Chương 4
Just as his father.
His hair was messy from the pillow.
One of his feet stuck out from under the blanket because he always kicked covers away when he slept.
He had done that since he was little.
Josie used to complain about it.
She would walk into his room every morning and say, “How do you lose a blanket when you’re lying in one spot?”
And Jacob would laugh because he never had an answer.
Small things.
Things I had almost forgotten I missed.
The door opened behind me.
Josie stepped out of the hallway bathroom holding a paper towel.
She looked exhausted.
Neither of us spoke immediately.
There was too much history between two people who used to know every version of each other.
“You stayed all night,” she said.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“I figured.”
The way she said it almost sounded like an apology.
Almost.
“How did you sleep?”
She looked at the floor.
“I didn’t.”
Neither of us smiled.
There wasn’t room for that yet.
“Detective Alvarez called me,” she said.
“What did he say?”
“He wants to talk to me again.”
“About what?”
She hesitated.
“Darren.”
I watched her carefully.
“What changed?”
She folded the paper towel into smaller and smaller pieces.
“I told him there were things I didn’t mention.”
That got my attention.
“What things?”
She looked embarrassed.
“I thought they weren’t important.”
“Josie.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“I know how it sounds.”
“Then tell me.”
She took a breath.
“Two weeks ago, Jacob broke a plate.”
I frowned.
“A plate?”
“He dropped it while washing dishes.”
“Okay.”
“Darren got angry.”
“How angry?”
She didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
“Josie.”
“He grabbed his arm.”
My stomach tightened.
“Which arm?”
She looked toward Jacob’s room.
“The right one.”
I stared at her.
The hospital sounds continued around us.
A cart rolling.
A phone ringing.
Someone laughing softly near the elevators.
All of it felt distant.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because he told me I was overreacting.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
She wiped her face.
“It isn’t.”
She looked older than she had the day before.
“I wanted my marriage to work.”
The honesty surprised me.
Not because it was good.
Because it was human.
People protected things they had invested in.
Even when those things were hurting them.
“I had spent so much time telling everyone I made the right choice,” she continued.
“I didn’t want to admit maybe I didn’t.”
I leaned against the wall.
“You know what I hated most after we split?”
She looked at me.
“I thought you left because I wasn’t enough.”
Her expression changed.
“Nate…”
“I thought you found someone better.”
“I never thought that.”
“Maybe not.”
I looked through the window.
“But I did.”
The confession sat there.
Not dramatic.
Not powerful.
Just true.
The divorce had left scars on both of us.
Different ones.
I had carried mine quietly.
She had tried to cover hers with a new life.
And somewhere in the middle, Jacob had been caught between two adults who were too busy surviving their own pain.
“I should have seen it,” she whispered.
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know how.
There were moments when comforting someone felt like lying.
A few minutes later, Detective Alvarez returned with a woman wearing a navy jacket and carrying a folder.
“This is Karen Whitfield from child protective services.”
Josie straightened.
I noticed the reaction.
Fear.
Not of Karen.
Of judgment.
Karen introduced herself calmly.
“I know this is difficult.”
That sentence usually meant the person saying it understood exactly how difficult.
“We’ll need to speak with Jacob privately.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Josie looked at me.
I knew what she wanted.
Permission.
Reassurance.
Something.
But I couldn’t give her what she wanted.
Not yet.
The woman entered Jacob’s room.
I watched through the glass.
Jacob woke up.
He looked scared at first.
Then Karen sat beside him and said something that made his shoulders lower.
I couldn’t hear the words.
Maybe that was better.
Some conversations belonged only to the people inside them.
While we waited, Josie sat beside me.
A few minutes passed.
Then she said something I didn’t expect.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
That was too large.
Too easy.
I shook my head.
“Don’t do that.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“Do what?”
“Turn this into one giant apology.”
She looked away.
“Why?”
“Because then we don’t have to talk about the actual things.”
She was quiet.
I continued.
“Jacob needs us to be honest.”
She nodded slowly.
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“We keep saying we know things.”
The words came out harsher than I intended.
“But knowing isn’t the same as doing something.”
She accepted that.
Maybe because she knew I was right.
Maybe because she was too tired to argue.
After nearly forty minutes, Karen came out.
Her expression gave nothing away.
That was part of the job.
People who worked around pain learned how to keep their faces still.
“Jacob was able to answer some questions,” she said.
“Was he okay?”
Karen looked at me.
“He’s scared.”
The answer hurt.
“But he was clear.”
Josie covered her mouth.
“What did he say?”
Karen looked between us.
“He described repeated incidents.”
The hallway became silent.
“He said Mr. Parker would punish him when he thought Jacob was being disrespectful.”
I felt my hands close into fists.
Karen noticed.
“Mr. Horn.”
I released them.
Immediately.
A habit.
One I had built over years.
“Sorry.”
She nodded.
“Control is important right now.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because everyone kept telling me the same thing.
Control.
Patience.
Process.
All the things that felt impossible when my child was lying behind a hospital door.
“Did he mention last night?” Josie asked.
“Yes.”
Her voice dropped.
“What did he say?”
Karen looked down at her folder.
“He said Mr. Parker was drinking.”
May you like
I closed my eyes.
Not because I was surprised.
