Page 27 of Forbidden Dreams

“Mommy, he hurt you,” he notes at the same time Brady opens the door and the deputy comes in.

“Are you here alone?” Brady asks him, and he nods. “Not going to happen,” he clips. “Call in someone else.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and Brady shakes his head.

“I’m talking about the fact that you and Winston are a part of the same country club,” he explains. “I want someone else.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” he complains, and another car door is being slammed. This time, I put Wyatt behind me, just in case it’s Winston, but it’s not. It’s Charlie, who looks at us with his hands on his hips.

“What’s going on?” he questions as if he didn’t just roll out of bed.

“Asking for a different deputy,” Brady informs him, then looks at me. “Go pack your stuff.” I don’t move from my spot because I can’t. “You aren’t staying here.”

“I need to sit down,” I answer him honestly, afraid my knees are going to give out on me, and I’ll end up on my ass.

Another car door slams, and I look toward the door, and they knock on it. “Hey, Pat,” Charlie greets the guy who is dressed in the same uniform as the first one. He looks around and earns a glare from the deputy who got here first.

“What are you doing here?” he asks him.

“Was in the area when the call came through,” he says. “Did you take her statement?”

“I just got here,” the deputy replies and turns to me.

“She needs to sit down,” Brady barks from beside me, walking me to the living room. Wyatt never leaves my side as I sit on the couch and tell them both what happened.

“I want a restraining order,” I declare, shocking everyone in the room, including me. “Do I call my lawyer?” I don’t know how it works, but I know I don’t want him near me or my son.

“We can issue an emergency protective order,” Pat says to me, earning another glare from the other deputy. “It’s a domestic case.” I nod at him.

“If there is anything else,” Brady says from his spot beside the couch, “let us know.” He looks at us. “But we should get Wyatt in bed.”

They must sense this means the conversation is over. “She needs a case file,” Charlie notes. “Her lawyer will want it.” They nod at him, and the deputy, who I’ve learned is named Jonah, hands me a card with his name and report number under it. They walk out, and Brady and Charlie share a look. “You want me to wait here for them to pack a bag?”

“I’m good,” Brady assures him.

Wyatt gets up from the couch, grabbing my hand. “We need to pack a bag,” he tells me.

“I don’t think your dad will come back tonight,” I try to reassure him.

“Let’s go, then,” Brady urges, “you can grab stuff tomorrow.” He reaches for Wyatt’s hand, who slides it in his, and I know he isn’t going to sleep unless we leave. Brady takes the keys from me, locking the door. Charlie is on the steps as he walks in front of us toward Brady’s house.

“Thanks for coming, Charlie,” I say to him when he heads toward his truck. He nods at me as he gets into the pickup, but he doesn’t leave until we walk up the steps to Brady’s house.

“Welcome to my home,” Brady invites, trying to sound cheerful like he didn’t just rip my ex off me. “There are four bedrooms upstairs.” He walks straight to the staircase on the side. “You guys can pick whatever room you want.”

“Which one is yours?” I ask when we get to the top of the stairs, and he points to the room at the end of the hallway.

“Go pick which one you want,” I urge Wyatt as he lets go of Brady’s hand.

“Brady,” I say his name in almost a whisper.

“Not now.” He avoids even looking at me, and all I can do is close my eyes. “Right now, you have to get your boy in bed.” He stops with his shoulder touching mine. “And I have to go downstairs and take a shot of something and remind myself why it wouldn’t be a good idea to find Winston and break all his fucking teeth.” I gasp, and he walks back down the steps. “Sleep tight, Wyatt,” Brady tells him before he walks down the steps.

“I’m going to sleep in this one,” Wyatt says from the room, and I walk over and see that it’s fully furnished—the big queen-sized bed in the middle of the room with a night table on each side.

He kicks off his shoes and climbs into bed, and I walk to him, not sure what to do. “Are you okay?” I ask, sitting on the corner of the bed, and he nods.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as his eyes start to close. I rub his hair with my hand, waiting until he’s snoring softly before getting up and walking out of the room. I look down the hallway, seeing the door to Brady’s room open, but then hearing noise coming from downstairs.