Free One Door Closes by G.B. Lindsey

neckline of his shirt in a dark sweep, but it had been much worse earlier. “I’m done for the day. Unless you need anything else?”
    It wasn’t until Will’s skin began to flush up his throat that Calvin realized he was staring rather obviously. But it was tough not to. Will looked tired. More than just overworked. “You don’t look too good.”
    Will brushed a hand over his forehead. “I’m fine. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
    Calvin opened his mouth, but Will took a step back. The whole motion was almost a flurry, a momentum that stopped Calvin’s.
    “So, if there isn’t anything you need—”
    The whole house at his disposal, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to keep Will here. Will’s hands, usually ceaseless in their movement when he spoke, remained still, the one clasped firmly around the handle of his bag. Calvin wondered if he’d done something wrong. It wasn’t overt. But the wariness was plain, the distance Will was keeping between them tonight.
    “No,” he said, quiet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Will nodded, and then, then there was the hint of a smile. But it looked more like relief than some kind of offering. He tugged the tool belt further up his shoulder and crossed the porch. Calvin watched him thump down the stairs, his form growing vaguer and vaguer the farther he went away from the light.
    Calvin wavered on the porch. His own shadow was already down the steps in Will’s wake, cast long from the light inside. It wouldn’t take much to follow it. But eventually he shook his head. He couldn’t get bogged down here, not with the more pressing issue awaiting him in his work satchel.
    Calvin went into the kitchen and made himself some tea, only to sit at the table not drinking it as the mug steamed and steamed. He got out the grant information he’d gotten up early to print before work, the same grants whose acknowledgments he’d found in the boxes Audrey had left in her closet, and laid it out on the table to read.
    The process wouldn’t be quick, that was sure, and though he had plenty of templates to work with from Audrey’s files, he’d still need to put together an inspiring application in order to win anything. Angus’s arrival had chopped Calvin’s mental timeline in half. He couldn’t believe he’d been so naïve, expecting Pac Western to sit on the situation for the full time allotted by the council. Of course they would leap on any shortcuts.
    Now Calvin had to find a way to stay even. But he was as yet missing the biggest component to receiving a grant: a statement outlining his process for turning the house back into a foster home.
    He had little idea what he was doing, and his brain refused to zero in. He could feel himself shying away from it, and it was so frustrating. He wasn’t the world’s greatest go-getter, but he was no longer the kid he’d been either, turning to avoidance to maneuver through problems. Stepping around holes didn’t negate the danger. A hole remained a hole until you filled it with something.
    Calvin scrubbed a hand over his forehead. “Come on. Just start with step one.” His mother had managed her own business plan for years, and with a crowd of kids who weren’t even hers milling self-centeredly around her feet. Surely he could manage to deal with this.
    His mind, however, wouldn’t stop tracking—money, Will. Money. Will.
    Always, inevitably...Will.
    Footsteps sounded from the direction of the dining room, too rapid to react to, and another packet of papers smacked down on the table in front of him. Calvin grabbed at his own papers to keep them together.
    “You said you weren’t going to sign these!” Danny stabbed a finger at the messy bunch, shoving it all aside. It skidded a foot down the table, Calvin’s paperwork along with it. “Saint Calvin. Figures.”
    “Saint—what?” He craned back, trying to find a foothold. “The hell are you talking about?”
    Danny pointed again at the mess of papers. “We