"I thought you meant like foster care," Tyson responded, looking displeased, "That's what 'charge' usually means to me. And no, he hasn't."
"Fall," Ty repeated flatly, "And by that you mean... die?"
Unless Bridgette had gotten a whole lot better at it in the space of a weekend, Tyson knew that she wasn't lying. He went very still, staring at her for a long moment as the full weight of that crashed down on him. When he did move, he whirled around, kicking a locker violently, the steel toe of his boot denting the metal. Angel was probably pregnant with Miles' kid, and if Ty left Miles would die!?
He let out a stream of frustrated Spanish expletives, "Oh man, this whole situation is so fucked up."