Chapter 9 #3
The coffeepot gurgles in the silence that follows. Outside, the security lights flicker on as dusk settles over our property. We've built a life here, the three of us, from the wreckage of what came before. We've created something solid and worth protecting.
"I keep thinking about those other women," I admit, my fingers tracing patterns on the kitchen counter. "The ones he killed. Did any of them have children he took? Did he—"
"We'll find out," Trenton says. "Techy's working on it. But that doesn't change what's right in front of us."
Charlie. Her small voice asking for one more song. Her eyes lighting up when she saw the yellow dress. The way she curled into Trenton's chest after her nightmare.
"She trusts us," Matthew says quietly. "After everything she's been through, she trusts us completely."
I think about the way she reached for Trenton in the car, the way she guided Matthew's hand while drawing, and the way she asked me to stay. How many people in her short life has she been able to trust?
"It wouldn't be easy," I say, voicing my fears. "The adoption process, if we can even—"
"The club has connections," Trenton reminds me. "Greyson knows people. And Ethan, your dad's friend, knows the family court judge."
"The social worker mentioned we'd need to complete paperwork for permanent placement," Matthew adds. "She was talking about us as potential foster parents."
The pieces are falling into place, even as my mind races with doubts and fears. What if we're not enough? What if we can't protect her? What if Evan finds us?
"We'd have to be smart about this," Trenton says, his eyes hardening. "No more shopping trips until we've dealt with Harris. We need to tighten security, change routines."
"Fortify," Matthew agrees, nodding. "Make this place impenetrable."
I look between them, these two men who have been my whole world for so long. They're already planning, already thinking like parents would, like protectors.
"We'd be doing it alone," I say, the reality of it hitting me. "Three of us against whatever comes."
"Not alone," Trenton corrects. "We have the club. Your dad. The police are already involved."
"But at the end of the day…" I let the sentence trail off.
"It's us," Matthew finishes. "Just like it's always been."
I think about the house we've built, the life we've created. A life that suddenly includes a small girl with too small shoes and eyes that have seen too much.
"I want this," I admit, the words barely a whisper. "I want her."
Trenton reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. "We all do."
"I'm in," Matthew says, his voice steady. "Whatever it takes."
The weight of the decision settles over us, but it doesn't feel like a burden, it feels right.
"We should talk to her," I say. "She needs to know she has options. That we want her, but that it's her choice too."
Trenton nods. "Tomorrow. After she's had time to settle in."
I glance toward the stairs, where Charlie sleeps surrounded by her new stuffed animals and the night-light's gentle glow. For six years, I've built a life waiting for Trenton and Matthew to come home. Now, suddenly, our home feels complete in a way I never expected.
"We'll need to get her enrolled in school," I say, already making mental lists. "She'll need therapy, friends her own age…"
"One step at a time," Matthew says, but there's a smile in his voice. "Let's get through tonight first."
The house is quiet around us, the security system humming softly as it monitors our perimeter. Evan is still out there, a threat looming on the horizon. But in this moment, with the kitchen warm and my partners beside me, I feel a certainty I haven't felt since before they left.
"We can do this," I say. "The three of us."
"Four," Trenton corrects, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's four now."
Four. The word hangs in the air between us, rewriting our future in a single syllable.
I stand, drawn by an impulse I don't question. "I'm going to check on her."
They don't question me, just watch as I move toward the stairs. At Charlie's door, I pause, listening to the soft sound of her breathing. When I push the door open, she's curled on her side, one arm wrapped around her unicorn, her face peaceful in sleep.
"Sweet dreams," I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.
As I turn to leave, a small voice stops me.
"Ms. Morgan?"
I look back to find her eyes open, watching me in the dim light.
"Can you stay? Just for a little while?"
I don't hesitate. "Of course I can."
I settle on the edge of her bed, and her small hand finds mine in the darkness.
"Are you happy here?" I ask the question I've been carrying all day.
She's quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if she's fallen back asleep. Then, "I think so. It feels… safe."
The word breaks something open in my chest. "We want you to feel safe here, Charlie. Always."
"Is it okay if I stay?" Her voice is so small in the darkness. "With you and Mr. Trent and Mr. Matt?"
I squeeze her hand gently. "It's more than okay. We want you to stay."
A smile breaks across her face, sleepy but radiant. "Good."
As I watch her drift back to sleep, I realize that this girl is burrowing herself deep into my chest.