Page 69 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
I kneel in front of the kids. “You’re going with Dad for a little while. Just for now. I’ll get this straightened out.”
Maeve nods once, her eyes fierce. She knows this is bullshit, but she’s trying to be the brave big sister Eli needs. He clings to my neck, sniffling. I tuck Eli’s shirt tag in, kiss them both, and Eli grabs me for another hug. “I promise this will be over before you know it.”
David insinuates himself into our space. “Come on, E, you know big boys don’t cry. Let’s go.” He puts his hand on Eli’s shoulder and tugs him to pull him away.
“Don’t,” I growl at him over my son’s shoulder, finishing our hug. I’ll bite his hand if he tries it again.
Sean squares up to David. “Cops or not, I’ll defend my client against assault, David. You remember the roof, don’t you?”
My ex takes half a step back, smile never wavering. “That sounded like a threat.”
“Just company policy.”
Sean, Huck, and Wesley are big and scary looking, but cops are cops. They have authority here, and we can’t fight that. I wonder what strings David pulled to get them here. The Oswalt name carries a lot of clout, so I can’t say I’m overly surprised, but it’s heavy-handed even for him.
Wesley pokes the bear. “Needed the boys in blue to help you secure two kids? Definitely the move of a confident man. What’s next? The National Guard?”
David glares his direction. “Were you the one who punched a man when he was down, or the one who kicked him?”
Wesley grins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He takes a step forward, and if I didn’t know him, I’d be scared of the look on his face. That is not the smile of an entirely sane person.
He tips his head down a little, lowering his voice so the cops can’t hear him. “But if I did know what you were talking about, I’d remember why you got your ass handed to you on that roof, and why you’re lucky you’re still breathing, and why you haven’t done jack shit about it. If you wanted to press charges, you’d have to admit to what you did, wouldn’t you?”
It’s nice to see David blanch. “Kids, it’s time to go.”
Maeve grumbles, “Come on, Eli. It’ll be okay.” She takes his hand, and he lets her. After that, it all happens so fast. The kids climb into the back seat. Eli waves through the glass. The door shuts. David nods at me, tips an invisible hat, all false civility, then gets in the car. The engine hums, and they’re gone.
The silence is crushing and absolute.
I stand by the gate, staring at the empty space where they were. My arms feel wrong without their weight. Sean’s hand settles lightly at my back. Huck is a tense wall beside me, Wesley silent.
“We’ll fight it,” Sean says.
I nod, swallowing hard. “I know.” It’s the only thought holding me together.
We turn back toward the house. Inside, the living room is frozen in time. Pillows tossed from our dancing. Eli’s sock abandoned by the couch. The joy from minutes ago hangs in the air like mockery.
22
SEAN
Bailey barely touches her dinner.The plate sits in front of her, vegetables going cold, grilled chicken untouched, the fork lying beside it like she’s forgotten what it’s for. She keeps pressing the heel of her hand against her temple as though she can physically hold herself together if she presses hard enough.
Jessica offered to stick around for when the kids get back, but Bailey sent her home, giving her paid vacation time in the interim. “You deserve a break from all of this too,” she said.
I wish Bailey could have a break.
Now she’s on the phone, her voice brittle but steady, speaking to her lawyer about custody hearings, about restraining orders, about court dates that take weeks when we need minutes. The kids’ passports are tucked into a manila envelope on the counter—she showed them to me when I asked, like proof she wasn’t careless—but passports aren’t the problem.
David doesn’t play by the rules. If he wants forged documents, he’ll get them. And once he has them, he could be on a plane out of LAX before any of us know what happened.
I pace the kitchen like a caged animal, the frustration in me mounting. I’ve led teams into combat zones with less stress than this. Bailey doesn’t eat, doesn’t even blink as she listens to her lawyer on the other end, nodding, muttering, “I understand. Yes. File it as soon as possible.”
She doesn’t see me staring. Doesn’t see how furious I am.
I can’t sit in this house and stew while she wastes away and David tightens his grip. I need to move. To act. To do something other than watch her crumble.
Huck and Wesley are in the den, murmuring over a security feed when I come in. They look up, both of them alert the second I enter. Wesley straightens, his hand lingering on the table like he can already sense what’s coming.
