I raised a hand, not turning around. “Just bring it in. We’ll use it for kindling.”
He laughed, the sound trailing off as he and Macon circled back to the house.
I stood there a minute longer, letting the cold bite down. Letting the adrenaline leech away. The yard was empty now, the sky brighter, the threat as distant as the sound of their engines.
I thought about going back inside, but instead I walked to the spot where the man had dropped the envelope. The paper was already soaking up the wet, edges curling, but the name on the front was still visible.
To: Tomás Hooper and Liam James
I bent down, picked it up, and wiped the snow off with the back of my hand. The envelope was thick, probably a dozen pages. I didn’t bother opening it.
Instead, I tucked it into the inside pocket of my jacket and looked back at the house, where Burke was waiting in the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his face, and where I could see, through the kitchen window, the outline of Liam, holding Emilio close, both of them watching the yard with the same worried look.
I raised a hand, palm out, just to let them know it was okay.
Then I went inside, shaking the cold off my boots, and left the morning to finish what it had started.
When I came in, the house was silent except for the tick of the wall clock and the faint, irregular protest of the radiator. The world outside had gone fully white, the windows milked over with frost, but in here, the kitchen was the same as it ever was — light creeping in through the curtains, the faint smell of baby formula, the sense that everything important was contained within four old, battered walls.
Liam was standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing my flannel from the day before. The sleeves were too long, the hem a little ragged, but on him it looked deliberate, like the shirt had been made for that exact purpose. Emilio was propped on hiship, wide awake and chewing at the edge of his own sleeve, his blue eyes doing a slow scan of the room.
Liam’s free hand was splayed across the baby’s back, fingers spread wide enough that it almost covered the whole of him. His face was composed, set in a neutral that could have been either calm or crisis depending on how you read the lines. But I knew that face; it was the one he wore when he’d already done the math, already assembled the contingencies, and was now just waiting for confirmation.
I shut the mudroom door behind me, peeled off my jacket, and hung it up by the loop. The SIG went back in the lockbox without ceremony, the snap of the latch loud in the empty house.
I stood there for a second, letting the last of the cold seep out of me, and then said, “We had visitors.”
Liam didn’t flinch. He just nodded once, and waited.
“Eleanor sent three guys,” I said. “Two cars on the county road, one suit who made it up the drive. They wanted to talk about keeping things ‘amicable.’” I made a face at the word, and Emilio, catching my tone, did his best impression of a sneer. “Rawley and the rest of the crew flushed them back out past the fence. Nobody tried to force it. This time.”
Liam’s jaw set. His thumb moved in slow, hypnotic arcs across Emilio’s back, not fast, just steady, like he was winding a clock.
“The marriage certificate did what it was supposed to,” I went on. “But if I had to guess, we’ll get another round before the week’s up. Maybe with actual law enforcement, maybe with more than just a folder and a bad attitude.”
He absorbed it all, then asked, “You think they’ll come inside next time?”
I thought about it, the way the man in the drive had watched me, the way the sedan’s passenger had held his phone like alifeline. “If they do, they’ll bring numbers. Or they’ll try for a surprise. But we’ll be ready.”
He took this in, then said, “What do you need me to do?”
It was the first time anyone had asked me that question without an agenda or a string attached. Just the pure, clear willingness to be useful, to help.
I looked at him, really looked, and saw not the man who’d run a thousand miles to protect his kid, but the one who was ready to stay and fight for something that finally mattered.
“First thing,” I said, “stay inside with the kid. If Rawley calls, you answer. If there’s any sign of trouble, you lock down and don’t open the door unless you hear my voice.”
He nodded, like he’d already gamed that out.
“Second,” I said, “help me make a list of everything in this house you’d hate to lose, and pack a go-bag for each of us and Emilio. Doesn’t mean we’ll need it, but it’s better to have it ready.”
Another nod.
“Third, and most important,” I said, “keep doing what you’re doing right now.”
He blinked, puzzled. “Which is?”
I gestured at him, at the kid, at the table set for breakfast, the half-empty mug of coffee gone cold on the counter. “This. You keep the house a home. You make sure that when they come, they see what it is they’re fucking with.”
