Then he looks up at me, his voice trembling. “Can I stay here? Just for a while? I can help around the house—I’ll do anything. I just… I don’t want to go back right now.”
I swallow. “Where’s Lily?”
That’s the moment I realize—this isn’t just a spat. This is something serious. I nod slowly. “Of course you can stay. But we need to do this right. If you’re not safe at home, we need to talk to someone.”
His eyes widen with fear. “No. Please. Don’t call anyone. If Mom finds out—”
“I won’t do anything without you, okay?” I say gently. “But I can’t pretend this is normal, Zach. You’re a child. You shouldn’t have to feel unsafe in your own home.”
He doesn’t argue. Just leans into me a little, like he’s exhausted. I bring him inside, fix him a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. He eats like he hasn’t had a real meal in days.
That night, I set up the guest room for him. As I tuck in the sheets, he watches me from the doorway.
“I remember when you used to make pancakes every Saturday,” he says. “With whipped cream and strawberries. Even when we forgot to say thank you.”
I smile sadly. “I never did it for the thanks. I did it because I love you.”
He nods slowly. “I know that now.”
“I texted Lily,” he says. “She wants to come here too. Can she?”
“Absolutely,” I say without hesitation.
An hour later, Lily arrives. She’s thirteen, fierce and fragile all at once. She throws her arms around me like she’s been holding it in for too long, then whispers, “I thought you hated us.”
I pull back, shocked. “What? Never. Why would you think that?”
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