Page 61 of Ruthless Possession
He shrugs, but I can see the pleasure in his eyes. "She's easy to love."
As I mix the pancake batter, I watch Charlie and Trenton from the corner of my eye. She's showing him her drawing, explaining each element with the seriousness only a child can muster. He's listening intently, asking questions, completely engaged.
"He's a natural," Matthew says, appearing beside me. He's dressed now, his hair still damp from our morning activities.
"He is," I agree, feeling that warm glow spread through my chest again. "You both are."
"We'll need to call the social worker today," Matthew reminds me, his voice low. "Start the process."
I nod, my gaze drifting to Charlie. She looks so happy, so content. The bruises on her arms are already beginning to fade, but the ones inside, those will take longer to heal.
"Pancakes!" Charlie announces, spotting the bowl in my hands. "With chocolate chips?"
"With chocolate chips," I confirm, turning on the stove. "The magic ones."
As I pour batter onto the hot surface, I feel Matthew's hand steadying me. Trenton catches my eye across the kitchen, his expression warm. And Charlie chatters happily about castles and princesses.
The sound of the doorbell cuts through our morning ritual. I exchange a look with Matthew, who immediately moves to the window while Trenton positions himself between Charlie and the door.
"It's my parents," I say, recognizing my father's truck through the window. "They must have come to meet Charlie."
Relief washes over me. While I'd been expecting their visit, I hadn't realized how much I needed to see them until this moment.
"I'll get it," Trenton says, keeping his voice light for Charlie's sake. "Finish your breakfast, kiddo."
I move to the sink, rinsing my hands before drying them on a towel. Charlie watches me with curious eyes, a smear of chocolate on her cheek.
"Who's here?" she asks, her fork paused halfway to her mouth.
"Just my mom and dad," I explain, keeping my tone casual. "They've been wanting to meet you."
I hear my mother's voice before I see her. "Morgan! We brought some things for the little one."
When I round the corner into the living room, my parents are standing in the entryway, my mother clutching a gift bag with bright pink tissue paper while my father holds a stuffed dog under one arm. The sight makes my eyes sting with unexpected tears.
"Mom, Dad," I say, moving forward to hug them both. "Thanks for coming."
"We've been worried sick," my mother whispers against my hair, her arms tight around me. "Your father told us everything."
I pull back, gesturing toward the kitchen. "She's eating breakfast. We've told her about you."
My father's face softens in a way I haven't seen since I was a child. "Good. That's good."
In the kitchen, Charlie has abandoned her pancakes to peer around Trenton's legs, curiosity overcoming shyness. When she sees us, she straightens, her small shoulders squaring like she's preparing for inspection.
"Charlie," I say, moving to her side. "These are my parents, Isaac and Emily. Mom, Dad, this is Charlie."
My mother approaches slowly, her smile warm but careful. "Hello, Charlie. I've heard so much about you."
"From Ms. Morgan?" Charlie asks, her eyes darting to me.
"Yes," my mother confirms. "She says you're very brave."
Charlie's cheeks flush with pleasure. "I try to be."
My father steps forward, holding out a stuffed dog. "We brought you something. If that's okay?"
Charlie looks to me for permission, and I nod encouragingly. She takes the dog carefully, holding it to her chest. "Thank you, Mr. Isaac."
