Chapter 13 #2
“Cipher found a vehicle on a private camera several miles east. He can’t confirm it’s connected, but Toxic wants a briefing tonight.”
Her fingers tightened around the damp cloth she held.
“What time?”
“Seven.”
She waited.
I could see the expectation in her eyes, the old certainty that I would follow the information with instructions about where she should remain.
“He wants you there,” I said. “Because you may recognize something in the photographs or files.”
The children continued talking around us, unaware that the room had changed.
Sunshine glanced toward Charlie before looking back at me. “Do you want me there?”
The question caught me off guard because the honest answer contained two opposing truths.
“No,” I said.
Her expression closed slightly.
I continued before she could misunderstand. “I don’t want you anywhere near something that drags you back into that place. I want you here painting ladybugs and arguing about dragons. But what I want isn’t the same as what you need, and I’m not deciding that for you.”
Something in her face softened again.
“You think I should go.”
“I think you should decide.”
She studied me for several seconds. “Will you be there?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“You don’t have to make the decision because I’ll be beside you.”
“I know.” She folded the cloth carefully and placed it beside the paint water. “That’s why I can make it.”
The trust in those words unsettled me in the deepest way. She was not saying she needed me to rescue her. She was saying my presence gave her enough safety to face something she would otherwise avoid.
“I’ll stay with you,” I promised.
“I know.”
Charlie looked up from the pot. “Where are you going?”
Sunshine answered before I could.
“To a grown-up meeting.”
“Are there snacks?”
“Probably.”
“Then I wanna go.”
“Absolutely not,” I said.
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because Uncle Toxic says boring things for a long time.”
“That’s true,” Steel said as he entered the activity room carrying a drill and a box of new window locks. “I fall asleep at most meetings.”
“You do not,” I said.
“I rest my eyes.”
Charlie considered this. “Can Mr. Pickles go?”
Steel looked toward the bear. “He appears to have clearance.”
“He’s commander.”
“Then we’d be foolish to exclude him.”
Charlie brightened.
“No,” I said.
Both of them looked at me with matching disappointment.
Steel shook his head. “Authoritarian.”
“You’re here to install locks.”
“I’m here to protect democracy.”
“You’re holding a power drill.”
“Exactly.”
Sunshine laughed softly, and the sound eased the tension enough for Charlie to return to her project. Steel moved toward the first window, muttering about oppressive leadership while I crouched beside the table again.
“Tonight,” I told Sunshine quietly, “if you need to leave, we leave.”
“What if the meeting isn’t finished?”
“It continues without us.”
“What if I remember something important?”
“You tell us when you can.”
“And if I freeze?”
“I remind you where you are.”
Her eyes held mine. “The east trail.”
“Or the clubhouse. Wherever we are.”
“What do you ask?”
“What you hear. What you smell. What you can touch.”
She looked down at her hands.
“What if none of that works?”
I leaned closer, keeping my voice low enough that the children could not hear.
“Then you look at me.”
Sunshine raised her gaze.
“And if I can’t?”
“I’ll still be there when you can.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The room remained filled with children, wet paint, glitter, and Steel deliberately making the drill whine because Charlie found the sound hilarious. Nothing about the setting was romantic, yet the quiet understanding between us felt more intimate than a kiss.
Sunshine reached beneath the edge of the table and slipped her fingers into mine.
The gesture remained hidden from everyone except us.
“I’m beginning to believe you,” she whispered.
I closed my hand around hers.
“Good.”
She looked toward the painted pot where the yellow and blue ladybugs overlapped.
“I’m not sure whether that makes me feel safer or more afraid.”
“Probably both.”
“That isn’t very comforting.”
“It’s honest.”
Her thumb moved once against the side of my hand.
“I think I prefer honest.”
“So do I.”
We remained that way until Charlie climbed halfway across the table and announced that the family garden guard needed a roof. Sunshine released my hand before our daughter could notice, though the warmth of her touch stayed with me long after she returned to the paint.
The rest of the afternoon passed beneath increased security and determined normalcy.
Mace and Steel replaced window locks. Bishop checked every room twice under the excuse of testing smoke alarms. Cipher sent updated instructions to volunteers about doors, vehicles, and unfamiliar faces while Toxic reassured residents without sharing enough details to spread panic.
Daisy baked two trays of cookies because anxiety had always sent her toward flour, and Charlie appointed herself official taste inspector until Lark threatened to confiscate the stool.
Through all of it, Sunshine stayed with the children.
She did not pretend the threat was gone.
Every sudden sound still made her shoulders tense, and twice I saw her glance toward the windows before forcing herself back into the conversation.
Yet she remained. She read stories, helped Lily write her name across the bottom of the painted pot, and sat with Nathan when the additional locks made him nervous.
Fear was present.
It simply was not in charge.
By six, I had checked every resident, reviewed the emergency supply inventory, and spoken with the sheriff about increasing patrols along the county road without revealing details that might leak beyond the department.
The official explanation remained suspicious activity near a protected shelter.
Carson understood enough not to ask unnecessary questions.
Sunshine met me near the clinic entrance wearing a dry sweater and holding the folded handkerchief I had given her days earlier. She had tucked it into one pocket as though it were something she might need rather than a keepsake.
“You ready?” I asked.
“No.”
“Good answer.”
She looked toward the activity room where Charlie sat with Daisy, eating tomato soup and explaining the hierarchy of guardian ladybugs.
“Will she be safe?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No.” I stepped closer. “But I can tell you Toxic has doubled the perimeter, Cipher is monitoring every camera, and half the club will remain here while we’re at the clubhouse. Nobody gets near this house unnoticed.”
Sunshine nodded, though her gaze remained on Charlie.
“I know this feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“Leaving children somewhere while danger waits outside.”
The words carried enough pain that I resisted every instinct to offer reassurance too quickly.
“This isn’t the same place,” I said.
“I know.”
“You’re not leaving them behind.”
“I know.”
“And you’re coming back.”
Her eyes finally met mine.
“I know.”
This time she sounded as though she almost believed it.
Charlie spotted us near the door and ran over with Mr. Pickles beneath one arm.
“Meeting time?”
“Meeting time,” I confirmed.
She held the bear toward Sunshine. “He can’t go, so you need this.”
A small plastic badge rested in her palm, cut from silver paper and marked with a crooked yellow star.
Sunshine accepted it carefully. “What is it?”
“Guardian badge.”
“What does it do?”
“Reminds you.”
“Of what?”
Charlie looked surprised she needed to ask. “That you come back.”
Sunshine’s face changed.
She knelt and wrapped both arms around Charlie without hesitation.
“I’ll come back.”
Charlie hugged her tightly. “I know.”
The certainty in my daughter’s voice moved through both of us.
When Sunshine stood, she pinned the paper badge to the front of her sweater.
“How do I look?”
Charlie considered her seriously. “Official.”
“That’s what I was hoping for.”
We stepped outside beneath a sky slowly clearing toward sunset.
The rain had ended, leaving the air cold and clean, while water shone across the driveway beneath the porch lights.
My bike waited beside Sunshine’s car, but I had already decided we would ride together in the truck.
If the meeting became too much, I wanted to leave without waiting for anyone else.
Sunshine paused beside the passenger door.
“Remedy.”
“What?”
She touched the paper badge lightly.
“I’m afraid they’ll know me.”
The admission was barely louder than the dripping trees.
I moved closer but left the final inches between us for her to choose.
“If they do, that doesn’t give them power over you.”
“They’ll think it does.”
“They can think whatever they want.”
“What if they came to take me back?”
My anger rose so quickly I had to temper it before answering.
“They won’t.”
“You can’t know that either.”
“No,” I said. “But I know they’ll have to come through every brother in this chapter, every woman who built Harbor House, and me before they get close enough to try.”
She studied my face.
“I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.”
“This isn’t because of you.”
“I know you keep saying that.”
“I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”
Her breath trembled as she released it.
Then she stepped into the remaining space and rested her forehead against my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her slowly, careful to give her time to change her mind. She did not. Instead, she gripped the back of my shirt and held on while the last daylight faded across the wet property behind us.
I lowered my cheek against her hair.
“You’re not going back,” I said.
Sunshine’s voice came muffled against my chest.
“I know.”
This time, the words held more certainty.
I kept holding her until she stepped away first.
Then we climbed into the truck and drove toward the clubhouse, where the past waited beneath photographs, names, and files.
For the first time, Sunshine was not going to face it alone.
The clubhouse was quieter than it had been the night before.