Free Overdrive by Dawn Ius

his neck, causing his biceps to inadvertently flex. His muscles tighten and he acts all tough, but there’s a hint of resignation in his sigh. “I could probably come up with a few things.”
    He glances my way for confirmation, but I’m tongue-tied with indecision. I can’t believe we’re even considering this.
    â€œI’m obviously in the wrong room.”
    My head snaps to the bedroom door at the sound of Emma’s voice. My guts twist. I scramble to my feet. “You’re supposed to be asleep. Are we too loud?”
    She groans. “Definitely not. It’s too quiet here.”
    â€œI know exactly what you mean,” Chelsea says.
    Doubtful. Emma is used to drifting off to the sounds of screaming, bickering, and the constant drone of police sirens.
    â€œMusic?” Mat says.
    â€œI don’t have any songs on my iPod yet,” Emma says.
    Nick holds up a finger. “Hang tight.”
    Seconds later, he returns with an iPod and a set of new headphones. He hands them to Emma with a sheepish grin. “Can’t guarantee there’s anything you’ll like on there, but it will cut the silence.”
    My stomach flips. “Uh . . .”
    â€œNo worries, Jules,” he says, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “It’s all age appropriate.”
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    Actually, it’s jazz.
    I pull out the earbud and hand it to Ems. She snuggles into the blankets and pulls a stuffed bear close to her chest. “Happy, Mommy?”
    Embarrassed, I duck my head. “It’s my job to check for curses and stuff.”
    It shouldn’t be, but it’s the role I’ve held for the past four years, and I take it seriously.
    â€œYou think I’ve never heard swearing before?”
    Of course she has—and not just from our parents and foster parents and probably even me. That doesn’t make it right. We’re supposed to be taking steps forward, but so far, being at Roger’s is like jumping into a time machine. Backward.
    She plugs in one earbud and hands me the other. “Listen.”
    I shift closer. A soulful saxophone solo cuts through the melody of piano and trombone while a sultry female sings about a boy. Her voice tugs on my heartstrings. It’s not at all what I’d expect from Nick, but I guess even he can surprise me.
    Music soothes the savage beast.
    â€œBet you could do a solo to this,” Ems whispers.
    I yank out the earbud. “I’m done with ballet.”
    Her expression softens. “I meant for me.”
    The longing in her voice tears me up inside. Without Roger’s help—his money—I can’t afford to send her to dance lessons. “So much pressure,” I murmur, thinking back to aching muscles and swollen feet.
    â€œYou did it.”
    â€œI quit.”
    Emma sighs. “Because you had to. I know you loved it.”
    Loved. Past tense. Dance is tainted now, part of the past I’m desperate to forget. Uncomfortable with the way the mood’s shifted, I try to lighten things up. “You don’t want to copy me, anyway.”
    â€œI want to be you.”
    Tears spring to my eyes and I swat them away with enough force to cause a bruise. Jesus. I’m an emotional basket case. “Tell me you like it here.”
    She scrunches up her nose. “I already told you I did. You’re not planning something, are you? Because it kind of looked like you guys were planning something.”
    There’s a hint of panic in her tone, a sign I should back off. But I’m about to make one of the biggest decisions of my life. I need to be sure before I cross that line. “Are you sure Roger doesn’t scare you?”
    Mischief dances in the hazel flecks of her eyes. “Come to think of it, that vest is kind of terrifying.” She shakes her head. “I’m kidding. He’s a bit . . . awkward,