The crib Wyatt and Jesse had brought from storage stood assembled beside Dad’s room, but Jesse helped us arrange the approved bassinet in my room for the night so I could keep Paisley close on a separate safe sleep surface.

I sat on the bed and began to shake.

Dad knelt in front of me, as he had when I skinned my knees at six years old.

“Do you want me to call anyone?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you want him here?”

“No.”

“Then he won’t be here.”