âJosh?
The apartment is eerily quiet.
âRae? Caro?â
Amelia had a last-minute emergency come up so she couldnât be here today for the evening shift. Iâd called Ben while I was at work and begged him to take care of the kids. Sober. I stressed on that stipulation until he told me to âstop fucking nagging.â
Once he agreed, I spent the remaining two hours of my workday sweating through my green blouse.
I hate leaving Ben alone with the kids. But some days, itâs unavoidable.
âGuys?â
The moment I hear the pitter-patter of little feet, I breathe a sigh of relief. Then Caroline and Reagan round the corner at Mach 10, slamming into me like blond bullets. Their giggles are strangely muted, though, and when Reagan lets out a panicked little squeal when I try to tickle her under the arms, Caroline slaps a finger over her mouth and stares at her sister with wide, reproachful eyes.
I plop down on the arm of the sofa. âGuys, whatâs wrong? Why are you being so quiet?â
ââCause Daddyâs sweeping,â Reagan whispers in her baby voice.
âSleeping,â Caroline corrects haughtily. âDaddyâs sleeping and he told us that if we made any noise, heâd drag us into his room by our ears and beat our butts until they were black and blue.â
Reagan looks at me with her bottom lip sticking out. âI donât want my bottom to be black and blue, Auntie Em!â
âHe really said that to you?â
Both girls nod in unison. My lip curls up into a furious sneer. Iâd like to beat their father until heâs black and blue.
âWhereâs Josh?â I say instead in as controlled a tone as I can muster.
âHeâs making dinner. Weâre having pasta with cut-up sausages!â Reagan whoops. That earns her another glare from Caroline. Then the girls scurry into the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow them.
I find Josh at the stove, prepping the pasta. âJosh?â I ask as we approach. âYou okay?â
The way his shoulders stiffen and the fact that it takes him a moment to turn around tells me that heâs very far from okay.
âGirls, why donât you go wash up and get ready for dinner?â I suggest. The moment theyâre gone, I walk over to Josh. âWhat happened?â
Heâs not meeting my eye. He just keeps stirring the pasta unnecessarily. I clamp a hand down on his wrist, forcing him to stop.
âJosh, honey, talk to me.â
âNothing happened. Itâs just the same old shit as always.â As soon as the uncharacteristic curse flies out of his mouth, he flinches and his cheeks flood with red shame. âI-Iâm sorryâ¦â
As his face crumples, I grab him and pull him to me. âHey, itâs okay. Itâs okay, little man.â I keep whispering softly to him. âEverythingâs gonna be alright.â
He pushes back a little and frowns at me. âDo you really believe that?â
I take a deep breath and gesture for him to join me at the table. âI know things have been bad lately. Your dadâs just⦠in a dark place. Heâs lost right now, but he does love you guys.â
Joshâs nose gets red, a sure fire sign that heâs fighting tears. âNo, he doesnât,â he snaps flatly. âIf he really loved us, he wouldnât threaten to beat us over every little thing.â
My jaw clenches. I could kill that asshole right now.
âI could take him, you know. If he tried.â
I stare at my eight-year-old nephew. His eyes are thin slits, his nostrils flared, his fists clenched and trembling at his sides. He looks like heâs ready for a fight.
âJoshââ
âRuslanâs been teaching me what to do. I could protect the girls from him. I could protect you, too.â
I put my hands down on his quivering shoulders. âSweetheart, I appreciate that; I do. But itâs not your job to protect me or the girls. Itâs my job to protect you. Listenââ
Before I can finish my sentence, the girls rush into the kitchen, whisper-shouting that theyâre hungry. Sighing, I stand and go to get them situated.
I fill their bowls with pasta before slipping out of the kitchen under the pretense of changing out of my work clothes. On the way, I detour into Benâs room and find him lying face down on his bed, drool forming a dark stain around his mouth.
Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I grab a pillow that heâs kicked to the floor and whack him with it. He doesnât so much as flinch, so I keep at it until he stirs.
He snorts awake all at once, his eyes flickering open. He nearly chokes on his own saliva as he struggles to right himself.
âJesus,â I mutter. As always, he reeks of booze and bad decisions.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â I growl through gritted teeth. âThose children out there need you.â
His eyes focus on me and he frowns. âSiennaâ¦â
I freeze. Is this a joke? If so, itâs crueler than I thought even he was capable of.
He blinks a couple of times and then lets out a loud burp that has me cringing a few steps backward. Judging from his breath and the way his eyes flicker erratically, heâs still wasted.
âSiâ¦â
Heâs screwing with me. This is some sick prank.
But Ben has never been that good an actor. Heâs got this longing, desperate look on his face. His bloodshot eyes swing wildly over my body as he stumbles closer to me.
âSi⦠Iâm so fucking sorry⦠I forgot your b-birthdayâ¦â
âBen,â I say firmly. âItâs me. Emma. Iâm not Sienna.â
He frowns, hiccupping as he reaches for me. âIâve missed you so much, babyâ¦â
He tries to touch me but I recoil from him. âBen! Iâm Emma. Snap out of it. Are you so far gone that you canât even tellâ?â
I gasp when he grabs my arm and reels me against him. For a guy whoâs half-asleep and half-drunk, heâs got a surprisingly firm grip.
âBen! Stop!â
Iâm vaguely aware of the door swinging in on its hinges but Iâm too worried about Benâs wandering hands to pay much attention to it. At least not until Ben grunts with pain, his back arching. He stumbles to the side to reveal Josh standing there, his hands balled into fists.
Did Josh just punch his father?
âFucking hell, you little bastard!â Ben hisses as he wakes up from whatever intoxicated hallucination he was caught in.
âYou get the hell away from her!â Josh orders, glaring at his father with a fury that belongs on a much older man.
Ben shakes his head from side to side in stupefied disbelief. âYou little shit! Did you just hit me?â
âYou were scaring Aunt Emma!â
Benâs eyes veer to me for only a second before they fall back on Josh. Heâs wearing a venomous glare that doesnât deserve to be aimed at any eight-year-old, let alone your own son. âI donât care what the fuck I did; itâs not your place toââ
I step right between him and Josh. âBen, stop it. Youâre out of control. You haveââ
He shoves me roughly out of the way and lunges at Josh. I trip and fall to the side, aware of Josh racing out the door from my peripheral vision. Ben chases after him and, for the first time since that orange pickup truck changed everything, Iâm actually scared of what Ben is capable of.
I hit hard, cracking my head against the wood floor, but Iâm back on my feet again as fast as I can manage it. I rush into the living room where Ben is circling the couch, trying to claw at Josh.
âBen! Have you completely lost your mind? Heâs a child! Heâs your son!â
âExactly!â he yells. âMy fucking son. And heâs got to learn respect!â
Startled, the girls scream. I catch their terrified little faces peeking out from around the kitchen, pale as ghosts.
âBen, I will call the police!â I yell right back.
He turns on me, hair mussed, eyes wild. Iâve never seen him look so unhinged. But despite that, all I feel is relief. At least his attention is on me now, not Josh. Let him beat me black and blue. As long as the kids are okay.
âWhat the fuck did you say?â he growls.
I square my shoulders. âYou heard me. I will call the damn cops if you donât settle down right now. Youâre scaring the kids!â
He takes a menacing lurch towards me and thatâs when I notice Josh dart out from behind the couch. I only have the time to gasp before his little fist connects with Benâs ribs for the second time in as many minutes.
âFuck!â Ben roars. âWhat theââ He whirls around, hand raised and before I can stop him, he grabs Josh by the front of his t-shirt.
âBEN! STOP!â
Carolineâs small voice cuts through the heat of my panic. âD-daddy! Please donâtâ¦â
Ben acts as though he canât hear any of us. He flings Josh against the coffee table. Itâs not a violent throw, but Joshâs too-thin little body makes a dull thwacking sound as he careens into the furniture. He grunts low with pain and even that heartbreaking sound doesnât seem to snap Ben out of his fugue state.
âYou bastard!â I scream at his back while he storms out the door and slams it on his childrenâs tears.
I rush to Josh and pick him up off the floor. Itâs not until I have him in my arms that I realize heâs not the one thatâs shaking.
I am.
âJosh,â I gasp, cradling him like I used to when he was a toddler. âIâm so sorry. Iâm so sorry.â He clings to me, his chest heaving with silent sobs. All I can do is hold him. âItâs okay. Go ahead and cry. You deserve to cry as loud as you want for as long as you want.â
âJ-Joshieâ¦?â
I look up to find Caroline and Reagan still hiding behind the kitchen wall, tears streaking down their cheeks. I gesture for them to come over and they run to me, their heat engulfing me from both sides as we all huddle together.
âItâs okay,â I whisper. âWeâre gonna be okay, I promise. Iâm gonna make sure weâre all okayâ¦â
I thought having Ben around was important for the kids. I thought it was necessary. Despite all his shortcomings, I didnât want them to lose their only living parent. But after tonight, I have to face the fact that having him around is doing them more harm than good. Maybe weâre all better off without him.
Which leaves me with only one path forward and, of course, it wonât be easy. My heart beats wildly, even as my resolve hardens.
From now on, I have to be their mother and their father.
I have to strip Ben of his parental rights.
I have to adopt these kids.
Once thatâs sunk in, I hold onto the kids just as tightly as theyâre holding onto me. And thenâ
I let myself cry, too.