The stairs creaked under my weight as I went back up. I pushed the door open slowly.
Kai was curled up on my narrow cot, swallowed by my old flannel shirt. She looked small. Fragile. The light from the laptop screen beside her washed her face in a blue glow. On the screen was Bronc, being interviewed on some big news network. The caption underneath him read 'Billionaire Philanthropist'.
"Look at him," she said, her voice soft and filled with awe. "He's so important. He's doing so much good in the world. I'm so lucky, Ryder. Really, I am."
I didn't say anything. What could I say? That I agreed? That the man on the screen had everything I'd ever wanted? Instead, I went to the wardrobe. I grabbed some dry clothes for myself—jeans, a clean shirt.
I walked behind the flimsy partition in the corner. It wasn't much, just a old screen, but it was a barrier. I needed it.
"How are things at home, Kai?" I asked from behind it, my voice muffled by the fabric I was pulling off.
