Lila clutched her bunny tighter. “I like it better when you make pancakes,” she whispered.
I smiled, though it hurt. “Tomorrow, chocolate chip?”
She nodded and crawled into my lap.
That night, I stood in the doorway of their rooms longer than I needed to. Just watching them breathe.
I didn’t call child services.
Jenny was right — I’m not like that.
But I also wasn’t about to let those kids get hurt again. I never signed up for this. I buried my wife. I built a quiet life after. And now, somehow, I’ve ended up with bedtime stories and tiny socks in my laundry.
But you know what?
That quiet life was never full. Not like this.
I don’t know what the future looks like. But I know I’m not letting them feel abandoned. Not again.
Mason likes to help me with tools now. Says he wants to build a go-kart. Lila colors me pictures every morning and tapes them to the fridge. The house is loud. Messy. Chaotic.
But it’s good.
They’re good.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
They deserve better.
And I’m here, for however long they need me.
