“They say nasty stuff to Mom that makes her cry, and they tell me I have to get better grades. Grandpa got really mad when Justin said he didn’t want to play football. Sometimes, he yells.”

My fingers dug into the blanket covering all three of us. “Has your grandpa ever hit you?”

Lyla’s eyes widened. “No. He just says Mom needs to punish us more, so we learn our manners.”

The pizza I’d eaten a couple of hours ago felt as if it might come up. I swallowed and turned to Justin. “What about you?”

He shook his head and looked away. “Can they make us go with them?”

I took a slow breath. I wasn’t going to lie to these kids. That wasn’t the kind of relationship I wanted to build with them. And this wasn’t something I could shield them from entirely. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’ve got a lawyer, and she already filed the paperwork to request custody.”

Lyla gripped my arm. “I want to stay with you.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to do absolutely everything I can to make sure that happens.”

We sat there, quiet until the credits ran out. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was after nine. “I think it’s time to start moving in the direction of bed.”

Both Justin and Lyla were too lost in their thoughts to argue. I waited on Lyla’s bed until she’d brushed her teeth and then tucked her under the covers, kissing her forehead. “Love you, Lyla Bean.”

“Love you, too. Thanks for my pizza.”

“I think Fridays should be pizza nights from here on out.”

Her mouth curved. “I like it.”

Justin wandered in from the bathroom. “I’ll never say no to pizza.” He eyed me as I stood. “I do say no to being tucked in, though.”

I chuckled and held up both hands. “I promise, no tucking. I’ll be downstairs if you guys need me.”

I couldn’t resist leaving the door open a crack so I could hear Lyla if she cried or Justin if he had a nightmare. I quietly made my way down the steps to the living area. It was a disaster. Blankets and pillows. Pizza boxes and paper towels. I wrapped up the leftovers, put them in the fridge, and then stacked the boxes with the recycling.

As I moved to fold the blankets, my gaze caught on a figure at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s wrong, Jus? Can’t sleep?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers twisted together. “I lied.”

“Okay. Why don’t you come over here and tell me what you lied about? We can figure it out together.” I sank onto the couch and patted the seat next to me.