JD barely had ti to put the truck in park before Joanne flung the door open and jumped out.
"Damn it, Joanne," he muttered, slamming the brakes right in the middle of the road.
She was already walking toward the kids, her voice warm and inviting. "Hey, guys!"
The oldest boy stiffened, clutching the toddler tighter against his chest. His other hand gripped his little sister’s wrist as he took a cautious step back. Then, without warning, he turned and bolted, dragging the younger two with him.
Joanne didn’t hesitate.
"You’re Tommy, right? Tommy Walsh?" she called out, hurrying after them.
JD frowned. Walsh? The na rang a bell. He stepped out of the truck, watching as Joanne slowed her approach, her voice softening.
The boy hesitated, panting hard. His backpack sagged on his small fra, the weight slowing him down. He couldn’t outrun her, not while pulling his sisters along.
"I’m Timothy and I’m not going back to my father’s house," he blurted out, his voice sharp with defiance.
Joanne stopped a few steps away, hands open, non-threatening. "That’s okay," she assured him. "Do you want to co with ? Do you know who I am?"
The boy eyed her warily, his chest still heaving from the short sprint. "I know you..." His voice wavered with uncertainty. "You’re Jo... I’ve seen you before. You own McDonald’s farm."
Joanne smiled. "That’s right."
JD walked closer, and the boy imdiately tensed again, his arms tightening around the toddler. Joanne caught JD’s eye and subtly shook her head. Stay back.
That’s when JD saw the marks.
Bruises.
Fading welts, dark against the boy’s thin arms. Dirt clung to his skin, streaked along his cheek like he’d wiped away tears with grimy fingers. His little sister’s dress was stained, her hair tangled. The toddler, no older than two, had dried snot on her upper lip and a sagging diaper that had long since needed changing.
JD exhaled through his nose. This was terrible.
Joanne, was not much shocked. She had seen this kind of thing before. Too many damn tis. So n, once they drowned themselves in alcohol, stopped being fathers. Stopped being human.
Joanne’s jaw clenched for a brief second before she masked it with a gentle smile.
She knew the Walsh family.
She knew about Ian Walsh—the father who used to be a decent man before his wife died last winter. Joanne still rembered the day it happened. A sudden illness. A funeral held too quickly. Ian had never been much of a sober man to begin with, but after his wife passed, he spiraled. His grief turned to rage, and his rage found easy targets—his children.
Last Joanne had heard, their aunt was supposed to take them in. Guess that hadn’t happened.
And now, here they were.
Alone.
On the side of the road.
Joanne crouched slightly, her voice gentle but firm. "Now, Timmy," she corrected herself after realizing she’d gotten his na wrong, "your little sister looks like she needs a diaper change. And your other sister looks pretty hungry. How about you co to my house? I’ll cook you guys a nice, warm al, and then you can go wherever you want to go."
Timmy’s shoulders twitched. He was torn.
"I’ve heard them coyotes howling at night," Joanne added, her voice casual. "They love picking off little humans."
JD barely suppressed a scoff. Fear tactics? It was a gamble, but Joanne knew these kids, knew this town.
The little girl, around seven, looked up. "Will you make mac and cheese?" she asked, rubbing her belly. "And atballs?"
JD saw the mont Joanne’s heart broke. She smiled, but her eyes were soft, full of sothing aching.
"And ice cream," she promised.
The girl lit up instantly. Before Timmy could stop her, she rushed toward Joanne, grabbing onto her shirt with tiny, desperate hands.
Timmy sighed, frustrated but outnumbered. He adjusted the toddler in his arms, peeking at Joanne one last ti before reluctantly following.
JD clenched his jaw, watching them.
What kind of father lets his kids end up like this?
It touched a nerve.
His parents had divorced when he was too young to rember, leaving him with only distant, hazy mories of his mother. His father was his everything. But then, when JD was seven, his father passed away. His little world had crumbled overnight, leaving him lost, adrift in a loneliness he didn’t yet understand.
But his grandfather had been there—his rock, the one who had held him up when everything else had fallen apart.
He could only hope these kids found soone, too. Soone to hold them up before the weight of the world crushed them completely.
His gaze shifted to Joanne, who now had the toddler cradled securely in her arms. The baby—barely two—had quieted, her tiny hands clutching at her shirt. The other two sat beside her, chewing on the snacks she had handed them from the truck’s glovebox.
And Joanne... she looked radiant, like she had found sothing precious in this simple mont of kindness. Her eyes shone with a warmth JD had rarely seen before.
She’s sothing else, JD thought, exhaling slowly. A person who gives without hesitation. Who carries the weight of the world because she doesn’t know how to turn away from those who need her.
Then, Joanne’s expression shifted, her gaze snapping toward the road.
"Slow down," she murmured, and JD instinctively lifted his foot off the gas. A patrol car sat parked just ahead.
"I think it’s Jas," she said.
JD didn’t know the guy well, but he knew enough—local cop, soone Joanne trusted. Still, as she gestured for him to stop, Timmy imdiately tensed.
"Don’t tell the cops!" the boy cried, his grip on the toddler tightening. "They’ll take us away! I don’t want to end up in foster care. They’ll separate us..."
His voice cracked on the last word. His eyes—sharp and defiant just monts ago—glistened with unshed tears.
Joanne’s heart clenched.
JD swallowed hard, forcing down the knot of frustration rising in his throat.
Why is there so much suffering in this world?
Why did good kids, innocent kids, have to bear the burden of the choices adults made?
Joanne reached back and gently squeezed Timmy’s knee.
"Okay," she said softly. "I won’t."
JD nodded and kept driving.
As they passed, Jas caught Joanne’s eye. She gave him a subtle, knowing look, and with a deep sigh, Jas let them go, driving off in the opposite direction.
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