“Maribelle, stay with your mom. Faith, I’ll be right back. Calm down, because something tells me we may need a clear head if her parents find out.”
“This can’t be happening. They’re only twelve years old.” Faith stomps her foot, like she always does when she’s upset.
“It’s part of life, baby. We’ll weather the storm and get ready for the next one. Love you, Faith. Love you, baby girl.” I kiss Faith, ruffle Maribelle’s hair, and then I’m off to take care of our boy, trying not to smile because he’s hit a milestone in his life, yet worried all at the same time. Shit, this parenting business is harder than being a Sheriff.