12. Huck
HUCK
The school’s too clean. That’s the first thing I notice.
Sterile buildings, soft landscaping, everything painted in cheerful colors like that’ll keep the monsters out.
But monsters don’t care about playground mulch or motivational banners.
Monsters smile for the front office and write checks to the PTA.
According to Wesley, David Oswalt has been a hell of a check writer.
I scan the parking lot from the passenger seat, my shoulders too wide for the Lexus SUV Jessica drives like it’s an extension of her body. Her knuckles are white on the wheel. She hasn’t said a word since we pulled out of the driveway.
“You good?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer right away. Just pulls into the drop-off lane, eyes sharp behind her sunglasses. “I don’t like this,” she mutters. “Feels like we’re walking into something.”
She’s not wrong. But we both know not to say anything with the little ears in the back seat.
With David slimy enough to hire someone to take blackmail pictures, none of us are betting on restraint.
I volunteered for morning drop-off duty.
Sean and Wesley are fighters, there’s no question about that.
But I’m bigger. I’m scarier. Sometimes that bothers me.
Today is not one of those times. Because if David’s stupid enough to show his face?
I’ll be the one to stop him. With gusto.
The back door opens and Maeve jumps out, backpack slung over one shoulder, braid bouncing. Eli’s slower, more hesitant. His glasses are slightly crooked, and he’s got his hoodie zipped all the way up, even though it’s pushing eighty already.
“Thanks, Jess,” Maeve says, and I get a quick wave from her before she takes off.
Eli lingers. “You’re coming back to pick us up, right?”
Jessica softens. “Of course, baby. We’ll be here.”
That seems to reassure him. He follows Maeve onto the sidewalk.
I keep my eyes on the curb. Because something smells off . I clock him the second he rounds the corner of the admin building.
David Oswalt.
Polished. Pressed. Looking like he just stepped off a golf course commercial—crisp white polo, expensive loafers, hair a little too perfect for a man pretending he’s casually involved.
But his walk is wrong. Too purposeful. Too much fire in his eyes.
Jessica sees him at the same time I do. She steps out of the driver’s seat, closes the door behind her.
She has the same mission as me—make sure the kids get to class.
From here, we can watch them walk to their respective classrooms and make sure their father doesn’t get any ideas about pulling them from school for the day. Or for longer.
David’s smile is sharp. “Jessica,” he says, like they’re old friends catching up over coffee. “Tell Bailey I’ll be picking the kids up today after school.”
“No, you won’t,” she replies flatly.
His smile doesn’t move, but his tone shifts. “I’ll be picking them up,” he repeats, slower now, like she didn’t understand the first time. “Just passing that message along. Since she won’t talk to me.”
“You don’t have custody today, so you’re not picking them up.”
“That court order’s fluid.”
“No, it’s not. ” She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t step back.
I’m proud of her for that. But I can see the edge of her tightening jaw. The way she positions her body between him and the SUV—like she’s ready to go hand-to-hand if it comes to that.
David’s eyes narrow. “You’ve always been too involved. You think this is about you?”
“No,” she says. “But I do think it’s about keeping Maeve and Eli safe. So, if you’ve got a message for Bailey, send it through your lawyer.”
That’s when it happens. His hand twitches. The smile drops. And his weight shifts forward—just barely. But I see it.
Jessica sees it too. She tenses, but doesn’t flinch.
That’s my cue.
I step forward and fill the space between them. David jerks back like he just realized I’ve been here the whole time. Which makes me smile. Big. Slow. Mean. I growl, “Problem?”
He lifts his hands, all innocence and practiced charm. “Not at all. Just saying hello to the help.”
I take another step.
He stops smiling. David’s still got his hands up like he’s auditioning for sainthood, but I can see the flicker behind his eyes. He’s trying to calculate whether I’ll break his jaw before anyone can stop me. He’s not wrong to worry.
I step a little closer. Close enough for him to smell that I’m not bluffing. “I’ve seen guys like you before,” I say low, so only he can hear it. “Behind luxury gates and police reports and golf memberships. Guys who smile at cameras and hit women when no one’s looking.”
He scoffs. “I have never hit Jessica?—”
“No,” I say. “But you thought about it.”
His jaw twitches.
“You flinched,” I go on. “Shifted forward. Dropped your smile. For someone who’s supposed to be playing nice, you got a little too close to letting that expensive mask slip.
” I step closer, my chest almost to his face, and stare down at him.
“You’re lucky we’re in a public place, David. But we won’t be forever.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but doesn’t get the chance.
“Everything okay over here?”
The voice comes from our right—school security officer, maybe late thirties, walking toward us in a blue polo and khakis with a radio clipped to his belt, lace-up boots. Not armed, but clearly ex-military by his stance. I like him immediately.
David straightens and pastes on a new smile. “Yes, sir. Just a little misunderstanding.”
“Uh-huh.” The officer’s gaze moves to Jessica. “Ma’am?”
“We’re good,” she says calmly, though her voice is tight. “Davy was just leaving.”
David winces at that. It’s small, but I catch it.
Hates being called Davy. Noted.
The officer glances at me. I give him a tight nod. “We’re fine. For now.”
David chuckles awkwardly, like he’s the sane one here. “No trouble at all, officer.” Then he turns and walks away. Not fast. Not slow. Calculated to appear innocent.
I wait until he’s out of sight before I say, “That man is one missed meal away from showing his true colors.”
Jessica finally exhales. “You saw it too?”
“Every second.”
The security officer lingers. “You want to report anything?”
“Not yet,” I say. “But if he shows up again to take his kids, the police need to be involved immediately. He doesn’t pick them up from here. That’s not what’s in the court order.”
He nods. “Understood. I’ll be sure to keep an extra eye on the Beausoleil kids.”
“Thank you for that.” I look over at Jessica. “You good?”
She nods once. “I will be.”
We head back to the SUV without another word. But inside, I’m already planning what I’ll do if David ever touches her or the kids. It won’t be a conversation. By the time we get back to the house, I’ve replayed the whole scene a dozen times in my head.
The twitch in David’s hand. The fake calm. The way he waited for Jessica to be alone, like he was testing whether he could corner her without an audience.
Jessica heads straight for the kitchen. I let her go. She doesn’t need me crowding her right now—just space, and time, and maybe a hot drink from that fancy espresso machine Bailey swears she never uses.
Sean’s in the ops room when I find him, reading a live feed off the gate cameras. “Anything?” he asks, eyes still on the screen.
“He was there,” I say.
That gets his attention.
“Showed up at drop-off. Told Jessica he’d be picking up the kids today. Acted like it was his right.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Got close to her. Too close.”
Sean’s voice goes flat. “Did he touch her?”
“No. But he almost did. He wanted to. He was preparing, shifted his stance, fingers fisting.”
He exhales through his nose, hands tightening around the edge of the desk. “Witnesses?”
“Security guard came up before it escalated. David backed off, played it like a misunderstanding.”
“Course he did.” He rubs a hand down his jaw. “We’ll log it. Wesley’s still building the case file.”
“Won’t matter.”
Sean looks at me. “You don’t think the restraining order will stick?”
“Oh, it’ll stick. But guys like David? They don’t stop because someone tells them to.”
He nods slowly, like he already knows where my head’s at.
“I’m not saying I’m gonna do anything,” I add. “Yet. But if he touches Jessica or Bailey or the kids? Then I end him.”
Sean studies me. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t try to talk me down. He just says, “Keep it legal. You know the rules.”
I nod and turn to go. But inside, I’m already drawing lines in blood. Because there’s a difference between protecting someone and owning them. David doesn’t know the difference.
I do. And I’ll be damned if I let him put his hands on any of them again.