I knew.
I told myself.
I was overreacting.
By evening, Travis was in custody, and an emergency protection order was being processed.
I took Noah home with me.
Lena did not argue.
She asked if she could kiss his forehead before we left.
I looked at Noah.
He nodded.
She bent down and kissed him so carefully it looked like she was afraid even love might hurt him.
“I’m going to fix this,” she whispered.
Noah did not answer.
That broke her more than anger would have.
At my house, Derek carried Noah inside because my son had finally fallen asleep in the car.
The porch light was on.
The neighborhood was quiet.
Inside, Derek set him on the couch while I found the soft blanket with the faded rockets on it.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Derek went into the kitchen and came back with two glasses of water.
