Page 145 of When a Soul Cries

“Goodnight, baby.”

The call ended.

I stayed on the couch for another minute.

Then I stood.

I didn’t go into Sol’s room.

I walked down the hallway and stopped outside the closed door.

No crying.

No movement.

Nothing.

Safe.

I rested my hand against the wall beside the door.

For years, I thought protecting people meant eliminating threats.

Money.

Power.

Being the biggest motherfucker in the room.

Tonight, protecting somebody looked different.

It looked like a locked door.

A full stomach.

Clean clothes.

A sleeping baby.

And a woman finally getting a few hours where she didn’t have to figure out how to survive.

I walked away from the door.

Tomorrow, Sol could decide what came next.

Tonight?

She was safe.

And for the first time since I found her in that parking lot, I let that be enough.

I stared at my phone long after the call ended.

The screen had gone black, but I could still hear my son.

Not what he'd said.

How he'd sounded saying it.