Page 90 of Beyond Protection
I reached over and took Eamon's hand. He stared at our fingers.
"We cut rehearsal short," I said quietly. "That's what we do. She thinks she's testing us and learning our patterns. Fine. We'll change the script."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But we don't let her set the timeline. We don't wait for her move."
Eamon's thumb moved against my knuckles. Small. "That's not how protection works—"
"I'm not talking about protection." I squeezed his hand. "I'm talking about taking back agency. Right now she's driving. That needs to end."
Michael met my eyes in the mirror.
"We'll talk to the police tonight," he said. "File everything. Get it on record. Tomorrow we plan."
"Agreed." Matthew said, "I'm tired of being hunted."
"We're all tired." Miles opened his eyes. "But tired people make mistakes. We go home and rest. Tomorrow we plan."
Ma's humming had stopped. "When we get home, I'm making tea. Real tea. And we're sitting in my kitchen until everyone's blood pressure drops below stroke level."
We turned onto Ma's street. The house sat halfway down—porch light on, Christmas lights blinking.
Michael pulled into the driveway. Cut the engine.
No one moved.
Then Ma opened her door. "Come on. The rain's only getting heavier."
The family spilled out—coats pulled tight, heads ducked, moving fast toward the porch.
I stayed by the car.
Eamon stayed with me.
Rain soaked through my jacket in seconds. Hair plastered to my skull. Water ran down my neck.
"You should go in," Eamon said.
"So should you."
"I need a minute."
"Then I'm staying."
He looked at me. Rain had darkened his hair to burnt copper. His eyes reflected the porch light. He looked exhausted. Haunted. Human.
"I can't lose you." His voice cracked. "If she gets to you because I missed something—"
"Stop."
"Mac—"
"You're not alone in this." I moved closer. Rain ran off my jacket onto his. "She doesn't get to take you from me by making you so afraid of failing that you won't let yourself be human."
His breath came out shaky. "I don't know how to do this. Keep you safe and want you this much. They contradict each other."
"Maybe they do." I reached up. Palm against his jaw. His beard was soaked, cold. "Maybe you just do them both anyway."
