He zipped up the bag and tossed it to me. “Take that.”
Then he was moving back out of the door and into the hall, going straight for the door that had been left open a crack.
As if he already knew exactly where they rested. As if he could sense the lulled thrums and magnified dreams of their sweet, sweet hearts.
He softly pushed open the door. Light from the hall spilled into the room.
Thomas instantly stirred, sitting up in bed and rubbing his fists in his eyes. “Mom?” He blinked, trying to focus. “What’s wrong?”
Ian went directly to him and knelt. He set a reassuring hand on his knee.
That might have been the very moment when my heart completely burst.
A million pieces fragmenting.
Scattering.
Spilling.
Seeking a new home.
Finding him.
The moment the man owned every part of me.
Heart and body and soul committed to his hands when I knew full well that he couldn’t hold me. That he couldn’t keep me. That what we were was hopeless except for what we were both fighting for.
But they were worth it.
Every sacrifice and every loss.
Ian’s voice was quieted. “Thomas, I need you to listen to me very carefully. We’re going to pack a few things, and then we’re going to leave. I’m taking all of you to a safer place where I can protect you. I want you to know it’s okay to be afraid, that all of us are sometimes, but I also need you to be brave for your sisters because this is something they can’t understand. Can you help me do that?”
“Are you taking us away from our dad?” Thomas asked, words a muted croak.
Ian didn’t waver. “Yes.”
Thomas slid off his bed and pushed back his shoulders. “All right.”
My chest pressed full, and my throat tightened, and I struggled not to cry.
My spirit was being pummeled by so many things.
By so much love and hope and belief.
All mixed up with a torrent of terrorized fear. The undoubted risk we were taking. The truth that Ian would never show up here in the middle of the night, frantic, if we weren’t in danger.
Compounding it was that I could feel myself already being crushed by the gutting loss that I knew was to come. The gaping hole this man was going to leave at the center of my soul.
Ian pushed to standing and patted Thomas on the shoulder. “Get the things you want to take with you.”
Instantly, Thomas jumped into action. It was no surprise that he grabbed his tablet and charger first and then stuffed a few books and some clothes into the same small suitcase he used when he went to Reed’s.
I quickly packed the necessities for Sophie, diapers and her shampoo and her pajamas, her favorite doll, and then I hurried to get Mallory’s things that she would want most.
Ian was right there at my side, as if he belonged, shuffling through her drawers and stuffing everything he could into her bag.
We did it all quietly. Barely making a sound as we packed side-by-side. Still, a severity rang between us. The low, pulsing toll of an alarm.
“Ready?” Ian asked as he zipped Sophie’s diaper bag.
I could barely nod. “I think so.”
Ian walked over to Mallory.
For a moment, he froze, looking down at my sweet child where she slept face down on her bed, sideways, one leg kicked up and all her blonde hair spilled out in rivulets of golden locks over her bed. He seemed to hesitate, fighting some kind of war, before he released a shaky exhale and scooped her into his arms and hugged her against his strong chest.
Break. Break. Break.
I just kept feeling all those pieces creaking inside me. Coming loose. Getting lost forever. Scattering to the wind.
Mallory sighed in contentment, releasing a tiny yawn as she lifted her head in bewilderment before a massive smile lit on her face. She was whispering in a dreamy voice when she claimed, “Ian-Zian the Great.”
Ian blanched, almost frozen solid as he rigidly held my daughter.
“What are we doing? Are we going on an adventure?” she asked, far too excited.
He cleared the roughness from his throat, but his voice was still raw and low. “Yes, we’re going on an adventure to a special, special place. Is that okay?”
“Yes! I love adventures!”
“Okay,” he said, the word thick as he wrapped his arms tighter around her.
He glanced at me, and I picked a sleeping Sophie up from her crib. She didn’t even stir as I nestled her into my arms.
We all started for the door.
“Wait!” Mallory cried, a frantic whisper as she wiggled down out of Ian’s hold and raced for her bed. She dropped to her knees and pulled the sketchbook out from under it. Holding it against her chest, she went right back for Ian, eager for him to pick her up.
Carefully, he did, and she tucked the bulky book under one arm and snuggled into his arms, her face pressed to his neck.
His eyes dropped closed as his arms cinched tight around her small body, the man so clearly in his own private battle.
Lost in an old war that he had become a prisoner to.
Finally, he turned and walked toward me, mouthing, We need to go.
We ushered Thomas out ahead of us, my big, brave man wheeling both his suitcase and Mallory’s. I was right behind him, Ian towering over us from behind like a wraith that thrashed and whipped.
His darkness a hedge of protection.
We stopped at the end of the hall where my grandmother was still waiting.
“I’m so sorry, Gramma, for all of this,” I rushed.
She moved for me and softly pressed her lips to my cheek before she ran a weathered knuckle down my sleeping baby’s cheek, looking between me and my child. “Don’t you dare apologize, my girl. You are my gift. Now, yours has come.”
Her gaze traveled to Ian.
Overt and unabashed.
“Take care of them,” she told him.
I could feel him shifting uneasily on his feet. “That’s exactly what I intend to do. I think you should come with us.”
She gave a tight shake of her head. “No one is running me out of my house. I’ll be here to let you know if someone shows up sniffing around. Don’t worry about me. I’m a tough old girl. That coward knows it, too. I’m the last person he’s going to mess with.”
“Are you sure, Gramma?” I asked, not knowing if she was better off with us or without us.
“I’m sure,” she promised.
She moved to Thomas and lifted his chin with her finger. “You be a good boy and watch over your sisters, Thomas.”
“I will, Grams.”
“Has anyone told you lately you’re a good, good boy?”
Thomas blushed and kind of huffed. “Only you, Grams, and my mom about a million times.”
“You just keep proving to the world that you are.”
He nodded tightly, and I saw my son’s fear and ferocity.
She turned her attention on me. “Go on then. Call me in the morning and let me know that you’re safe.” She looked back at Ian. “I expect you to keep them that way.”
A flood of energy gushed from Ian. A promise that was felt rather than heard.
We all shuffled out the door and into the chilly night, the wheels of the suitcases zipping on the sidewalk as Thomas hauled them toward the street. Without saying anything, we moved to Ian’s car that was parked at the curb, the headlights still on and cutting through the dense, deep night where it idled.
Clearly ready for a getaway.
Leaving the suitcases at the trunk, Thomas opened the backdoor and climbed in, and Ian sat Mallory next to him.
He barely cast me a glance as he went to my car and removed the car seat that he quickly installed.
He buckled in my children.
Sophie stirred when he took her from me. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly.
Something hard and rigid lining his muscles as he did.
The gentle actions so at odds with the clear violence I could see pushing at his flesh, muscles bound and nerves on edge.
Those demons on his arms screaming.
The cross crying out.
Once the kids were secured, he placed the baggage into the trunk and then we both climbed into the front seats. I looked back through the window as we pulled away. My grandmother stood in the doorway.
Your gift has come.