Pushing the bike to its limits, Joey sped down the dual carriageway, the wind and rain whipping at his clothing. In his desperate rush to escape from his mother??s, he??d left his biking jacket behind. Joey welcomed the numbing cold, hoping it would quench the ball of fire which burned in his chest. No matter how long he lived, he knew he??d never be able to expunge the image of his nephew??s face falling with disappointment at Joey not immediately rushing in to reassure him. Tightening his grip on the handlebars, Joey felt his anger turn inwards. How the fuck could he just sit there and watch his nephew sink to the carpet in an agony of disappointment and rejection? He hadn??t reassured Simon, he hadn??t told him that of course he would take him in. What kind of an uncle was he to allow that to happen?