Darlene leaned forward, her jaw tight. “Our father carried pressure like a second job, and not once did he raise a hand to anyone. Stress is not an excuse to hurt the person who raised you.”
Jared looked at me again, and I saw the little boy he once was, hiding behind a man’s face. Fear and anger tangled inside him. “I cannot believe everyone is turning on me.”
“No one is turning on you,” I replied, my voice calm. “We are turning toward accountability.”
Sheriff Price explained the process, step by step. He mentioned counseling programs, court petitions, residential requirements if charges were filed. He spoke clearly and without haste. Jared’s hands shook, and every now and then he wiped his palms against his jeans as if the sweat embarrassed him.
Finally, Jared pushed himself up. “I will pack. I am leaving. I cannot stay here.”
Darlene nodded. “That is already in motion. My friend Harvey is coming with his truck.”
Jared’s expression hardened. “So that is it. Breakfast and betrayal.”
“No,” I answered, lifting my coffee cup. “Breakfast and boundaries.”