He nods with all the confidence of a boy who hasn’t had to understand adult danger in the last five minutes. “If Derby gets cereal.”
Derby looks at me. “He drives a hard bargain.”
“He’s five.”
“He’s ruthless.”
Sophie steps closer to me. “No one is forcing this. If you say no, we find another option. But I need you to understand the clubhouse will only get harder for August the longer he stays here. Men come and go at all hours. Business happens downstairs. There are guns, fights, drunk brothers, club girls, and conversations he doesn’t need to hear. Last night was survival. Today, we protect his peace too.”
Protect his peace.
Not only his body.
His peace.
That gets me.
I look at August with egg on his chin and his dinosaur tucked beside his plate. He is smiling faintly at Derby, waiting for him to say something rude or funny. He’s not watching thedoor right this second. He’s not asking where Jeremy is. He’s not crying.
I want more of that.
I want more than locked doors and not being hit.
That feels greedy.
Maybe it’s not.
I look at Derby. “Would we really be safer there?”
His answer comes without hesitation. “Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Jeremy could still find us.”
“He could try.”
The way he says it should scare me.
It does.
It also steadies me.
I hate that those two things can live in the same place.
“And you would stay there?” I ask.
“It’s my house.”
“I mean with us.”
He studies me. “Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Couch.”