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seeing him here, in the last place in the world any father, stepfather, or uncle wanted to see his kid, made something snap inside him, and he cuffed the boy. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it was firm enough to get Ran's attention.
    He had a flash of his stepfather doing the same thing to him. Up until the joy-riding incident, Oscar had been living in Zane and Sage's house, married to their mom—a polite, unobtrusive stranger, always there to bail his stepson out of any scrapes he got into, which to that point had been relatively minor in scope and severity if not frequency.
    Zane's mom, one of the early proponents of Tough Love childrearing, had wanted Oscar to leave him in police custody overnight, teach him a lesson, but he hadn't wanted the whole criminal system, lock-up experience on Zane's psyche or record any more than was already the case.
    He’d settled instead for that firm cuff upside the head to show his disappointment and displeasure when he picked up him from the precinct.
    After that incident, his stepfather had ceased being the specter in the shadows that Sage and Zane’s mother had married, but instead their father and a man deserving all the affection, attention and respect that came with the title.

    Between Darkness and Daylight
    31
    Zane wondered if he could achieve this kind of transformation in Ransom’s eyes, mimicking the same simple cuff upside the head that his stepfather had delivered on him.
    Did he really think he could he reverse all the bad things that had happened to his nephew, change the relationship they shared with just one swat?
    Ran sat up straight in his chair now, gawking as Zane took the seat adjacent.
    "Do you have anything to say for yourself? Anything at all that I want to hear?"
    "Uncle Zane, I—"
    "What were you thinking, Ran?"
    "I didn't—"
    "That's the problem. You didn't. You never do."
    "But Uncle Z—"
    "I don't want to hear it. Not another word."
    "But you haven't heard anything yet. You haven't even let me finish a sentence."
    "What could you possibly say in defense of yourself? In defense of your actions?"
    "Fine. You've already made up your mind."
    "Ran…" Zane sighed, ran a palm down his face as if he could wipe away the panic and tension he’d gone through in the two hours since the police had called him at school.
    "I haven't made up my mind. I'm trying to get your side."
    He saw them then, tears welling in his nephew's eyes. Saw the boy's refusal to let them fall—not here, not in front of Uncle Zane the unsympathetic—no way.
    When Ransom spoke, it was in a shaky voice that made Zane's heart constrict.
    "It was an accident."
    "An accident?"
    "I didn't mean—"
    "To mug her? To hurt her?"
    Ran flinched, as if he realized what this was doing to his uncle.
    "I didn't mean to hurt her."

    32
    Gracie C. McKeever
    "What you meant to do and what you did do are two different things, aren't they?"
    "Look, I took up a dare from some friends. It was a stupid challenge to swipe a lady's bag, and then I’d be part of the crew. It's not my fault she fought back."
    Zane frowned. "Poor you, nothing's your fault. Is that it?"
    "I knew you wouldn't understand."
    "Ransom, I'm trying to." Had peer pressure been this fierce when he was a teenager? The memory of his joy-riding incident stopped the thought cold.
    "I wish my mom was here," Ransom blurted.
    "You're not the only one who’s lost someone, Ran." He had lost a wife and a twin sister right behind her. But he didn't have the time or luxury to mope around about either, wasn't sure if it was in him to do so. What he wouldn't have done to have the older, wiser ear of his stepfather now. It proved to the fullest that one didn't miss a good thing until it was gone.
    "My mother would have understood."
    "Probably, but I doubt you would have done anything like this if she were still alive."
    "You're right, I probably wouldn't have."
    Zane paused, thought he heard accusation in the tone. The kid wielded a sarcastic tongue