Chapter 7 - Bringing Him In
When I pushed open the back door and stepped out onto the patio, the cool rain hit my face again, but I barely noticed.
Daniel was already at the far corner of the yard. He had managed to find the heavy brass key hanging on its designated hook inside the garage fuse box—a detail Chloe had undoubtedly forgotten or simply didn't care to remember. The padlock clicked open, and Daniel swung the heavy wire door outward with a desperate, sobbing gasp.
"Wesley, buddy, I'm so sorry. Oh god, I'm so sorry," Daniel choked out, falling to his knees in the wet grass and mud.
He scooped the shivering boy into his arms, wrapping him tight against his chest. Wesley was crying softly, shivering so hard his little body was shaking like a leaf in a gale.
I was there before they could even stand up. I stepped into the radius of the yard light, shaking out the thick wool blanket I had brought with me, and wrapped it securely around my grandson’s shoulders, tucking it in tightly beneath his chin.
"I've got you, sweetheart," I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his damp forehead. "Grandma’s got you. You're safe now."
Wesley buried his face in my neck, his little arms wrapping around my shoulders with desperate strength. "You came back, Grandma. You really came back."
"I did," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion as I glared past Daniel toward the lighted kitchen window where Chloe’s frightened silhouette was visible through the glass. "And I'm never leaving again."
Daniel stood up, carrying Wesley carefully in his arms as they hurried back toward the shelter of the house. His face was pale, streaked with a mixture of rain and bitter tears of shame and realization. He had allowed this woman to take over his life, had turned a blind eye to her toxic behavior because he was afraid of being alone, and it had almost cost him his son.
We stepped back into the warm kitchen, leaving the cold rain behind us. The party guests were entirely gone now, the front door standing slightly ajar in their hasty retreat.
I guided Daniel and Wesley into the downstairs bathroom, turning the shower on warm to help bring the boy's core temperature back up gradually. While Daniel gently helped Wesley out of his damp, clinging pajamas and into a warm bath, I walked back out to the kitchen to deal with the remaining problem.
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Chloe was standing by the kitchen island, her coat already pulled over her shoulders, her car keys clutched tightly in her trembling hand.
"I'm leaving," she muttered defensively, refusing to meet my eyes as I stepped into the room. "This is insane. You're all overreacting. It was just a joke!"
