“In the system’s eyes, yes. Doesn’t mean it’s impossible—you have a lot going for you. Stable income, your own home, familysupport from Grace and Walter, your connection through The Bridge Program. But I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t tell you the reality.” Logan’s voice was matter-of-fact, professional. “Emergency placement is one thing. They’re just looking for safe and willing. But permanent placement, adoption—those have higher bars.”
“I understand,” Roan said quietly.
Logan nodded and moved on to discussing Marcus. “I’ll file the emergency custody paperwork first thing tomorrow morning. Keep him enrolled in school, document everything, maintain your routine with The Bridge Program. Make it clear to DCF that he’s safe and stable with you.”
Logan stood, shaking both their hands. “This is going to be complicated and probably frustrating. But you’re doing the right thing. Both for reporting the abuse and for stepping up for these kids.”
Outside, the snow was falling heavily. Reese and Roan stood in the parking lot, both processing what they’d just heard.
“He could be with you by the end of the week,” Reese said.
“If DCF moves fast. If they believe him. If they place him with me.” Roan looked at her. “That’s a lot of ifs.”
“But it’s possible.”
“Yeah. It’s possible.”
She thought about what Logan had said. Report it tomorrow. Emergency removal. Cody potentially living with Roan by Friday.
“We sure didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into when we agreed to mentorship, did we?” Reese asked.
“No, I certainly didn’t see this coming.”
“But we have to do it, don’t we?” Reese asked. “Even if it means we’re suddenly more than mentors.”
“Are you in because you want to be or because I want it?” Roan asked.
“Those things aren’t opposite. What you want, I want.”
He brushed snow from her cheek. “I want you to marry me. Not for the boys, mind you. But for me.”
“That’s moving pretty fast.” Her heart was also racing pretty fast. He wanted to marry her? She certainly wanted to marry him. She’d always wanted that, but she’d never imagined it could actually happen. Not after all these years of mourning him, of hating him for leaving her.
Cody kissed her. “I want you to know my intentions. I’m not losing you a second time. Not unless you push me away. Otherwise, I’m here.”
“I’m here too.”
They kissed again with the snow falling all around them in the dimming light, and Reese knew then, there was no going back. And she didn’t want to. She was about to jump into a big, complicated situation. With Roan. Her only love.
The week moved with startling speed. Monday morning, Roan made the calls—to DCF, to Cody’s social worker, to Logan to confirm the emergency custody filing for Marcus. Reese had gone to his house early, wanting to be there with him, and had sat at his kitchen table while he reported everything. The assault. The drowning attempt. The pattern of violence. His voice had been steady and factual, but she’d seen his hands shaking when he hung up. “Now we wait,” he’d said.
Tuesday, DCF investigators came to the school. They interviewed both boys separately, photographed Cody’s injuries, documented everything. By afternoon, Cody’s social worker called Roan with the news. Immediate removal from the Patterson home, emergency placement approved. Reese hadgone with Roan to pick Cody up from school. When Cody walked out and Roan said, “You’re coming home with us,” Cody had burst into tears right there in the parking lot.
Wednesday morning brought the call about Marcus. The judge had signed off and emergency temporary custody was granted. Marcus could stay with Roan officially while DCF searched for his mother and worked through the longer-term process. Both boys were home by Wednesday afternoon.
The rest of the week had fallen into a new rhythm. Bridge Program classes continued as normal—CrossFit, dance, the kids getting stronger and more confident. Reese taught them the complete choreography forAll I Want for Christmas Is You, breaking down the moves until they had them memorized. They were surprisingly good, even Cody. She was so proud of all of them.
Evenings, she had gone over to Roan’s house, helping with dinner and homework. She’d never been much of a cook until she took Mia’s class last Christmas season. Now, she made all the Italian dishes she’d learned, beaming when the boys and Roan complimented her.
On Friday afternoon, December 12th, Reese had just finished teaching her last class—eight-year-olds working on their Nutcracker routines. Her phone buzzed with a text.
Roan
Meet us at 5 for the tree lighting? I’m just finishing up with a client but the kids already headed over to get us a good spot.
Reese
Yay. I’ll be there.
