Author Note:

Here I am, updating at night again :)

This chapter has been a long time in the making. Many of you have asked if Moms will ever discover that Callie overheard them arguing, as well as details about the fight between Callie and Jude. I don't want to give away too much, but will say that both of those events are connected and will be revisited. The next couple chapters will see Callie begin to take greater risks in opening up to Stef and Lena. She will be brave enough to bring up some aspects of the altercation she and Jude had, but will also be cautious—telling them things she feels she has no choice but to share. It should all make sense soon.

Enjoy! ~b

Chapter 39: Where it all Begins to Unravel

Jesse reflects on his feelings in the days after Leslie's death and how she has changed him.

"She had tricked him.

She had made him leave his old self behind and come into her world,

and then before he was really at home in it but too late to go back,

she had left him stranded there-like an astronaut wandering about on the moon.

Alone." [Ch 12, p. 114]

What do you think Jesse means? Why do you think he feels this way?

Callie did a double take as she read the question on the Bridge to Terabithia worksheet, which was due this week. Her heart sank as she turned to the right page. The offending prose had been circled several times in pencil by whoever had had it last, as if to rub things in. Lately, it'd been easier to forget her betrayed feelings, but reading that had struck a chord.

Trying to shake it off, Callie scanned the paragraphs before and after the one referenced to come up with content for her answer. Having a hard time, she pushed it aside and briefly considered waiting for Stef to come home to get her help.

She kicked herself for even thinking about it. Used to having Stef and Lena around, it had been hard not to warm up to them. Still, she resented that they had made her want to rely on them before pulling the rug out from beneath her. Just as she was starting to trust them and become comfortable enough to let go of whatever she'd been hanging on to, they had decided they weren't so sure anymore. She had been so much of a disappointment that it'd caused Stef to regret having her. To wish the police had taken her away so she would no longer be their problem.

At first, Callie had tried not to let what she'd learned bother her too much. But as time went on, she became increasingly on edge and resentful about it. Never before had she felt this unwanted—the whole thing made worse by the way Stef and Lena carried on being nice despite how they really felt about her. She couldn't stop second-guessing if they truly meant what they said, even if it was something good.

To cope with the mounting uncertainty about her place in the family, she had been dogged in her efforts to not give the women any more reason to be upset with her. She was careful to stay out of their way to avoid making another mistake around them. Still annoyed with Jude, she distanced herself from him to avoid another fight that would land her in trouble. It was easier that way, and she didn't have to worry about putting on a happy face. Because…as much as it bothered her to admit it, Callie really did want this to work out. Stef and Lena were kind and never hesitated to make time for her, giving her everything she needed and could possibly ever want.

But even being on her best behaviour couldn't keep the gnawing insecurity at bay, which reminded her this was probably too good to be true—that the current arrangement would eventually come to an end. So whenever she could, Callie told herself not to become too comfortable. That if she did, not only would it hurt when they told her she couldn't live here anymore, but that she would be completely lost.

True, her foster mothers spoke of the adoption incessantly, but she couldn't bring herself to believe them. If they had had a moment when they entertained the idea of not having her, there would be nothing to stop them from thinking—and possibly acting on—it again.

So Callie kept tiptoeing, determined to prolong the inevitable.

As Callie slogged through the assignment, an all too familiar, hollow feeling in her chest overwhelmed her. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had heard Stef admit to weeks ago when she stood outside the storm door, deciding how she'd come inside.

When the dam holding back her angry tears eventually broke, Callie was grateful that apart from Lena—who was in the bath at the moment—no one else was home. Jude and Mariana were with friends for class projects, Brandon was at his Dad's, and Jesus was at some activity. And Stef? She was working late. Again.

Wanting to feel better, she threw her binder at the wall by her bed, satisfied by the thud it made. She looked around, wondering what else she could take her frustration out on, when she saw the open novel. In a fit of rage and impulsivity, she grabbed it and began to tear page after yellowing page from it before pitching it as hard as she could across the room.

Callie followed its trajectory with impressed horror as it hit her bedside lamp, causing it to rock on its base. Just as it looked like it might be okay, the lamp toppled over onto the floor.

She winced as it smashed and, almost immediately, Lena called out from the ensuite. "Callie? Is that you? Everything alright?"

"Uh—YEAH! I—MY BINDER FELL!" she yelled back, hoping Lena wouldn't pick up on her panic as she hurried off the bed. Her eyes widened as she realized the ceramic and bulb had shattered into pieces. Needing a bandaid solution, Callie pulled her sweatshirt sleeve over her hand before using her arm to sweep as much of the mess under her bed, along with the ripped up book and it's pages. She would need some time to figure out how to fix this—but it needed to happen before Lena finished her bath and Stef got home.

"I forgot to take out the garbage!" Callie shouted as she bounded down the stairs. A lie...but she needed an excuse to go out into the garage.

Callie groaned in frustration, knowing that if she didn't head in soon, Lena would start to wonder what was taking her so long. Unfortunately, she'd only managed to find the wood glue and she was fairly certain that that wouldn't work.

As Callie depressed the latch on the storm door, it struck her that this could be the last straw. She'd been trying to behave but things had been far from perfect. Her sleepwalking the other night had kept Stef up late, delaying everyone the next day. And of course, there was that incident with forging her signature and fighting with Jude.

Noticing that the light in the upstairs bathroom was still on, she took a segue and wandered along the side of the house to the front yard. After having to repeatedly start over in a new placement, only to be ousted months later, she couldn't bring herself to go in. Stef and Lena's wasn't the longest place she'd stayed but it was by far, the closest she'd ever gotten to a forever home. At her age, this was probably her last hope at being adopted. And she'd managed to blow it over some stupid homework.

Callie fingered the latch on the gate, hesitating for a moment before making up her mind. Being careful not to let it slam, she opened it slowly and closed it behind her. If she was going to leave, it had to be while Lena was busy. It wasn't ideal and definitely not something she wanted, but at this point, seemed better than being told to go.

However, by the time she'd reached the park at the end of their block, Callie was beginning to have second thoughts. She was out of breath and her feet ached from hitting the pavement. Not having planned to go anywhere but the garage, she'd left the house with only socks on—and, apart from the clothes she had on, she didn't have any of her belongings. Her money and backpack were still in her room, and she had no idea where she'd stay tonight.

Callie brushed away her tears, which had turned cold in the evening chill. Tomorrow would be a good day to call Bill and ask to go to a group home. From there, all she'd have to do would be to make it three years before being able to apply for independent living. Then, she could start saving and maybe the women would've forgiven her enough by then to let her see Jude.

Jude. She hadn't even said goodbye to him.

She was going to miss Lena's cooking, Stef's snarky sense of humour. Everything they'd talked about doing together as a family…

Wandering back up the street, it began to dawn on her that it hadn't been a good idea to leave.

She began to think about Lena coming out of the bathroom and finding out she wasn't in her room like she was supposed to be. Then calling Stef at work, who wouldn't be happy.

Callie's panic mounted at the sudden realization that she'd gone the way the cop took to and from work. Meaning she needed to find another way home quickly, before they ran into each other—because that would be really bad. It wasn't difficult to recall how upset her foster mothers had been the last time she'd run away. In fact, she was still on restriction because of it. Knowing that she'd be in major trouble if they found out she'd left at this hour, Callie ran for the closest alley and raced home.

This time, she didn't hesitate to burst through the back door.

Half an hour later, still rattled and now hungry from the adventure she'd had, Callie decided to make herself toast. Though relieved to find Stef wasn't home yet and Lena still in her bath, she still wanted to avoid going upstairs in case Lena began to ask questions. At least this way she would have something to do.

Unfortunately, it wasn't an easy a task as Callie had hoped. One slice had managed to become wedged and after many failed attempts to dislodge it from the slot resulted in singed fingers, she decided to pry it out with a fork.

In the meantime—unbeknownst to her daughter—Stef had come in through the front door. Wanting to lock up her stuff right away, she headed upstairs and said a quick hello to Lena before heading back down. She had just gotten one foot into the kitchen when she saw Callie go at the toaster with the utensil in her hand.

"JE-SUS!" she exclaimed, running over to her daughter in strides. "ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME CALLIE?"

Startled by the commotion, Callie jumped and spun around. She'd been so preoccupied that she hadn't heard Stef at all. Sorry—I'm sorry!" she apologized, flinching as the fork hit the counter and fell onto the floor with a clang. Her foster mother was yelling and she had no idea why.

All it took was one look for Stef to realize she had scared her child; Callie was breathing hard, braced up against the counter. She felt terrible for being the source of Callie's fear, even if it'd been to prevent her from getting hurt.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to yell like that. You just scared me half to death, that's all," Stef explained, forcing her voice steady. It wasn't easy; her heart was still pounding from that dose of excitement Callie had given her. "I'm not mad," she said quietly, "...you're not in any trouble."

She'd forgotten how sensitive her daughter had been over the last couple days. How careful she and Lena had needed to be with their words.

"Just unplug if you're going to do that," Stef reminded, reaching over to do precisely that before easily popping the bread out. "Whatcha got here?" she asked as she surveyed the items laid out on the counter, which included a banana. "You want peanut butter toast with banana..." she said, guessing the answer before Callie could. She smiled to herself; this was the first time the girl had helped herself to something to eat and she couldn't wait to tell Lena. "Open-faced?"

Callie looked dejectedly at the charred slice of bread. "No…inside," she whispered hoarsely, glad Stef was offering to make it for her.

The woman popped in two new slices of bread, confident she would be able to amend this sad state of affairs. "Sure thing! One PB and banana toast coming right up!" She rubbed Callie's arm, trying to ease the tension from her daughter. "Here, love. Why don't you come sit with me while I have my dinner? I want to hear about your day."

Deciding that the woman's encouraging smile meant things were safe, Callie allowed herself to be steered to the table.

Wanting her daughter to tuck in, Stef brought over milk, yogurt, and grapes before returning to fix the toast. She sliced the banana thinly and cut the sandwich diagonally—how Callie liked it—before setting the plate in front of her. "Go ahead," she encouraged, seeing the girl hesitate. "I'm going to heat up my dinner and I'll be right there."

"Mam—Lena—left you your plate in the fridge," Callie said, remembering she was supposed to remind Stef. She felt her mouth go dry, upset by how easily the word had tumbled out. Her defences had been weakened.

"Nice. Thanks, Bug. What did Mama cook?" the cop asked, grateful that she was rummaging around in the fridge. She was confused by hearing Callie call Lena by name—it hadn't happened for a while now.

"Uhm, salmon and green beans and twice-baked potatoes. Oh…and barley soup," Callie added in a less than enthused tone. Barley soup was jail food.

"Mmm, your favourite!" Stef chuckled at the transparency of her daughter's feelings over the soup. "So, she had time to make twice-baked potatoes on a weeknight? Someone must've been helping her if she was feeling that ambitious," she said, winking at Callie. The girl smiled shyly at her, confirming she'd been the one beside Lena tonight. Still, the woman was starting to get the sense something was off. Her daughter had been much quieter than her usual self and avoiding eye contact with her, a habit they'd been slowly moving away from. But what mostly concerned her was Callie's damp hair and filthy socks—she was showered, but it was out of character for her to get back into soiled clothes afterwards. Unlike Jude, Callie was good about picking a clean outfit. Then it dawned on her as she took in the girl's blue-tinged lips and shivering for the first time since coming in: Callie had been outside.

"How was school?" Stef asked when she was finally able to sit down at the table.

Callie shrugged, chasing down her sandwich with milk. "Okay."

The cop frowned; she was hoping for a little more than that. "Do you have any homework left?"

Callie's eyes widened as she considered how she'd finish the rest of her English questions with half a novel. "Some…" she whispered. Feeling a lump form in her throat, she averted her gaze. If Stef and Lena found out, they'd be so mad.

Concerned by the reaction, Stef put down her fork to give her daughter her full attention. "Did you get a chance to work on that National song tonight?" she questioned casually. This time, Callie could only manage to shake her head before falling silent again.

"You doing okay, love?" the cop pressed, determined for any level of engagement. "We've barely seen you all week and are missing having you around."

Her daughter's gaze darted up to meet her's before falling again.

"Sorry," Callie mumbled, worried Stef was getting annoyed. "I'm just really tired…" she trailed off.

"Still having trouble sleeping?" More and more, Stef was becoming convinced that Callie needed intervention for her poor sleep. But she could hear her wife now. I am not medicating my children, Stef.

"No…" Callie lied. She peeled the wrapper from the yogurt, grateful to have something to focus on. She had been waking up more after that nightmare but wasn't going to admit that.

"Are you sure?" Judging by the inflection in her daughter's voice, Stef knew that wasn't the truth.

She sighed when Callie only shrugged and her shoulders sagged even further. Something had happened in the last few days that had caused Callie's mistrust in them to ramp up. They needed to earn it back by showing her—not just expecting her to give it back because she'd been asked to.

Seeing Callie retreat and fold into herself after a period of time in which she'd been comfortable enough to come out of their shell was disheartening, to say the least. She and Lena suspected that the hurt feelings that had resulted from Callie and Jude's fight were contributing to how withdrawn the girl had been lately. This, they'd been spending extra time with her. As much as Callie would tolerate it, they'd talk about the adoption and some of her goals to keep her hopes up about the future. They hung out in the bathroom a little longer while she showered and read to her before bed. It was difficult, though, to suss out how much she heard them. Because unfortunately, she only appeared to become more guarded and worried, requiring more reassurance about things she and Lena thought had already been established. Even the slightest redirection—like a routine reminder about picking up her side of the room—would lead to tears.

Stef grabbed her napkin and turned in her chair. "Look up for me, sweets," she instructed, gently lifting Callie's chin with her thumb and forefinger. There was peanut butter by her mouth. "There," she fussed as she wiped away the smudge.

"You've taken your shower already?" she asked, pleased when Callie confirmed with a nod. "That's my good girl."

Having expected Callie to crack a smile at being praised, she was taken aback when her daughter's chin trembled and she pulled away instead. "Sweetness…whatever is going on, you need to tell us. Let us in," she began, convinced she needed to know about what the girl was hiding. There was a lot more going on than Callie being tired. "You can come to Mama and I with anything—you know that, right?" Stef pled, desperate for Callie to believe her. "Please, honey. What is it? I want to help."

Callie regarded the woman with a wary look. Now that the adrenaline from the evening had worn off, she was too tired to pretend everything was okay and to wonder if Stef was onto her. Part of her did want to be honest, if only to find out how the women would react. Because the more they were nice to her, the more uneasy and confused she'd become. It only made things harder in the long run; to have it so good would only make the separation more difficult when she no longer had them to rely on.

"It's nothing," Callie said hoarsely as guilt and disappointment bubbled inside her. She hadn't the slightest idea how she'd tell the cop—nor was she ready to. She wished she hadn't ripped her book or broken the lamp, adding to all the other missteps she had recently made. In hindsight, leaving the house had been her biggest mistake—one she knew Stef wouldn't be happy about.

"Bug…" Stef said sympathetically, seeing the worry etched on the girl's face. Callie was obviously nervous. "I promise you, whatever it is, is not going to be as bad as you think. You've got so much on your plate right now...and you'll feel so much better after you let it out. We can fix it together," she said, slowly coaxing the truth out from her. Callie was so close to spilling.

Callie took a deep breath. "Stef—I…I messed up," she finally conceded, her expression filling with genuine remorse. "I'm sorry…y—you and Lena are gonna be so mad!"

"Slow down, Bug. What makes you think you messed up?" Not wanting Callie to stop communicating, Stef forced a neutral reaction despite bracing herself internally. Judging by the way Callie had gone back to calling her and Lena by name, the insecurity was in full swing.

The girl stared dubiously, confused by the question. "I m—made a mistake." Unable to help the tears from rolling down her cheeks, she rubbed them away impatiently.

"Don't we all?" Stef challenged as she brushed the hair out of her daughter's face. "Are you afraid that Mama and I will be angry with you because you made a mistake?" she asked, slightly nervous by what she might learn.

"I see. That's understandable," she empathized when Callie nodded.

"Well, I can't promise we won't be—I think you already know that, hey?" she continued, trying to reconcile honesty with the reassurance her daughter was looking for at this moment. "…but I will tell you this. We usually get upset because we don't completely understand the reasoning behind your decisions, and because we believe in you to make the choices we know you're more than capable of. So all that would happen is that we'd talk about it and listen to what you have to say. You're making such a brave decision by being honest about something you're not proud of. That's never a mistake," she said, cradling the girl's face between her palms as she shook her head for emphasis. "At the end of the day, nothing changes. We still love you very much. Nothing's unforgivable, honey."

Callie shook her head; she didn't believe that. "I ran away, okay?!" she blurted out in frustration. She sniffed as more pent up tears coursed down her face.

"You what? You ran away?" Stef exhaled, giving a pained smile. She wasn't sure she'd heard that right.

Her daughter nodded a yeah before her face crumpled. "Where did you go?" she asked, gently squeezing both of Callie's hands in her's in a soothing gesture.

The girl glanced up cautiously as she tried to read her reaction. "Down the block, to—to the park," she said timidly before her voice pitched and gave way to soft cries. "But I c—came home right a—away!" she added, hoping that might mitigate whatever consequence Stef and Lena would come up with. None of them were allowed to go anywhere without permission—especially not her.

The whole thing had left her discouraged. Because she'd been trying—really trying—to follow the rules after the last few times she'd gotten into trouble and it hadn't been easy. Her foster moms' expectations were a lot to keep track of and she never got a say in anything. Often, she found she didn't think about what she was doing until well past the point to turn things around. And she could never come up with a reason why, other than it had made sense at the time.

Stef bit her lip, trying to hide her disappointment. Although she was proud of her daughter's honesty, the park was not, as Callie had described, only a block away. It was much further and the street to get there was poorly lit and treelined. Frankly, thinking of her thirteen-year-old wandering outside alone at night alarmed her. Unfortunately, this had only proven, once again, why they couldn't fully trust Callie. Still, they couldn't expect her to blindly come to heel either. At this age, mischief was to be expected.

"What made you come back?" she asked curiously. She was, of course, relieved but wanted to know what had changed Callie's mind.

"I'm not allowed to go anywhere without you or Lena. I thought you...you'd be really mad if you found me so I came home," the girl mumbled.

Stef smiled fondly. Home. Callie had called it her home. Even when her daughter was in trouble she never failed to worm her way further into her heart.

"You're not wrong, Cal. Why do you think I would have been upset?"

Callie frowned at the woman's confusion. "Cause, you said. Not to leave without asking," she said slowly. "Or go anywhere alone."

Stef had to cough to avoid laughing at the baffled expression on her daughter's face. Dr. Wiseman had warned them about this. Callie had enough foresight to consider the repercussions of her actions and decide it wasn't worth it. But while it had worked in convincing her that she was better off reconsidering to heed their rules, it was still very fear-driven—not quite what she expected from someone Callie's age. Ideally, she would've liked some acknowledgement on the girl's part that leaving without telling anyone was unsafe.

"Yes, I would've come looking for you had I come home to find you'd left. And yes, you would have been in hot water when I found you. Very hot water, missy," Stef said, choking up. There'd been too many close calls with Callie bolting, even when they thought they'd been watching her carefully. It was becoming a safety issue.

Thankful nothing bad had happened to her daughter while she'd been out alone, Stef gripped Callie by the shoulders and held her at arms length. "You can't, Callie—you can't be doing that. It's unsafe, honey. Please don't do that again." She could only hope her words were having an impact. "I am so, so proud of you, though, for deciding to come home and for telling me. Mama will be too."

Callie's stomach did a somersault. "Do you have to tell her? I don't want you to," she protested.

"I'm sorry, honey, but we do. You know that," the cop replied calmly, seeing Callie's muted panic. "Is there a reason you ran away? Did you fight with Jude again? Was Mariana mean to you?"

The cop sighed when her attempt to distract Callie only resulted in her freezing. They would need to deal with this sooner than later—to let the girl know that things would be fine between them.

"Alright. Let's go find Mama."

"I don't need help!" Callie said, a little too defensively for Stef to be comfortable letting her go into her room by herself.

The woman cocked an eyebrow at Callie, who was standing in the middle of the doorway. Telling her she definitely needed to go in there to check things out. As they had headed upstairs, her daughter's reluctance to talk with Lena had grown. By the time they'd gotten to the top landing, Callie had outright refused to go into the master bedroom, insisting she was tired and wanted to go to bed. Eventually, she had worn down the cop.

Stef sighed in exasperation. "Teeth," she reminded, pointing to the bathroom. "Callie. Brushing is not negotiable," she warned, a little more firmly, when she received a blank stare.

"I can get ready myself!" Callie asserted. She wasn't moving until the woman left.

"Alright..." The cop waved to the bathroom again. "So get ready then. Brush. Wash your face. I need to make your bed anyways so I can tuck you in."

"NO!" Callie quickly blocked the woman as she tried to walk through the door. She didn't like that Stef would be in her room, either.

"Callie. What?" Stef said impatiently. Her exasperation was mounting.

Callie swallowed, not sure how she could get rid of her foster mother. "Can you, um…go away?" she finally blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Stef scoffed, half laughing. It never failed to amuse her how her children assumed they could pull the veil over her eyes. "Alright, missy. Inside. Now" she ordered, pulling Callie aside and swatting her lightly on the rear to move her along. "No more games."

The source of her daughter's anxiety immediately became obvious once the light flicked on. Pieces of white ceramic and glass littered the floor by the nightstand. "Your lamp broke, did it?" the woman said casually. No wonder Callie had been stalling. If she had been previously punished for things being broken, it was only natural that she'd tried to hide it now.

"Can you go get the broom and dustpan for me, love? There's one in the closet down the hall."

Callie stared blankly at her before turning and running out of the room. By the time she returned, she was red in the face and breathless.

"NO! Don't look there!" the girl exclaimed, panicking as Stef got down on her knees to peer under her bed. While it'd only be a matter of time before her foster mom found the rest of it, she was apprehensive about how she would react. "Not yet…" Callie added, embarrassed by the quizzical expression the cop was now regarding her with.

"I have to, honey. It's not a big deal but we do need to clean up," Stef explained, keeping her tone soft. The underlying tremor in her daughter's words indicated she was close to tears.

"I didn't mean to—I'm sorry," Callie said tentatively as she handed over the broom.

"Things break. You are worth much more than something I can run out to the store for," the woman pointed out, trying to put Callie's fears to rest while she assessed the extent of the mess underneath the bed. "A lamp is replaceable…you are not."

She sighed, feeling like she was getting nowhere. "Did it get knocked over?"

"Kinda, yeah," Callie whispered. Stef's words had done nothing for her conscience. Sure, she hadn't meant to break the lamp but she had meant to wreck her book. The lamp had, unfortunately, been an unintended target of her anger.

Stef winced at the distinct sensation of glass crunching under her boots. She'd need to run the vacuum over after. "Stay where you are. I don't want you to cut yourself," she instructed, reaching for the dustpan. Changing her mind, she got up and pulled a new pair of pyjamas from the dresser, tossing them at Callie before returning to the task at hand. "Actually, sit on Mariana's bed and get into your PJs—I won't look," she said, hoping a distraction would quell her daughter's nerves.

"How on earth did you manage to get all of this under here?" Stef asked after awhile. Some fragments were all the way by the back wall and she was having a hell of a time reaching everything with the broom.

Shedding her socks and pulling the pyjama top over her head, Callie shrugged at her foster mother.

Confused at discovering ripped pages as she swept, Stef paused to unfurl one that'd been crumpled into a ball. "What'd Katherine Paterson do to you, sweets?" she asked, seeing the Bridge to Terabithia title.

Callie paled at the question. "N—nothing. I—I didn't mean to wreck it," she stammered, heart thudding.

"Do you want to try and talk about what happened?" the cop asked, desperate to understand the precipitating events that had lead to Callie destroying her novel. "That's okay," she said, deciding to back off when she saw her daughter's downcast expression. "We'll have our chat tomorrow." It was probably better to get Lena up to speed on the events of the evening before their discussion, anyway.

Knowing she probably wouldn't get much else out of Callie, she focused on retrieving the rest of the pages, shaking each one out. Eventually, she found the novel, its cover still intact but hanging off. Winded from the effort and bloated from dinner, she unbuckled her belt to give herself a little more room to work with. Glancing at the time, she shook her head; it was already well past Callie's bedtime.

The girl's eyes widened as she saw her foster mother's hands go to her waist. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to deal with the panic rising in her throat.

Stef wouldn't beat her. She believed that.

However, burdened by the knowledge that there'd been a time when the cop wanted her out of their home brought on a familiar, painful ache. One that reminded her that the ground on which she stood was vulnerable of giving way at any moment.

Her stomach flipped at the thought that Stef could stop her adoption and just like that, she'd be sent to another placement with people who were far less nice. People like Val who would probably hit her with a belt for something like this. Fearing that outcome, Callie decided she'd better convince her foster mom she was worth keeping. "I can pay for another copy!" she offered, hoping that would smooth things over enough to sway Stef's opinion about her. If she could come up with a way to fix this, Stef and Lena would have one less thing to be mad at her about.

"My love, it's not about the book. I don't care about the book," Stef replied, her heart aching at seeing Callie's panic-stricken face.

Certain that she had enough money stashed in her bag, Callie hopped off Mariana's bed. She wanted to show the cop she was serious. To get a replacement at school, all she would need to do would be to pay for a second deposit.

"Cal—CALLIE!" Stef shouted, panic inadvertently causing her to raise her voice. Her daughter had just missed stepping on the pile of shards she had swept up. "You need to go sit on Mari's bed. I'm serious," she said, uncomfortable with Callie wandering around in bare feet.

Annoyed and perplexed when Callie all but ignored her, she got up off the floor and quickly walked over to the girl. "I am not telling you again," she warned, harshening her tone.

Crushed at the unexpected sternness, Callie choked up and began to cry. Even with the best of intentions, all she had managed to do was to upset her foster mom further—giving her one more reason to not want her. "Stef—I—I won't do it again. P—promise. I'm s—sorry," she apologized.

The cop winced at hearing her name. To go from being Mom, only to have it suddenly revoked was an indescribable loss. It felt incredibly unfair.

"I know you won't. And I appreciate your apology, I really do, honey. But there's still glass on the floor so you and me—we're going to go have our talk with Mama right now," she said firmly. She reached for Callie, hoping to coax her into obeying, only to feel her heart constrict when the girl recoiled.

"No. I need my bag," Callie retorted as she stubbornly tried to go around the woman. She was determined to fix this, but she couldn't with Stef in her way.

As Stef blocked her daughter from sidestepping past her a second time, it occurred to her that she was quickly running out of options. For whatever reason, Callie had no intention of listening, and she was certain it would only be a matter of time before she got hurt. This time, when her daughter tried that maneuver again, Stef was anticipating it. Wrapping her arms around the girl's torso, she pulled her up off the floor and walked briskly out of the room. As if she could leave behind all of Callie's fears the sooner she got them out of there.

"Sorry, lovebug, but you can't be in your room right now. You're going to end up with a cut in your foot," Stef said, speaking quietly into her daughter's ear. That was the last thing they needed. "You're not in trouble but we are going to sit down together until you calm down and can talk about what's going on."

Completely frustrated with not being able to do what she wanted, Callie pushed against the woman with both palms to break free. "No! NO! LET GO! I'M NOT GOING WITH YOU! I'M NOT!"

Stef's voice faltered as she continued to talk over the girl's protests. So disproportionate was the reaction to what had taken place that all she could think about was the magnitude of Callie's mistrust in her. And that was hurtful—much more than her daughter's failed attempts to get away from her. She was just thankful that this wasn't the first time she had picked Callie up—her body knew exactly what its job was to counterbalance the girl's weight, even amidst the angry fists pummelling her back and intermittent kicks to her shins.

By now, Lena had overheard the commotion and had come running. "What's going on?" she mouthed as her wife plunked herself down at the foot of their bed, bringing Callie with her.

The cop shook her head; she didn't have an answer. Bracing one foot up against the bed frame, she held Callie close—having her stand in between her legs, both arms around her daughter's upper body. Satisfied Callie wouldn't be going anywhere, she allowed her to rage and waited for the storm to pass.

In the meantime, she and Lena carried on a conversation in the manner parents did when their children were in the vicinity.

"I should get changed," Stef pointed out after several long minutes had passed, hoping her wife would catch her drift. It was true—she was starting to overheat in the polyester uniform as she maintained her hold on Callie. But the real issue was that she was starting to question if this was the right approach and how long she could keep this up.

Putting her hair into a bun, Lena nodded. She had felt helpless watching things unfold and was anxious to switch off with her wife.

Eventually, Callie's fatigue began to set in. Her foster mom was way stronger than she was and the more she struggled, the tighter she was held. Remembering what else she'd done to annoy the women in recent weeks, all her troubles began to tumble out.

"I d—didn't push J—Ju—Jude like h—he said!" she managed to utter before a shuddering breath stopped her. Finding it hard to get her words out, she became even more angry. "He took—he t—TOOK it...he wouldn't g—give it BACK! I was trying to g—get it b—back."

The cop frowned, exchanging a puzzled look with Lena. Neither understood why the altercation was being brought up again. "I don't think Mama and I were ever convinced you shoved your brother without reason, baby girl..." she murmured. Her daughter was nearly incomprehensible at this point, but the important pieces were there.

"NO! M—MOM! I d—DIDN'T!" Callie screamed through her tears. No one was listening; she hadn't pushed him!

Desperate to tell her truth, she hiccupped her way through the rest of her explanation. "A—and I—I didn't t—throw it! J—Jude dr—dropped it!"

"THE CAS—SETTE PLAYER!" Callie exploded when both women looked confused.

Telling on Jude felt awful but she hoped that by telling the women the whole story about why she'd been mean to him would clear some of the mistakes off her plate. Jude was wanted. He could afford to make mistakes—she couldn't.

Compared to her little brother, she had a lot more to lose.

Stef's eyes widened at the outburst. She had seen her daughter angry and upset before, but not like this. "Bug, I am so sorry, but I don't understand…are you afraid that you're going to get hurt because some things broke?" she ventured, recalling the night terror.

Callie shook her head forcefully. She wanted validation from Stef and Lena that everything would be okay. That they knew some of those things she'd originally taken responsibility for hadn't been her fault at all. But she wasn't getting it.

"Because we don't punish for accidents, right?" Stef said, drawing from everything she knew of the children's past to allay Callie's fears. "We do not do that here, sweets."

"Y—you, Y—YOU W—W—WILL" Callie sobbed, her accusations increasingly incoherent. Stef would get rid of her. "You w—will a—and it'll b—be o—over!"

The woman frowned. Will what? "No…" she said. "You will not be in any trouble for an accident. Do you not believe me?" They had definitely talked about this in the delirium of her daughter's night terror; obviously, Callie didn't remember.

"But—but it w—w—wasn't all an a—acc—cident!" Callie blubbered as she renewed her efforts to pull away from the cop. "The la—lamp was but—but not th—he b—book!"

"Callie. Love. You need to believe us. No—" Stef turned Callie's chin towards her. "Look at me. You aren't in trouble; we aren't mad at you. It doesn't matter who broke what, or what got broken. It's nothing that can't be fixed. It's nothing—nothing—to be this upset about," she soothed. "…If you're worried we will be upset or won't love you…Mama and I, we love you so much and—"

"—DON'T SAY THAT!" Callie screamed, startling both women with another outburst. Throwing that word around was not only confusing, but hurtful and unfair. "YOU DON'T GET TO SAY THAT!" Feeling Stef loosen her grip, she wrenched herself out of her hold.

She had had it. Like Jesse in the book, who had been learning to embrace what Leslie wanted him to, she had been trying to do what Stef wanted her to as well. It had led her away from everything she had known. Slowly, as the women welcomed her into their lives and talked about their plans to adopt, she'd begun to ignore the voice of insecurity inside that told her to be careful with who she trusted.

Finally, when she barely had one foot in the door—ready to let go and accept them as her family, Stef had admitted to not wanting her after all.

The door had closed, leaving her outside in the dark with no way to come in or go back to where she came from. It had been the worst feeling in the world: being too far away from what was familiar to know how to return—but with no way to move forward, either.

"Okay. Okay. I won't say that…" Stef acquiesced, putting up her palms. She wouldn't insist if Callie wasn't ready to hear those words but she was stunned by the sudden animosity towards her.

The words amounted to a punch to the gut, made all the more painful because they'd been seeing emerging signs of Callie's attachment to them lately. She had begun to acknowledge that they were her Moms, express her affection towards them, and refer to their home in a way that suggested she felt it was her's. Callie had been letting them in. Watching the progress unravel was disheartening.

At a loss as to what she could do other than offer Stef a much-needed reprieve, Lena sat down beside her so she could also face their daughter. She knew that Callie's reaction had hurt her wife. Stef's eyes were red, brimming with tears, and her chin trembled with emotion. The cop was barely holding it together.

"Sweetheart," Lena began, feeling herself on the verge of tears. "Will you let me hold you?" she asked, desperate to comfort her daughter. Callie was crying uncontrollably now, her ability to regulate her breathing long gone. "We don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. It just makes me sad to see you so upset."

The women held a collective breath as Callie hesitated, appearing to be caught off guard by the offer. Her expression softened, showing all her vulnerability and uncertainty. In the past, it'd been Lena who worked her magic when their daughter was heading into a meltdown.

Prepared when their daughter eventually gave a dejected nod, Lena gathered her into her arms. "Come here. Shh…shh, baby. Let it out," she consoled, resting her head against Callie's. "I'm right here and am not going anywhere," she said, tearing up as her child clung to her—big, heaving sobs shaking her body.

"I d—don't w—want her to say th—at!" Callie repeated hoarsely, having lost her voice from all the shouting she had done.

"We won't say it if you're not ready yet. Not until you're okay with it," Lena placated. She was fine respecting Callie's request. There were a multitude of ways they expressed affection for their children. However, they needed to be careful with their messaging—that they wouldn't withdraw that language forever—only until Callie was comfortable with it.

Hoping to bring the girl back from the brink of a panic attack, she began to sway in place. "Deep breaths," she instructed, just as a coughing fit triggered Callie's gag reflex. Afraid her daughter would make herself sick from the prolonged crying, Lena took her hand and pressed the sweaty palm against her chest. "Just like this, sweetheart. That's right," Lena said as she took deep breaths to demonstrate.

She kept her other arm wrapped around the girl as the sobs gradually ceased. Finally, she found the courage to ask the question that had been on her mind since she stumbled upon her wife carrying Callie into their room.

"What got you so worked up, baby…?

"What's gotten you this worked up?"

A/N: Hope this turned out alright. Let me know what you thought.

P.S. Thanks very much for the well wishes and messages! New babe and big sis seem to be settling in well (so far, anyways), my recovery has been good, and though we're exhausted, we're happy.