Blood and Betrayal
“The one for the foster kids. I want to make the common room circular. No corners for anyone to get backed into.”
Toby laughed, a warm, grounding sound. “You and your circles. You’re going to bankrupt the contractors with all that custom glass.”
“Let them complain. It’s worth it.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of bruised plum and burning orange—the colours of my past turned into the beauty of my present—Toby stopped and turned to me.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wooden box. It wasn’t velvet. It wasn’t from a high-end jeweller in the city. It was hand-carved from driftwood, the grain of the wood swirling like the tide.