Page 117 of Ruthless Possession
"Always," Matthew agrees.
The three of us lie in silence, our breathing synchronizing in the darkness. Tomorrow, we'll wake up and make breakfast. We'll help Charlie with her homework. We'll live our lives as if tonight never happened.
But we'll know. We'll always know what we're capable of when pushed to the edge.
I think of Charlie, sleeping peacefully down the hall. I think of the future stretching before us: birthdays, holidays, first days of school. A life built on the ashes of what we destroyed tonight.
It's worth it. She's worth it.
"We should sleep," Matthew murmurs against my shoulder.
I nod, though I know sleep will be hard to find. My mind keeps replaying the night, of Harris's face in the headlights, the gun against my head, the barn, and finally the flames.
But beneath the horror is something else.
We are together. We are safe. We are family.
And nothing will ever tear us apart.
The small weight settles between us without warning. I stir from a light sleep, the kind that's more exhaustion than rest, to find Charlie's serious face inches from mine.
"I had a dream," she whispers.
Trenton shifts beside me, instantly alert despite the hour. Matthew's arm tightens around my waist from the other side, his breathing changing as he surfaces from slumber.
"What kind of dream, sweetheart?" I ask, brushing hair from her face.
Charlie sits up, cross-legged on the bed, Princess Sparklehoof clutched to her chest. The night-light from her room casts just enough glow through our open door to illuminate her features, the furrowed brow and the determined set of her mouth.
"I was thinking about something," she says, her voice small but certain. "About the judge lady and the papers and how you're all officially my family now."
Trenton props himself up on one elbow. Matthew sits up more slowly, his hand finding my back, a steady presence.
"What were you thinking about?" I ask.
Charlie looks between the three of us, her gaze moving from face to face with the intense focus she reserves for her most important questions.
"Can I call you Mommy?" she asks me, then turns to Trenton. "And you Daddy?" Her eyes find Matthew. "And you Papa?"
The words hang in the quiet bedroom. The request is so simple, so profound, that for a moment I can't speak. The official adoption papers sit in a folder in my office, signed and stamped and legally binding. But this, this is different. This is Charlie choosing us.
"Of course you can," I manage, my voice thick. "If that's what you want."
Charlie nods, her expression still serious. "I've been thinking about it since the judge said yes. Dr. Elaine said I should talk about important feelings, and this is my most important feeling."
Matthew reaches out, his large hand engulfing her small one. "Papa," he repeats, testing the word. "I like that."
"Me too," Trenton says, his voice rougher than usual. He extends his arm, and Charlie crawls into the space between us, settling against his chest. "Daddy. I think I can get used to that."
I watch them, my two men and our daughter, and feel a shift in my chest. The horror of the barn recedes, if only slightly. This moment, this simple question in the middle of the night, is what we fought for. What we killed for.
"Can I stay with you tonight?" Charlie asks, already settling deeper into the covers. "Just tonight? Because I'm a little scared."
"Of course, baby," I tell her, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. "You can stay as long as you need."
Matthew lies back down, his hand finding mine over Charlie's small body. "We're all here," he says. "We're not going anywhere."
Charlie's eyes are already growing heavy. "Mommy, Daddy, Papa," she murmurs, testing the words like a prayer. "My family."
