When Poppy had told him she wanted to report her dad for domestic abuse, he'd wanted to support her—but only if she was really ready for it.

“That’s great, Pops,” he’d said. “But why now?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Because of Will.”

Ryan had bristled. “What do you mean?”

“Some of the stuff he said to me that last night… I don’t know, it put what my mom goes through into a new perspective I guess. I mean, it’s not like I think it’s my job to protect her. Or wasn’t, at least. I know I couldn’t have done anything as a kid. But now…”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he’d asked her. “Have you talked to your mom about it?”

“No,” she’d said sharply. “I know she’ll just deny anything’s wrong, make excuses for him.”

“It’s going to be a tough road if she’s not on track for it.”

“Even if she gets mad at me, even if I don’t know, she never forgives me… I know it’s the right thing to do.”

He'd beamed at her, and had been right by her side when she'd gone to the station in her mom’s county to file the report.

“You got evidence of the abuse?” the officer had asked.

“You’ll know when you see her,” Poppy had said quietly.

The officer had raised her brows. “You know, that’s not always enough. Not if she’s not going to admit it—or press charges herself if an officer approaches her.”

“It’s all I can do,” Poppy had said.

“And what about you? He ever touch you? Statute of limitations is going to be long past for you to press charges against him yourself. But if it goes before a judge, your testimony might be a big help… ”

The officer had trailed off and looked at Poppy curiously. “Pops?” Ryan had prodded.

“Yeah. He used to hit me, too,” she’d said quietly.

“You willing to go on record with that?”

Poppy had looked at the officer, then to Ryan. He'd nodded at her, told her it was okay with his eyes.

“I can do that,” she had said.

“Alright then. Sign here. And here. We’ll dispatch a car later today. This the best number for you? I’ll give you a call when it’s done.”

Ryan had been impressed by how quickly the police had moved, but maybe that was how things happened in a small town. They never got the details of exactly what happened at the house, and Poppy never questioned her mother about it. All they knew is that the same day the police were dispatched to the house, her father was arrested.

Even though her mom had pressed charges, she'd still been at the police station and bawled as her dad was processed in the system.

Ryan was elated for Poppy, but it wasn’t all smooth sailing. He’d been at Poppy’s side when her mom had called the day after the arrest. “How could you?” her mom had screamed so loudly into the phone even he could hear her.

“Mom, I’m sorry! I did it for you! I didn’t want to see you—”

“Why couldn’t you mind your own business? What am I supposed to do now?”

Poppy had started crying into the phone, and Ryan had put a protective arm around her. “You want me to talk to her?” he had mouthed. He couldn’t tell if she'd nodded or not, but she'd handed the phone to him.

“Mrs. Baker?”

“Ryan? What on earth… what are you…”

He could hear her mom try to pull it together on the other end of the line. Even then, with her husband in jail and as her daughter fell apart, she wanted to put on the show of the perfect housewife. “Poppy did it to help you. I know just how hard it was for her to make that decision. I hope you won’t be mad at her for it.”

“Ryan, thank you for trying to help, but this really isn’t any of your concern—”

“Actually, it is,” he’d said. “Now that Poppy and I are moving to Newark together, we—well, we wanted to invite you to come live with us. For as long as you like.” Poppy had picked her head up off his shoulder and looked at him in wonder.

“What? Poppy didn’t say anything about—”

“I know, I’m sorry. I ruined the surprise. She was going to tell you soon, but then things got a little crazy…”

“I see. Put my daughter back on the phone, please.”

He'd handed the phone to Poppy, who'd put it on speaker. “Mom?”

“Poppy, is this true? Did you want to ask me to come stay with you—even before all this?”

Poppy had looked at him, questions in her eyes, and he'd smiled. “Yes, Mom. Really. We’d both love for you to come with us.”

The other end of the line was silent. Finally, her mom had said, “Well, I don’t know. It would be a whole lot of packing…”

“I’ll help you, Mom,” Poppy had said.

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got your own entire apartment to pack—”

“It’s not that much.”

“And, oh, from what I hear, it’s not going to be a trial but we’ll still be going before a judge. I just don’t know—”

“We’re not moving for a few more weeks,” Poppy had said. “I’m sure it’ll all be settled before then.”

“Well. Okay then. But only if you’re sure. I don’t want to be a burden—”

“We want you there. Really.”

When they’d hung up the phone, Poppy had grinned at him in relief. “Thank you,” she'd said.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Everything.”