of the childhood feelings Brett described. He heard Lacey in Ella’s words.
He spent Tuesday night in Lacey’s bed, with Levi right there beside him.
On Wednesday, right after he dropped Levi at day care—with a request to Mara, who’d always had a special affinity with Levi, to keep his son close to her that day—Jem called the police. He called victim witness—a public service that provided support for victims of domestic violence who needed to obtain restraining orders. And he went to court.
By Wednesday night, he had a restraining order against Tressa Bridges, with Levi as a named victim. He spent Wednesday night at home in his own bed.
He woke Sunday morning to banging on his front door. Gut instantly tight, he flew out of bed.
It took him a second to realize that it couldn’t be his ex-wife. She’d had a visit from the police the day before, telling her she’d go to jail if she came within twenty-five feet of either Jem or Levi, their home or any of their property. The one thing Tressa feared, more than anything else, was going to jail.
Hoping to God it was Lacey, breaking out of her shell and that eager to see him—maybe having heard from Sydney that he’d finally seen the light and done the right thing—he raced down the hall in his cotton pajama bottoms.
Sometime in the few seconds it had taken him to get from hall to front door, he’d realized that if Lacey was pounding on his door, the news wouldn’t be good.
More likely it was the cops....
The banging was still happening as he yanked the door open.
“Jem, let me in! Quick!” Tressa stood there, sweaty and disheveled, talking in a hushed tone.
But banging loudly on the door?
He looked for her car, but didn’t see it.
“What’s wrong? Where’s your car? Were you in an accident?” Their history didn’t matter. If she was in danger, he had to help her.
“No! Let me in!”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I just needed to see you. And Levi. Amelia’s at church, and I only have a little bit of time. She’s going to leave me if I contact you, but this is you and me. Nothing and no one keeps us apart, right?”
What the hell was she talking about? After all of this?
“No, Tressa. You aren’t right. Do you get that? You are legally banned from seeing your own son.”
“You bastard! How dare you say such a thing to me?”
“Because it’s true. And you know it’s true. You also know that up until now I understood you enough to let it all go. But no more, Tressa. Get this very clearly. No. More.”
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to.
He just calmly closed the door, found his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.
* * *
THE POLICE DISPATCHER took his call, holding him on the line until a cruiser made it to his residence. When they pulled up in two cars, one right after the other, Tressa, damn her, was still out there, alternating between begging him and cursing him. Demanding to be let in. Interspersed with threats of how she was going to make him pay.
An hour later, the police called back to let him know that she was going to be held in custody, at least overnight. By that time he and Levi were showered and dressed.
The officer wanted to know if he wanted to press charges. He didn’t want to, but he did so. He trusted that with time, and the counseling Brett had recommended, his guilt over that would ease.
By lunchtime that same day, the day Lacey, hopefully, would be returning home, the day before she was due back at work, Jem put the finishing touches on her dream room. With his son’s hand in his, he took a last look around, put a couple of toothbrushes in his tool bag, left a key on the table and walked out, locking the door behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SHE’D THOUGHT LEAVING Kacey was going to be the hard part. It wasn’t. Pulling up in front of her house, seeing Jem’s truck gone, was horrible. But Lacey got past the moment. She pulled into her garage. Grabbed her suitcase and went into the house.