Page 50 of The Fear
The kids were his. He’d sat them down and explained, they were going to stay with him forever. Wynnie seemed to understand more than BJ. She’d asked about her mom. If they had to go to her mom’s house again. To be withBillyagain.
Brenton despised that bastard. He’d only met him once, but that had been enough. The guy was shady. He was just looking for something to prove it.
Now he had time to do that without worrying about that asshole around his kids. The new judge had ordered supervised visitation with Jessica—almost out of nowhere. His attorney and hers had been there.
There had been a report by the school. And there had beenphotos.
Dozens of photos. And not all of them taken byhim.Some had been taken by the social worker who had visited this week. Some had been taken by a concerned neighbor.
And Jessica’s family—her parents, her brother, and her sister.
The new judge had even said she wasn’t playing around. Her only concern, she’d said, was the safety and welfare of the children. It didn’t matter which parent provided that, as long as the kids were provided what they deserved. Period.
They didn’t deserve to live in filth. Evidence was overwhelming against Jessica. The judge had even said she did not understand why Judge King had failed to act earlier.
The pictures Brenton had taken had been on the judge’s desk—even Jessica screaming that he’d bought off that judge hadn’t swayed Judge Collins in the least. The judge had looked right at Jessica, held up a photo of the molded stove, and told Jessica she was a mother, she should have done better.
Brenton hadn’t takenthatparticular photo. Jessica’s sister had. Jessica’s mother had sent it to Brenton’s lawyer.
He just hoped to the bottom of his soul that this was permanent. Surely with Jessica’s own parents and siblings on his side, that mattered?
The kids were safer with him. He was going to do his damnedest to make certain they had agoodlife. He’d told the judge that, too. All he wanted was for his kids to be okay. Now he felt he was honestly going to get the chance to make that happen.
But first…Wynnie’s class was responsible for making prize bags for the school carnival. Brenton had more than fifty of those damned things stuffed, then he had to deliver them to the school on time. In two hours.
He could do this. He was determined to be one of those parents who was actively involved in his kids’ education—unlike his own, who couldn’t have cared less whether he even went.
Marie had the kids for a few hours, while Garth was in Houston helping Jackson move home. He didn’t know where Janie was—probably with friends somewhere in Finley Creek—but Brenton had the day off, and some quiet time to himself. He needed to plan how this was going to work out for the kids. BJ and Wynnie somehow always ended up in Wynnie’s bed at night. BJ would get scared. Brenton was going to have to decorate BJ’s room to make it more appealing. Maybe Scraggle Popps or that damned Wonkus McBubbles. Something that made BJ feel safe.
Brenton was stuffing those damned treat bags when someone pounded on the door.
He didn’t hesitate. His kids were out there. And sometimes neighbors stopped by. They knew he was a cop and he’d had to help a few of them before.
He checked out the window.
Jessica.
Of course. He had never met a more confrontational woman. It had only been twenty-four hours since the judge’s order was official.
He opened the door. “There is a restraining order against you, Jess. Want me to call Addy to give you a ride back to where you belong?”
“Where are they? I want to see them, right now.”
“Your mom has them now.” And they were all in agreement. Jessica was to have limited contact with the kids until she got her act together. Whenever that was.Everyonehad agreed Wynnie and BJ came first.
“You aren’t taking my kids away from me! Neither is that bitch. Any of those bitches.” She practically wreaked of whiskey. No surprise, she was drunk again.
Brenton cursed. “Like hell I haven’t. The judge saw what King refused to see. They are better off with me. Why don’t you just get lost? Go screw around with that asshole you picked uplately. Or go lick the damned mold off your floor or something productive. Where did you get the new one, the bar?”
He turned, to shut the door in her face. He and the kids—they were going to bedonewith her. The judge had ordered three hours of visitation a week. That was enough. His kids deserved a chance to grow uphappy.Why couldn’t Jessica see that?
She shrieked. He started to turn.
And that’s when the fire came.
43
She had just lefther children’s father on his kitchen floor. She’d just left him. Like trash.
