Chapter 1
Declan did not go upstairs first.
He took care of Emmett.
That mattered.
His son was crying so hard his breathing had become shallow and uneven.
Declan crouched in the foyer.
“Buddy. Look at me.”
Emmett did.
“Are you hurt?”
“My arm.”
“Where?”
Emmett pointed to the place where Jocelyn had pushed him through the doorway.
No visible injury beyond redness.
“Anywhere else?”
Emmett shook his head.
“Were you outside all day?”
“No.”
“How long?”
Emmett looked toward Jocelyn.
Declan immediately moved so his body blocked her from view.
“You don’t have to look at anybody else. Just tell me.”
“Since after dinner yesterday.”
Declan froze.
“You slept outside last night?”
Emmett nodded.
Maribel spoke quietly from behind them.
“Part of the night.”
Declan looked up.
Maribel was still holding the garage pillow.
“When I came down at five-thirty this morning, I found him sleeping behind the storage shelves.”
Declan stared at her.
“In the garage?”
“Yes.”
Jocelyn finally snapped.
“This is ridiculous. He went in there himself.”
Emmett began crying harder.
Declan stood.
“Stop talking.”
Jocelyn’s eyes widened.
“Excuse me?”
“Not another word to him.”
She touched the cheek Declan had struck.
“You hit me.”
“Yes.”
“You assaulted your wife.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No denial.
Then he turned to Maribel.
“Call the pediatrician. And the police.”
Jocelyn laughed once.
“You’re calling the police because a spoiled six-year-old spent one night sulking?”
Declan looked at her.
“I’m calling because you physically pushed a child out of his home and locked him outside.”
“I was disciplining him.”
“That sentence is not helping you.”
Maribel made the calls.
Declan lifted Emmett.
Only then did he look toward the staircase.
“Who’s in his room?”
Jocelyn said nothing.
He carried Emmett upstairs.
The bedroom door was closed.
Declan opened it.
A different child was sitting on Emmett’s bed playing a handheld game.
Eight-year-old Noah Hayes.
Jocelyn’s nephew.
Noah looked terrified when everyone appeared.
Declan immediately softened his voice.
“Hey, Noah. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The boy looked toward Jocelyn.
“Aunt Jocelyn said this was my room now.”
Emmett buried his face against Declan’s shoulder.
Declan saw the rest.
Noah’s suitcase in the closet.
New clothes in Emmett’s drawers.
A different comforter.
Several framed pictures of Emmett had been removed from the walls and stacked inside the closet.
His books were gone.
His night-light was gone.
His stuffed animals were gone.
Declan turned toward Maribel.
“Where are his things?”
Maribel looked toward the garage.
Jocelyn interrupted.
“They’re boxed temporarily.”
Declan’s voice dropped.
“Why?”
“My sister needed somewhere safe to stay.”
Jocelyn’s younger sister, Paige, was separating from her husband.
Declan knew that.
He had agreed Paige and Noah could use the guest suite for two weeks.
He had never agreed to give Noah Emmett’s bedroom.
“The guest suite was available.”
“Paige needed privacy.”
“And Emmett needed a bedroom.”
“He has other rooms.”
Emmett whispered:
“She said I don’t deserve one.”
Declan closed his eyes.
Noah started crying.
“I can go.”
Declan immediately looked at him.
“No.”
He crouched while holding Emmett.
“None of this is your fault.”
That distinction mattered.
Noah was another child.
Not an enemy.
Declan asked Maribel to take Noah downstairs to Paige, who had been out buying groceries.
Then he turned to Jocelyn.
“How many nights?”
“What?”
“How many nights has Emmett been sleeping outside or in the garage?”
“I don’t count tantrums.”
Declan almost moved toward her.
He stopped himself.
Good.
Instead he took out his phone.
“Maribel?”
She paused at the doorway.
“How long?”
Her expression changed.
“At least five times that I know.”
Declan stared.
“In how long?”
“Three weeks.”
May you like
That was when a second fact hit him.
Three weeks ago, Jocelyn had begun asking whether they should sell the house.
