Page 87 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
Bailey hugs Maeve again, her voice breaking when she whispers, “Call me, okay? Every night.” Maeve nods, her eyes shiny, before slipping into the car.
Eli follows, clumsy with the cast. David doesn’t help him, just waits, tapping his phone like the whole exchange is wasting his time. When Eli stumbles, Sean takes a step forward, but Eli catches himself, ducking his head.
“Watch your step, son,” David says smoothly, his voice carrying just enough for all of us to hear. My gut twists. It’s not advice. It’s a threat.
Bailey stiffens. Wesley mutters something under his breath sharp enough that I know he’s one breath away from exploding. I stay where I am, because if I move, I’ll do worse.
David looks at Bailey last, his smile polished and cruel. “Don’t worry so much. Kids are more durable than adults.” The flicker in his smile rings the threat loud and clear. He pulls away, not a moment too soon.
Bailey presses her fists to her mouth, her shoulders trembling. Sean pulls her close, murmuring low, steady words against her hair. We walk her into the house. Wesley stalks into the ops room, muttering curses, his fists clenching and unclenching.
I stand in the doorway, staring after the car long after it’s gone, my jaw aching from how hard I’ve been clenching it.
David took his kids and smirked at us like none of it mattered. Like he hadn’t hurt them, like he hadn’t tried to break Bailey. Like he could keep doing this song and dance routine until one of his hired hands hits the mark.
The fury in me burns hotter, sharper, until it feels like a second heartbeat. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The house feels hollow after the kids are gone. Breakfast dishes still sit on the counter, coffee cooling in mugs nobody finished, but the noise—the weight of Maeve and Eli filling the rooms—has disappeared. Bailey shuts herself in the kitchen, scrubbing at pans like they insulted her, her shoulders tight, her face turned away from us. Sean keeps close, murmuring low so only she can hear. Wesley stalks from one room to the next, pacing like a caged animal, muttering under his breath.
Me, I plant myself in the ops room and wait. I’ve learned patience the hard way. You don’t push the moment until everyone else is ready to face it.
It doesn’t take long. Sean suggests Bailey take a nap after she finishes cleaning, and she agrees. Then, he joins me in ops. Onlymoments later, Wesley storms back in, slams his hands down on the table hard enough to rattle the equipment. “This is bullshit.”
Sean glances up. “Agreed.”
“I want that smug bastardruined,” Wesley spits. “Standing there, smiling, acting like he owns them. Like he owns Bailey.”
“He doesn’t,” Sean says.
“Not legally. Not morally. But right now, in their heads, he still does. That’s the problem.” Wesley starts pacing again, hands clenched. “We can’t just sit here and wait for him to screw up worse. We should be tearing him down. Expose him. Show the world what he really is.”
Sean shakes his head. “That takes time. Court filings, judges, evidence. It means Bailey testifying, the kids dragged into it. He’ll spin it, make himself the victim. Meanwhile she’s still here, vulnerable, with a target on her back. And she’ll end up where she never wanted to be—with the kids learning what their father did to her.”
“So what?” Wesley snaps. “We just play defense forever? Let him keep hurting them until the system maybe decides to care?”
“Defense keeps them alive and keeps the kids ignorant, which is what she wants.” Sean’s voice sharpens. “It’s not glamorous, but it works.”
I lean back in my chair, watching them circle each other. They’re both right, and both wrong. Defense can’t hold forever. Information won’t cut deep enough, not fast enough. David isn’t just a problem. He’s rot.
And rot spreads.
So I clear my throat. “Or we could just kill him.”
The words hang heavy for a beat. Sean’s head snaps toward me, eyes dark. Wesley freezes mid-pace.
“I’ve said it before, Huck.” Then Sean exhales through his nose. “We don’t do that anymore.”
“This isn’t the Navy,” Wesley echoes, almost automatically. “We’re not deployed. We’re private security now. We operate within the law. No matter how fucking annoying the law is.”
For a moment the room is quiet, the air thick. Then all three of us glance at each other, the weight of the words settling in.
We pause.
I grin. Wide, teeth flashing.
And then we all laugh. Harder than we should. Longer than we should. Because the truth is, none of us believe it’s off the table. Not anymore.
Sean wipes his eyes dry, still chuckling low. Wesley shakes his head, muttering something about how insane we are. I lean forward, my grin still fixed.
