Chapter 3 - THE BAT
Noah’s left forearm had swollen badly.
He was trembling.
I crouched carefully.
“Can I hug you?”
He nodded.
I wrapped one arm around him without touching the injury.
“I came.”
“You were far.”
“I know.”
“Uncle Derek came first.”
I looked at my brother.
His lip was bleeding slightly.
“What happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
One officer answered for him.
“Mr. Hayes attempted to swing the bat at your brother.”
My eyes moved toward Travis.
He stood beside a patrol car.
“You hit my son?”
“Your kid fell down the stairs.”
Noah buried his face against me.
The officer stepped between us.
“Sir, stay with your child.”
Good advice.
Because I had never wanted to hurt another human being more.
I turned away.
An ambulance arrived.
Paramedics examined Noah and immobilized his arm.
One asked gently:
“How did you hurt this?”
Noah looked at me first.
That broke my heart.
Not because he needed permission to tell the truth.
Because some adult had apparently taught him he did.
“You can tell her.”
He whispered:
“Travis hit me.”
“With what?”
“The baseball bat.”
“Where?”
Noah pointed toward his arm.
“Was it one time?”
He nodded.
“Did anything else happen?”
“He yelled.”
The paramedic didn’t push further.
At the hospital, X-rays confirmed a fracture.
A clean one.
Painful.
Treatable.
No surgery.
I held onto those words.
Treatable.
No permanent damage expected.
Derek remained with me until a detective arrived.
The detective asked him exactly what happened inside.
Derek told the truth.
He found Noah locked in the bathroom.
Travis blocked them.
Derek tried to leave.
Travis retrieved the bat and swung at him.
Derek deflected it, took Travis to the ground and restrained him until officers entered.
“You struck him?”
“No.”
“You’re trained?”
“Used to fight competitively.”
The detective looked at the responding officers.
One nodded.
“Body camera starts after entry. Suspect was on the floor. Mr. Morgan had backed away.”
Derek looked at me.
“I told you.”
Control.
That was why I called him.
Not because he knew how to fight.
Because he knew when not to.
Then the hospital-room door opened.
Lena rushed inside.
Her face was white.
She looked at Noah’s cast.
Then at me.
“Oh my God.”
I stood.
“Where were you?”
She stopped.
“I went shopping.”
“You left our four-year-old alone with Travis?”
Her eyes filled.
“I was gone forty minutes.”
“You left him alone with Travis.”
“I didn’t know this would happen.”
Before I could answer, Noah looked at his mother and whispered:
May you like
“Yes, you did.”
The room went silent.
