Quinn spent more time at the courthouse than at home.
Every morning seemed to begin with another form.
Another signature.
Another document proving that he was twenty-one years old, employed, housed, and somehow more capable of raising a thirteen-year-old than the man who'd fathered her.
The social worker apologized every time she called.
"I know this is frustrating."
Frustrating wasn't the word.
Terrifying was closer.
Paisley was scheduled to return north to San Francisco in twelve days unless the emergency guardianship hearing went their way.
Twelve days.
Quinn counted them without meaning to.
He tried to make every one matter.
They surfed before sunrise, when the water was still glass and the beaches were nearly empty. They stopped for donuts afterward, powdered sugar collect
