For my kids.
For them.
Which meant I finally had to go to the police. I had to file a report and give them all the things I had to start building a case against the father of my kids. It would be hard, and people would doubt my word, and second-guess my integrity and my character, and I’d have to convince them I was a good mom before they ever treated me fairly.
It was all the things that kept me from going to the police any of the other times Danny abused me when we were together. Orany of the times after I finally left when I felt like the walls were closing in around me because of his little games.
But I had too much to lose to just be complacent in his abuse any longer.
The rink bar was buzzing the way it always did on a Wednesday night, beer league guys swapping chirps, locals hooting and hollering at the TVs as hockey played out across the country. Rick poured drafts, living his best life as I wiped down the bar top, ready to start kicking people out so I could go home.
Home.
The serenity I found in the beautiful cabin in the woods, tucked into bed between Travis and Eli, with my kids tucked into their beds upstairs, happy and safe.
Safe.
Even thinking the word left anxiety crawling across my skin.
Trav and Eli were sitting at the bar with their friends, pretending to stick around to watch the game, instead of heading home like they usually did after practice. When in reality, they were waiting for me.
Watching me.
Waiting for me to crumble.
So they could catch me.
I was so distracted by my own thoughts that it took a second to notice that something had happened around me, the noise in the bar cut out like someone hit the off switch on a speaker. Glancing up from the bar, I watched as everyone in the place turned and looked toward the front door, at the newcomers standing there looking over everyone.
A man and woman, wearing dress clothes and matching jackets with some sort of badge on the breast pocket I couldn’t make out from across the room. Each of them had file folders in their hands, as if they were ready to conduct some sort of official business.
Clearly, they had the wrong place if they were looking for something official. There wasn’t an official in the place. Or at least that was what I had thought until three uniformed police officers walked in behind them. Two I recognized as locals, the third was the chief of police himself.
Shit.
Something was wrong.
My skin prickled as I wiped my hands on a rag as the chief pointed toward the bar and the two officials headed our way.
My way.
“Franchesca Blake?” The woman asked, voice echoing too loud in the silence.
Every eye in the place swung toward me, and my stomach dropped.
They were close enough now that I dared to glance at the emblem on their jackets.
The badge.
The title.
Department of Children and Families.
“Right here.” Rick said, stepping up beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder in solidarity as I fought to speak like I had suddenly forgotten how.
The man didn’t even flinch as he pulled a thick envelope out of the folder and laid it on the bar in front of me. “My name is Agent Andrews, of the Department of Children and Families. You’ve been named in a petition, and we’re here to conduct a full investigation into the criminal charges claimed against you.”
The air left my lungs as Rick tightened his hold on my shoulders. “For what?” I whispered.
