The pressure along my forearms is steady and even, the way it always is when someone strong stands at the end of the driveway. I don’t need to look through the window to know who it is.
“I’ll talk to him in the driveway, but I’m staying inside the wards,” I say.
“I’m coming with you, and Bella stays in the house,” Grams answers, already turning toward the living room. “I don’t trust him near her.”
William was never cruel to Bella—hard, yes—but I don’t argue. Caution is a good habit, and we’re keeping it.
Bella looks up from her book. “Do you need me?”
“Not this time.” I touch her hair. “We’ll be right outside. If you hear us talking, ignore it and keep reading.”
She nods and pulls the quilt up like she’s building a fort out of fabric and willpower. That’s enough to steady me.
I put
