Finally, drying Amelia’s face and offering her the same clothes she wore weeks ago to sleep in, I tuck her into bed. She still hiccups, but exhaustion eventually settles over her while she clutches her blue bear.
Stepping into the hallway, I pause when I see Cort standing outside Hudson’s door.
“How is Atticus?”
“Shaken and scared. Pissed, too.” Cort bitterly chuffs, leaning against the wall. “Kid’s got a mouth, and I know where he gets it.” He lowers his gaze and purses his lips. “I’ve got to call the sheriff.”
“I know.”
Cort nods and steps toward the staircase.
“I just need a minute,” I state, pointing toward Hudson’s room.
“Of course.” Cort descends the stairs while I open Hudson’s door.
Once inside his bedroom, I approach Hudson’s twin bed. He’s rolled toward the wall, and I don’t want to disturb him. Ijust need to see him, check on him. When I swipe my hand over his hair, he rolls to face me.
“Hey, bud. How are you doin’?”
I lower to the edge of his bed as he sits upright and flings his arms around me. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay, buddy.” I hold him tightly. “You did the right thing by calling me.”
“His dad just came out of nowhere, screaming at us to turn down the video game. It wasn’t even that loud. Atticus told him to go to bed, and his dad picked up a baseball and flung it at his head. It happened so fast.”
Hudson holds onto me harder.
“It’s okay now, baby.” I stroke the back of his head. “You’re home now, okay? Coach is going to call the sheriff, and I’ll talk to Uncle Stone.”
Hudson pulls back. “Will their dad go to jail?”
Sadly, I don’t think so. There probably won’t be any repercussion other than a harsh warning and a strong suggestion to seek counseling. For now, Atticus and Amelia are safe. Only for tonight.
“No, bud.” At least, not yet.
Hudson nods and folds down to his pillow.
“Try to get some rest.” I run my hand along his face and cup his cheeks. “I love you. You did the right thing tonight by calling me. I’m always here for you, Hudson. Always.”
He shouldn’t need the reminder, but I tell him anyway. I’ll never be like the Henrys of the world. Or the Baileys. I’ll never be like my father either.
After pressing a kiss to his forehead, I stand and step over to the other bed. Glancing down at Atticus, my original dislike of the kid is now peppered with guilt. He’s who he isbecauseof his father. Lying there, he looks so innocent, and I reach down and brush back his hair as well, hoping I won’t disturb him whilepraying for protection over him and his sister. Their road is not going to be easy.
Exiting Hudson’s room, I silently close the door and head down the stairs. Cort sits at the kitchen island, holding his phone. Coffee brews in the machine.
I’m wired while exhausted, and the last thing I need is a cup of coffee. I’m already jittery.
“What did the sheriff’s department say?”
“They’ll investigate. Send a mediator to interview the kids. Send someone to talk to Henry. I told Andy the kids are here.”
I nod. Andy Whitehall works with Stone, but I’m not a fan of him. He can hold a grudge, and he’s done so against Sebastian and his past, even though everyone else in the community forgives Sebastian for his transgressions.
Cort shifts on the island stool and holds out his arm. I step into his embrace, wedging between his legs while wrapping my arms around his neck.
“How are you doing?”
I blow out a deep breath. “Tired.” I chuckle sorrowfully before pulling back from his much-needed hug. “And kind of feeling like our night was ruined.” Only an hour or so ago, Cort was in my bed.
