Drew lifted his head.
His lips were dry, and his voice was nearly gone.
“She locked us downstairs again.”
Peter heard the sentence, but one word struck harder than the rest.
Again.
He looked at Lily, then back at Drew.
“Who locked you downstairs?”
Drew swallowed.
“Reena.”
He drew a thin breath and added, “I had to get Lily out. She was really hungry.”
Peter’s chest went cold despite the heat.
He lifted Lily first because she was slipping sideways.
She weighed almost nothing.
Her body felt warm and fragile against him, and when he carried her inside, she did not ask where they were going.
She only kept reaching back toward Drew.
Peter placed her on the couch, grabbed a blanket, and hurried outside again.
Drew had not moved.
He was gripping the edge of the step with white knuckles, jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle jumped near his ear.
Peter slid one arm behind his shoulders and the other under his good leg.
“I’m going to lift you,” he said. “I’ll go slow.”
Drew nodded.
The moment Peter raised him, the boy bit his lower lip hard enough to leave a bright red line.
He did not scream.
He did not even whimper.
That frightened Peter more than noise would have.
Children cry when they believe someone will come.
Drew had learned to save his breath.
Inside, Peter laid him on the couch and kept the injured leg as still as he could.
He wrapped both children in blankets even though the room was warm.
Lily saw a sleeve of crackers on the coffee table and reached for it with both hands.
She tore the package open badly, scattering crumbs across her lap.
Then she pushed two crackers into her mouth at once.
“Slow,” Drew whispered.
He reached across his own pain and patted her back.
“Slow, Lily. Chew first.”
Peter stood frozen beside the couch.
A six-year-old should not have to become a parent because the adults around him chose not to look closely.
He took out his phone.
“I’m calling for help.”
Drew’s eyes widened.
“She’ll be mad.”
Peter knelt in front of him.
“She is not touching you again.”
The words came out low and steady.
Peter did not feel steady.
His hands were trembling so badly that he had to enter the emergency number twice.
When the operator answered, he forced himself to speak in facts.
“My nephew and niece just arrived at my house.”
He gave the address.
