He made a decision right there, one born from a code he’d carried since the battlefield: Leave no one behind.

Jake’s truck rattled down the dirt road toward his cabin. Lily sat rigid in the passenger seat, Ben in her lap. Duke rode in back, occasionally sticking his head through the window to check on them.

The cabin was nothing fancy—weathered wood, mismatched furniture, the faint smell of coffee in the air. But it was safe. Lily’s wary eyes swept the room, landing on a cross-stitch of the Lord’s Prayer hanging above the table.

Jake set down glasses of cold water. “If you want to tell me what happened, I’m listening. If not… that’s okay too.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Mama and Daddy… they’re gone. After the accident, we went to live in houses with other kids. They keep moving us. Now they want to put Ben in one house, me in another. I can’t let that happen.”

Jake made spaghetti. Lily watched him like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to believe there’d be enough. That night, he gave them his bed and took the couch. Duke curled protectively at their door.

Morning brought a car with county plates. Karen Holt, social worker—calm, professional, practiced at softening bad news.