Page 75 of Tanner

Savannah’s mouth turned down. “Miles coming?”

“No.” Tanner fixed a smile on his face.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s just us.”

Savannah considered that, then asked, “Mrs. Hemsworth know?”

Tanner stood. “Go get your shoes.”

She didn’t move. “Tanny?”

“Savannah.”

The sharper tone did it. Her eyes widened and she turned toward the hall without another word. Tanner pressed both hands flat on the counter and lowered his head. He could call someone. Cody. Orsen. Mrs. Hemsworth. Miles. Miles was the only name that made him hesitate.

The thought of Miles talking him out of leaving made his breath catch. Part of him wanted that and that scared him. Miles would tell him to slow down. To breathe. To read the letter again. To let him come over and help him think. To trust the process.

Tanner couldn’t trust the process. The process was how things got taken from you while everybody said it was just procedure.

He straightened and grabbed the envelope of documents. IDs, copies, birth certificates, anything he’d managed to keep. He checked the cash tin. Not enough, but it didn’t matter. He took it anyway.

Savannah came back carrying one shoe in each hand.

Tanner took them from her. “Come here.”

She climbed up onto the chair, and he crouched in front of her as he rested a foot on his leg. He got her shoe on and tied it then swapped to the other on.

“You mad at me?” she asked softly.

“No.” He kept his eyes on the laces because he didn’t trust his face. “No, baby.”

“Then why your face does that?”

He tied the second shoe and let his hand rest for a second on her ankle. “It’s just a lot today.”

She didn’t understand and he knew she didn’t. She picked up the rabbit from where he’d dropped it and hugged it to her chest.

He stood and did one last scan of the kitchen. Phone. Wallet. Bags. Letter.

He stared at the letter.

Leaving with nothing on the counter felt wrong. Not because he owed anyone an explanation but because vanishing without a word would set off alarms too fast. Mrs. Hemsworth would notice by nightfall. Miles—

No. He couldn’t think about that now.

He found a pen in the drawer by the fridge and dragged an envelope from the stack of unopened post. His hand hovered for a second.

I can’t lose her. I’m sorry.

He read it then tucked it under the CPS letter where it would be seen and then he picked up the bags, lifted Savannah onto his hip, and walked to the front door.

She was warm and familiar and heavy enough now that holding her with one arm made the muscles in his shoulder tighten. He unlocked the door, stepped outside, and locked it again behind him on instinct.

The street looked normal.

That always made leaving harder somehow. Just evening light slanting across the road and somebody’s dog barking two houses over and Mrs. Hemsworth’s curtains open across the street.