Chapter 1
The first thing I saw was the yellow taxi.
The second was my six-year-old son standing beside it with tears running down his face.
Noah had his brown teddy bear crushed against his chest.
Beside him, Nia was dragging a rolling suitcase down our driveway as fast as she could.
For one second, my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.
Then the taxi driver opened the trunk.
And Nia reached for Noah's hand.
My heart nearly stopped.
"No!"
I dropped the grocery bag I was carrying and ran.
Oranges rolled across the driveway behind me.
Nia spun around.
Her face changed the instant she saw me.
"Marcus—"
I didn't let her finish.
I sprinted across the driveway, reached Noah before she could guide him toward the taxi, and pulled him into my arms.
His little body hit my chest so hard I nearly lost my balance.
"You are not taking my son!"
Noah immediately wrapped both arms around my neck.
That terrified me more than anything.
He wasn't reaching for his mother.
He was clinging to me.
Nia grabbed my forearm.
"Give him back."
"No."
"Marcus."
"I said no."
Her eyes flashed.
"Put him down."
Noah started crying harder.
"Daddy, don't."
Everything inside me went cold.
I moved one hand to the back of his head.
"I'm right here, buddy."
Nia stared at him.
"Noah."
He buried his face against my shoulder.
She looked embarrassed.
Then angry.
"You're scaring him."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Me?"
"You came running out here screaming."
"You were putting our child into a taxi without telling me."
"I didn't need your permission."
That sentence landed like a punch.
For six years, I had been there for every fever, every school meeting, every nightmare, every scraped knee.
Noah slept under my roof.
His drawings covered my refrigerator.
His bicycle sat beside my garage.
And his mother was standing in our driveway telling me she didn't need my permission to take him away.
I tightened my arms around him.
"Where were you taking him?"
Nia said nothing.
"Where?"
"That isn't your concern."
I laughed once, but there was nothing funny in it.
"The location of my six-year-old son isn't my concern?"
The taxi driver glanced toward us through the windshield.
Nia lowered her voice.
"Stop making a scene."
"You already made one."
She reached for Noah again.
"Come here, baby."
Noah jerked backward.
I saw it.
So did she.
Her hand stopped in midair.
I stared at my son.
His face was wet.
His breathing came in quick, frightened bursts.
"Buddy."
He looked at me.
"Did you want to go?"
Nia immediately stepped forward.
"Marcus, don't do this."
I didn't look at her.
"Noah, look at Daddy."
His eyes met mine.
"You can tell me the truth."
His lower lip trembled.
"Did you want to get in that taxi?"
He shook his head.
Slowly at first.
Then harder.
"No."
Nia went completely still.
I felt something ugly begin to rise inside me.
I turned toward her.
"You were taking him somewhere he didn't want to go."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
"I can't."
"Can't?"
My voice rose.
"Or won't?"
She looked toward the street.
That was when I noticed something else.
Nia wasn't just angry.
She was nervous.
Her fingers kept opening and closing beside her thigh.
She glanced at the taxi.
Then at the end of the block.
Then back at me.
It wasn't the behavior of a mother simply leaving after an argument.
It looked like fear.
But I was too furious to care.
I pointed toward the taxi.
"Take your suitcase."
Her eyes widened.
"What?"
"Get in the cab if that's what you want."
"Marcus—"
"But Noah stays here."
Her expression hardened.
"You don't get to decide that."
"Neither do you."
I set Noah down only long enough to kneel beside him.
He immediately stepped between my knees.
I wiped his cheeks.
"You're okay."
He nodded, although he clearly wasn't.
"Nobody is making you go anywhere right now."
He hugged me.
I wrapped both arms around him.
Behind us, I heard Nia's suitcase wheels scrape against the concrete.
For one hopeful second, I thought she was leaving.
Then she spoke.
"You think you're protecting him."
I looked over my shoulder.
She stood beside the taxi.
Her face had changed.
The anger was gone.
What remained looked almost like desperation.
"I am protecting him."
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"You're making this worse."
I stood slowly.
"Worse than secretly taking him?"
"Marcus, please."
That word stopped me.
Nia almost never said please.
Not anymore.
Our marriage had been dying for nearly a year.
We argued about money.
Schedules.
Her unexplained absences.
The way she suddenly started locking her phone.
I had suspected another man.
I had suspected debt.
I had suspected almost everything except what was happening now.
"Tell me where you were going."
Her gaze shifted to Noah.
Then back to me.
"I can't tell you out here."
"Then we go inside."
"No."
"Why?"
She looked toward the street again.
I followed her gaze.
Nothing moved except leaves in the afternoon wind.
But Nia's face went pale.
She grabbed the suitcase handle.
"I have to go."
"Without Noah."
She closed her eyes.
For a few seconds, she looked like she was fighting with herself.
Then she turned toward the taxi.
Noah squeezed my hand.
"Mommy?"
Nia froze.
The pain on her face was real.
She turned back.
"I love you, baby."
"Then why were you making me leave Daddy?"
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I waited.
So did Noah.
Finally she whispered, "Because I thought I had to."
My anger faltered.
"What does that mean?"
She took one step toward us.
"Marcus..."
I stood directly in front of Noah.
Her eyes met mine.
And for the first time that afternoon, I saw tears gathering in them.
"You don't know why I was taking him."
"Then tell me."
She looked past me toward our house.
Then toward the taxi driver.
Then toward the road.
Her voice dropped until I could barely hear it.
"If I tell you, you won't let me leave."
My stomach tightened.
"Try me."
She shook her head.
"No."
"Nia."
"I can't."
Noah grabbed the back of my sweatshirt.
I felt his fingers trembling.
That settled it.
Whatever game Nia was playing, I wasn't letting our son become part of it.
"You leave if you want."
I pointed toward the taxi again.
"But Noah stays with me."
Nia stared at me for a long moment.
Then something inside her seemed to collapse.
She pulled the suitcase toward the cab.
The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.
I knelt again and hugged Noah.
He sobbed into my shoulder.
"It's okay."
I rubbed his back.
"Daddy's here."
Nia placed one hand on the taxi door.
Then stopped.
Her shoulders rose with one sharp breath.
She turned around.
"Marcus."
I looked up.
Her eyes were full of fear.
Not anger.
Not resentment.
Fear.
"You don't know why I was taking him."
My pulse slowed.
"What are you talking about?"
She glanced toward the end of the street.
Then she whispered words that changed everything.
"I wasn't running from you."
My arms tightened around Noah.
Nia swallowed.
"I was running because of what I found in your brother's house."
I stared at her.
"My brother?"
She nodded.
"And if Daniel realizes I told you..."
May you like
Her voice broke.
"He'll come here."
