“Derby?”
Her eyes sharpen. “If Derby knew, you wouldn’t be standing here. You’d be in a fight you might lose because part of you wants to.”
My throat tightens.
I hate her a little for being right.
August makes a sleepy sound from the hallway.
I turn.
He stands in the bedroom doorway wearing dinosaur pajamas, hair wild, Blue Rex tucked under his arm. Janie is behind him with our other bag, her face pale and sad in the low light. She must have woken him gently.
Or maybe children feel leaving before anyone says the word.
“Mama?” August whispers.
I kneel so fast my knees hit the floor.
He comes to me, warm and limp with sleep. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his hair.
“We’re going on a trip,” I whisper.
His body stiffens. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The hardest question.
The simplest word.
I pull back and look at his little face. “Because there is a place where we can be safer for a little while.”
“Derby’s house is safe.”
My heart cracks.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Lottie looks away.
Janie’s eyes fill.
I hold August’s shoulders and tell him the closest thing to truth I can give a five-year-old. “Because sometimes safe needs help.”
He frowns. “Is Derby coming?”
There it is.
The question I knew was coming.
It still hits like a fist.
My mouth opens.