The road stretches ahead of us, leading to home, to the safety we've created. But even as we drive away from the mall, I know our peace is temporary. Harris won't stop. Men like him never do.
But neither will we.
chapter nine
Morgan
I watch the rearview mirror as Matthew's eyes scan the road behind us, his posture rigid with alertness. In the back seat beside me, Charlie's excited chatter has gradually softened to drowsy mumbles, her new unicorn clutched tightly against her chest. The shopping bags rustle with each turn, filled with clothes, toys, and the normalcy we're fighting to give her.
"Looks like we're clear," Matthew says, his voice low enough that only Trenton and I can hear.
Trenton nods, his hands loosening their white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel just slightly. "Still need to be careful when we get home."
I turn in my seat to check on Charlie and find her eyes heavy-lidded, her head tilted against the window. The morning's excitement has finally caught up with her small body.
"She's asleep," I whisper.
The drive home feels both longer and shorter with Charlie sleeping in the back with me. I find myself checking on her every few minutes, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers still clutch the unicorn's hoofed foot even in slumber.
When we pull into our driveway, I hesitate before waking her. She looks so peaceful, the worry lines that have been a constant presence on her small face finally smoothed away.
"Let her sleep," Matthew suggests, reading my thoughts. "I'll carry her in."
We've barely unbuckled our seat belts when a small whimper breaks the silence. I turn to find Charlie stirring, her eyes fluttering open with confusion and fear.
"No, no, please," she mumbles, still half in her dream. Her small body tenses, arms reaching out blindly.
"Charlie, it's okay. You're safe," I say, but she doesn't seem to hear me.
Then her eyes focus, finding Trenton as he opens her door. "Mr. Trent," she whispers, her voice thick with sleep and fear. Her arms stretch toward him, fingers reaching. "Please. Carry me."
My chest tightens at the vulnerability in her voice. Trenton doesn't hesitate. He leans in, his large frame suddenly gentle as he carefully gathers her small body against his chest.
"I've got you, kiddo," he murmurs, one hand supporting her back while the other tucks the unicorn safely against her.
Charlie's arms wrap around his neck, her face burying against his shoulder. The trust in that gesture makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.
"Let's get her inside," I say, grabbing the shopping bags while Matthew collects our purchases from the trunk.
Trenton carries Charlie up the walkway, his steps measured and careful, as if she's made of glass. I unlock the door, holding it open as he passes through. Charlie hasn't moved, still clinging to him with the desperate trust of a child who has known too little safety.
"Should we put her to bed?" I whisper.
Before Trenton can answer, Charlie lifts her head slightly. "No," she murmurs, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Can I stay with you? Just for a while?"
Trenton's eyes meet mine over her head. The request is so simple, yet so weighted with meaning. This child, who has known only cruelty and fear, is asking for the comfort of our presence.
"Of course," I say, moving ahead to clear a space on the living room couch.
Trenton settles onto the sofa, Charlie still held securely in his lap. I sit beside them, my hand finding its way to Charlie's back, tracing small circles between her shoulder blades. Matthew joins us, positioning himself on my other side, completing our protective triangle.
"I had a bad dream," Charlie confesses quietly. "Daddy was there, and he was mad at me. Said I was bad for wanting to stay with you."
My heart breaks for her. "You're not bad, Charlie. You've never been bad."
"Your dad is sick," Matthew adds gently. "He doesn't understand what's best for you."
Charlie nods slowly against Trenton's chest. "You won't let him take me back, will you?"
