“For leaving.”
Peter moved carefully to the edge of the bed.
“Drew.”
His nephew’s voice dropped.
“Reena said if we ever told, they’d take Lily away. She said Dad would be ashamed.”
Peter took the boy’s hand.
It was too small and too warm and too careful in his own.
“Your dad would be proud of you.”
Drew’s face crumpled.
“He would?”
“Yes.”
Peter had never been more certain of anything.
“You saved your sister. You were brave. You were smart. And I should have come sooner.”
Drew began to cry then.
Not the quiet, controlled crying of a child trying not to get punished.
Real sobs.
Deep, exhausted sobs that shook his small body while Peter leaned over him and held him as gently as he could.
“I’ve got you now,” Peter whispered. “Both of you.”
Lily woke at the sound and reached for Drew.
Peter lifted her carefully onto the bed beside him.
She curled into her brother as if that was the only safe place she knew.
For the next several hours, the hospital room became a place of forms, questions, and quiet promises.
CPS arrived with badges on lanyards and clipboards full of pages.
They asked Peter about family history.
They asked about Aaron.
They asked about Reena’s pattern of refusing visits.
Peter answered everything.
He gave them texts.
Voicemails.
Photos of unopened birthday gifts on Reena’s porch.
Screenshots of messages where she told him the children were too fragile to see him.
One worker wrote steadily while the other watched Drew and Lily sleep.
By evening, an emergency placement decision was being discussed.
Peter did not wait to be asked twice.
