Then his eyes raked down my body.
So hot, they licked across my flesh like the searing of flames, everything turning dark when he realized I was standing there in almost nothing.
He dropped his arms as if he were being burned and stepped away. “Get dressed.”
I nodded again and darted down the hall. He was right on my heels, moving into my childhood room. He filled it with that presence, bounding and pulsing, pouring into my lungs and strumming my heart into a frenzy.
I pulled on a pair of jeans, and the man was at my closet, throwing the doors open and grabbing a bag. He moved to my dresser and started to frantically stuff clothes into it.
I shoved my feet into my shoes, my nerves frazzled where they tumbled from my mouth. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe,” he told me, giving me no details.
It didn’t matter. I trusted him anyway. Trusted him with my life. With my children’s lives.
And I realized that was the most significant thing of all.
That I’d place them in his hands and trusted that he would do them no harm. That he would be the one to stand for them. Protect them.
Even when he had absolutely nothing to gain.
I wondered if he had any idea what type of man that made him. If he had the first inclination that when I looked at him, I saw someone giving and selfless and good, when he believed himself rotten and vulgar.
The devil when I saw a shattered saint.
He zipped up the bag and tossed it to me. “Take that.”
Then he was moving back out of the door and into the hall, going straight for the door that had been left open a crack.
As if he already knew exactly where they rested. As if he could sense the lulled thrums and magnified dreams of their sweet, sweet hearts.
He softly pushed open the door. Light from the hall spilled into the room.
Thomas instantly stirred, sitting up in bed and rubbing his fists in his eyes. “Mom?” He blinked, trying to focus. “What’s wrong?”
Ian went directly to him and knelt. He set a reassuring hand on his knee.
That might have been the very moment when my heart completely burst.
A million pieces fragmenting.
Scattering.
Spilling.
Seeking a new home.
Finding him.
The moment the man owned every part of me.
Heart and body and soul committed to his hands when I knew full well that he couldn’t hold me. That he couldn’t keep me. That what we were was hopeless except for what we were both fighting for.
But they were worth it.
Every sacrifice and every loss.
Ian’s voice was quieted. “Thomas, I need you to listen to me very carefully. We’re going to pack a few things, and then we’re going to leave. I’m taking all of you to a safer place where I can protect you. I want you to know it’s okay to be afraid, that all of us are sometimes, but I also need you to be brave for your sisters because this is something they can’t understand. Can you help me do that?”
“Are you taking us away from our dad?” Thomas asked, words a muted croak.
Ian didn’t waver. “Yes.”
Thomas slid off his bed and pushed back his shoulders. “All right.”
My chest pressed full, and my throat tightened, and I struggled not to cry.
My spirit was being pummeled by so many things.
By so much love and hope and belief.
All mixed up with a torrent of terrorized fear. The undoubted risk we were taking. The truth that Ian would never show up here in the middle of the night, frantic, if we weren’t in danger.
Compounding it was that I could feel myself already being crushed by the gutting loss that I knew was to come. The gaping hole this man was going to leave at the center of my soul.
Ian pushed to standing and patted Thomas on the shoulder. “Get the things you want to take with you.”
Instantly, Thomas jumped into action. It was no surprise that he grabbed his tablet and charger first and then stuffed a few books and some clothes into the same small suitcase he used when he went to Reed’s.
I quickly packed the necessities for Sophie, diapers and her shampoo and her pajamas, her favorite doll, and then I hurried to get Mallory’s things that she would want most.
Ian was right there at my side, as if he belonged, shuffling through her drawers and stuffing everything he could into her bag.
We did it all quietly. Barely making a sound as we packed side-by-side. Still, a severity rang between us. The low, pulsing toll of an alarm.
“Ready?” Ian asked as he zipped Sophie’s diaper bag.
I could barely nod. “I think so.”
Ian walked over to Mallory.
For a moment, he froze, looking down at my sweet child where she slept face down on her bed, sideways, one leg kicked up and all her blonde hair spilled out in rivulets of golden locks over her bed. He seemed to hesitate, fighting some kind of war, before he released a shaky exhale and scooped her into his arms and hugged her against his strong chest.