “I wao give you an update on Leo.” He g the sleeping boy, his features softening. “He’s stable, and physically, he’ll be fine. His body’s been under a lot of stress—he’s malnourished, as you probably guessed, but we’ve started him on fluids and a nutrient regimen. With proper care, he’ll bounce back.”

  Goo out a long breath, relief washing over her like a tide. But she saw the hesitation in the doctor’s face, a shadow lingering in his eyes. “But?” she prompted, her voice tight.

  “But…” The doctor hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “He’s clearly been through a lot. The signs of emotional trauma are there. He’s withdrawn, defensive. He may not trust easily, even with you and your family. That’s all up to him and you.” He paused, sing her face. “It’s going to take time and patience for him to feel safe again anyway. Therapy will help. He’s a resilient kid, I think, but he’s going to need a strong support system to heal.”

  Goonie nodded, her throat tightening. “He’s been through hell,” she murmured, more to herself than to the doctor.

  The man nodded. “He has. But kids like Leo—they surprise you with their strength. If anyone help him through this, it’s someone who loves him. Someone who won’t give up on him.”

  Goonie’s lips trembled as she gnced back at Leo’s small, fragile form. “Thank you, doctor,” she said softly.

  He smiled faintly and excused himself, leaving Goonie aloh her thoughts.

  Later on, quietly slipping out of the room, Goonie found Quily where she’d expected: seated on the floor, leaning against the wall just outside. The little girl had been humming softly to herself, but the loud click of the door tch startled her.

  “Oh, thank God. Thank God,” Goonie whispered as her emotional floodgates finally broke. Tears streamed down her face as she saw her daughter’s worried expression. She closed the door behind her, her posure unraveling.

  Quinn scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide. She’d stayed in the room for as long as she could, but the sight of Leo hooked up to all those maes—gadgets and gizmos blinking and beeping—had been too much for her to bear. Uo face it, she’d fled just outside, g. Now, she waited, chewing her lip and trying to push the worst thoughts from her mind.

  Quinn’s cutoff shorts and sneakers were still stained from earlier—goodness knew with what—and faint odors g to her clothes, a testament to their harrowing day. Goonie’s own dress bore simir battle scars, though her cared about appearances or how they smelled at the moment.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait, Quinn.” Goonie shook her head, letting out a small, relieved sigh.

  “Good hen?” Quinn asked hopefully, her voice trembling. Her green eyes, brimming with worry, looked up at her mother as if doubting the answer before it came. “Is he really gonna be okay?” A soft sob escaped her as Goonie reached out to pull her into a hug.

  Goonie’s own green eyes shimmered with memories as she stroked her daughter’s blonde hair, her fingers ge trembling. Blood truly was thicker than water. In moments like this, Quinn reminded her so much of her younger sister, Yvette, and their mother before her. It was uny how time folded, how family ties echoed through geions.

  And now, as she held her little girl, she g to that bond, drawing strength from it for whatever challenges y ahead.

  Laguna Ramses was the elder of two daughters. While both sisters ied traits from their parents, Goonie (as Laguna was affeately known) took more after their father, while Yvette resembled their mother in both spirit and temperament.

  Their mom had been a diligent nurse, a woman who drilled her personal motto into her children’s heads nearly every day: “Do no harm and always be of service.” Those words were likely what inspired Yvette to pursue a career in medie. Goonie, however, had different ideas of how to put her mother’s motto to good use.

  She also wao tribute to the world around her, but Goonie knew from the start that college just wasn’t for her. Nor could she ever imagine herself clog in for a regur o-five job—not quite.

  Their dad was arepreneur—a natural talker with a genuine passion for food, which he eled into running his own food truck. But food service wasn’t always lucrative, so Papa Ramses frequently picked up odd jobs to make ends meet.

  His big break came when he and a group of friends scraped together enough funds to form a fleet of six trucks uhe name “Papa Ramses & Co.” While it wasn’t an ht success, the business brought more stability to the household. Watg her father’s hustle phe entrepreneurial seed in Goonie as well, alongside her own growing love of cooking.

  At eighteen, Gooarted her career w in one of her dad’s trucks, gradually ving him to teach her everything: how to order supplies, keep the books, and manage day-to-day operations. Over the years, she absorbed all she could, ying the groundwork for her own ambitions.

  Goonie’s daughter, Quinn, came into her life after a fling with a charming hippie. The retionship, while brief, had been enjoyable, but Quinn’s father wasn’t the settling-down type. To his credit, he tried early to send child support, though his payments were itent—likely due to his inability to part ways with his wandering lifestyle. Their only sistent tact was an annual Christmas card.

  Looking back, Gooen wondered what her younger self had seen in that long-haired drifter. Perhaps it was their shared vegetarianism, generally a dealbreaker foonie in her dating life. Though she’d dated many people, meat-eating was a line she wouldn’t cross.

  Ironically, despite Goonie’s best efforts to steer Quinn toward vegetarianism for the sake of her health, the battle had been mostly uphill from birth. Quinn craved meat, her willpower often no match for the lure of fast food. She would wheedle with puppy-dog eyes whehey ate out, and, on a while, those adorable, impish expressions wore down her mother’s resistance.

  At home, Goonie packed carefully pnned meals ri alternative protein sources, believing her efforts were building up a strong, eic child. And Quinn was indeed eid well-built for her age—or so it seemed. Iy, her clever daughter had been sing her lunches with cssmates curious toonie’s “weird but tasty” creations. With her allowance saved up, Quinn also indulged her secret habit of buying or bumming burgers and chi s, satisfying her cravings on the sly.

  Tragically, Quinn never really got to know her grandparents. Both had passed away in the same year, when she was far too young to retain many memories of them.

  Mama Ramses, ever the selfless workaholic, had pushed herself too hard for too long, ign troubling signs of illness. By the time she was diagnosed with cer, it was far too te, and she passed away within six months. Papa Ramses followed her just a few months ter, felled by a sudden stroke.

  In the wake of their loss, Goonie and Yvette had very amicably divided the modest family estate. Goonie specifically asked to take over the “Papa Ramses & Co.” business. Eventually, she sold her stake in the food truck fleet, saving the proceeds as seed money for a new venture she nning, her very own café.

  “Mom, why didn’t a superhero e and save him from that awful trunk Uncle Albert kept him in? Couldn’t they hear him g?” Quinn’s suddeion yanked Goo of her trip down memory ne.

  The young girl’s tone was imbued with such hurt and ahat Goonie’s heart almost broke all ain.

  “Oh, honey, heroes ’t be everywhere like that. They ’t stop every bad thing from happening,” Goonie said gently, her voice softening. Although she wasn’t the biggest fan of the world’s superheroes, their work saved tless lives. She felt the o defend them, if only a little.

  ging the subject, she tinued, “As for your Uncle Albert… he’d been spiraling out of trol for a while. The only thing I, or anyone else, could really do was keep a close eye on him and stantly che Leo. I knew something was wrong wheopped answering my calls and waited a bit too long to act.”

  Taking a deep breath, Goonie inhaled and exhaled slowly through her nose. “Your Aunt Yvette always saw and brought out the best in people. Albert was no exception. But with Yvette gone… I guess the worst in him was urainable under all that stress and grief—”

  She trailed off, lost in thought for a moment.

  After a pause, Quinn asked a question, putting on a tentative smile. It was one Goonie had no idea how to answer.

  “Don’t bme yourself, Mom. You were always thinking about him.”

  Laguna nodded soberly, still bming herself for some of what happeo him. If she’d been stricter, he wouldn’t have ended up in such dire straits.

  “Mom… is he… is Leo going to be my brother now?” Quinn’s face lit up with a spark of eagerness as she added, “I always wanted one.”

  Quinn had a knack for shifting the mood, her timing impeccable as ever. Sometimes, her ability to distract others from their worries bordered on genius. Laguna’s heart softened, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Reag out, she gently patted her daughter’s head. Her spunky daughter was simply irrepressible.

  “Well, I hope so… but we’ve got a lot of legal stuff to sort through first,” Goonie admitted.

  “Is it really all that plicated?” Quinn leaned closer, puzzling over her mother’s words. “Why ’t we just take him home?”

  “We , since we’re family, but Leo o be nursed back to health first and the hospital has to release him. In the meantime, I’ll talk to my wyer and see if we get a court date soon. I holy don’t think that no-good father of his will e back… but you never know. We o settle this while he’s still out of the picture. If he ever proves himself to be a det human being, we talk about it then. But for now, he doesn’t deserve the ce to defend his as—or to be anywhere near Leo.”

  “Where’d Uncle go?” Quinn asked, her tone aghast. “Uncle ran away?”

  Goonie nodded and sighed deeply. “Your Aunt Yvette’s death broke him in more ways than I imagined. He was always drunk when I called to check up on them most retly. His excuses turned into anger—irrational anger—and I started w about what he might do to Leo. Albert was falling apart.

  “What happeo Yvette hurt me too, but that’s no excuse to harm your own child, Albert! Leo may not even smile anymore!”

  “Why not?” Quinn asked ily. “All you have to do is think about cheerful things, and the smile es naturally, right?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Goonie expined. “You fake a smile, sure, but inside, you’re still hurting. Your heart feels like it’s g in. It’s not so easy to put on a real, genuine smile. That’s what I mean.”

  She gently patted the bright sandy-blonde hair atop her daughter’s head.

  Albert eventually surfaced in a flophouse near a seedy bar where he often tried to sleep. Most nights, he’d attempt to curl up on one of the bar’s pool tables until the manager iably threw him out. For a time, the maolerated him out of pity, seeing the broken man Albert had bee, but everyone’s patience has its limits. Finally, the manager called the police, who escorted Albert out and brought him to the drunk tank.

  It was there, in a haze of stale liquor a, that Albert was served a subpoena to appear in court. He didn’t bother hiring an attorney, showing up disheveled and alone, his shirt wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot, and his unshaven face a map of poor decisions.

  The courtroom was austere, its silence oppressive, broken only by the methodical ce of the prosecutor’s voice. Albert sat at the defendant’s table, his gaze fixed oricate grain of the wooden surface before him, as if it held the ao questions he couldn’t bear to ask. The charges echoed through the room: Child abando. . Attempted sed-degree murder. Each word nded with a weight that seemed to press the air around him.

  The jury had been out for less than an hour before they returheir decision written pinly on their solemn faces. Albert didn’t look at them. He didn’t o.

  He toyed briefly with the idea of pleading insanity. Surely, anyone would think him mad if they knew what he’d done—when he’d do. But was he insane? Albert wasn’t sure. His as didn’t feel detached from reason, just tangled in a logic he could no longer justify. Although insanity might have been an easy out, he chose not to take it. He had some pride left in him.

  No defense came to mind that could expin why he had pced Leo in that chest, not even his reasoning. Nument could absolve the suffog guilt that filled the silence left by the prosecutor’s words. He made no move to speak, his decision a quiet surrender.

  The foreperson rose ahe verdict with steady finality: “We, the jury, in the case of the State of California versus Albert William Walker, find the defendant guilty of abando and of children, and attempted sed-degree murder.”

  The judge, a stern but measured figure, cleared his throat. “Thank you, members of the jury, for your service. Court is adjourned.”

  Albert showed ion as the gavel came down, filling the air with a silence shattering bang. No protest. No defense. His shoulders sagged uhe weight of his as and the judgment rendered against him.

  Days ter, Albert was summoned back for senteng. This time, the courtroom acked with quiet onlookers. Among them sat Goonie and Quinn, the tter gring daggers at her uncle while Goonie kept posed but wore a cold expression.

  Judge Walce adjusted his gsses and addressed the court, “Mr. Walker, your as were not only ful but deeply harmful, and they have caused irreparable damage to your son. Given the severity of these charges and your failure to demonstrate remorse or responsibility, I hereby sentence you to fourteen years in prison and impose a fine of six thousand dolrs.”

  Albert nodded faintly, still silent.

  The judge tinued, “Furthermore, as you have proven unfit to fulfill your parental duties, Leo Walker will be pced uhe custody of his aunt, Laguna Ramses, who has stepped forward as his guardian. Mr. Walker, this court is also issuing a restraining ainst you. You are not to e within one hundred yards of your son, nor tact him in any form.”

  The gavel struck, sharp and unyielding, marking the end.

  That was when Albert erupted.

  He stood, his chair screeg against the floor, and began to ugh—a loud, jagged sound that filled the room. “Do you think I care about that twink brat?!” he spat, his voice ced with venom. He jabbed a trembling fi Goonie, his face twisted in a sneer. “And yiving him to her? That hippie bitch? Really? She couldn’t raise a weed, let alone a kid!”

  Gasps rippled through the courtroom as Albert’s tirade desded into something feral. Quined beside her mother, ched her fists and leaned forward as though ready t at him, but Goonie pced a calming hand on her shoulder.

  Judge Walce’s gavel thundered again, this time with a hard edge. “Order! Mr. Walker, you will sit down and be silent, or I will hold you in pt.”

  Albert only doubled down, his voice growing more erratic as he mocked Goonie, her parenting, and even Quinn, who gred daggers. Finally, the bailiffs moved iraining him as his insults devolved into i snarls.

  The judge exhaled sharply, his expression grim. “Mr. Walker, I repared to sider leniency based on the circumstances of yrief, but your behavior has demonstrated otherwise. I am adding an additional year to your sentence for pt of court.”

  Albert’s ughter choked off as the bailiffs hauled him out of the courtroom, his words eg faintly down the hall.

  Goo quietly through it all, her fareadable, but Quinn tugged on her sleeve. “Mom,” she whispered fiercely, her green eyes bzing, “Uncle Albert’s an absolute asshole.”

  Goonie didn’t reply immediately, her gaze fixed on the empty defendant’s chair. While she wao chastise her daughter for using a curse word, she couldn’t disagree. Finally, she said softly, “Anyway, he’s lost, Quinn. But he’s out of Leo’s life now—and that’s what matters.”

  Quinn’s lip curled. “Good. Leo doesn’t need him. He has us.”

  Goouro her daughter, her expression softening, and gave her a small smile. “That’s right. He has us.”

  After Leo’s treatment was fi the hospital and he was released, he moved into Laguna and Quinn’s home—a pce he’d visited a few times before with his mother. Those visits were hazy memories, but the house itself carried a faint warmth that he reized. It wasn’t just a house; it was a haven, a world apart from the cold and dark spaces he’d endured.

  When they crossed the threshold, Quinn spun around with a broad grin. “So I guess you’re staying with us food now!” she decred with her usual exuberance.

  Leo nodded numbly, his small shoulders drawn up and tight. His lips twitched in an almost-smile, but his ay liugging at his thoughts like a thread threatening to unravel him. He wasn’t sure what to say, but the house already felt different. Warmer. Safer.

  “Aww, c’mere, you!” Quinn excimed, darting toward him like a whirlwind. She scooped him up in her arms and hugged him tightly, resting her on his head. “We’re cousins and all, sure, but I always wanted a little brother! And now, here you are!”

  Leo let out a small sound, somewhere between a ugh and a sniffle, as Quily rocked him.

  Still holding him, Quinn added in a softer voice, “It’s okay to be nervous. But we’re family, and you’re home now.”

  After a moment, she set him ba the floor. Leo wandered a few steps away and looked around the living room. The townhouse was modest but cozy, its lived-in charm immediately apparent. Framed pictures of Goonie, Quinn, and a few family snapshots dotted the walls. The furniture atchwork of mismatched but fortable pieces, the kind that beed you to sit and stay awhile.

  As he took it all in, a familiar smell began to waft through the air, curling around him like a warm embrace. It was unmistakable—Goonie was cooking. The savory aroma brought back fshes of memory: visiting this house with his mom, Goonie bustling i, and that first bite of her cooking that always made him feel like the world wasn’t such a bad pce after all.

  His stomach growled audibly, breaking the quiet, and Quinn giggled. “Guess Auntie Goonie’s still the best cook in the world, huh?”

  Leo nodded again, this time a little more brightly. He took another deep breath, letting the f smell settle inside him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt hungry—and safe.

  But then, like a storm cloud rolling over a sunny sky, his thoughts turned. His mother’s face filled his mind: her kind eyes, her soft smile, the way she used to pull him into her arms for no reason at all. He’d always squirmed, protesting her affe with half-hearted grumbles, but now he would have given anything to feel her hug him again.

  Tears welled up in his eyes, then spilled over, streaking silently down his cheeks.

  Gooered the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Dinner’s gonna be ready in about—” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Leo standing there, his face crumpled with grief. Without hesitation, she crossed the room and k in front of him, ing him in her arms.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, pulling him close. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

  Leled at first, his small hands pushing weakly against her, but Goonie held firm. She rubbed his back, whispered soothing words, and even nuzzled his tear-streaked cheeks with her own.

  “I miss her,” Leo choked out, his voice crag.

  “I know you do,” Goonie whispered back. “And it’s okay to miss her. But you’re not alone, Leo. You’ve got me. You’ve got Quinn. We’re your family, and we’re going to get through this together.”

  Quin beside them, ing her arms around both of them in a group hug. “Yeah, Leo,” she said, her voice bright but steady. “We’re here for you. Always.”

  Leo’s cries eventually softened into little hiccups, and a small ugh bubbled up as Gooickled his sides lightly. “There’s my little guy,” she teased gently, brushing his damp hair back from his face.

  The road ahead was daunting, but in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his family, Leo felt something shift. The house wasn’t just a pymore; it was home.

  Time passed, and though Leo never fot his mother, the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble. It was slow, painstaking work—brick by brick, moment by moment—but Goonie and Quinn were patient. They filled the house with ughter, love, and the kind of care that heals even the deepest wounds.

  Nothing worth doing ever came easy, but for Leo, it was worth every siep.

  Relwing