Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Chapter Two

A tapping on my shoulder wakes me up, and I open my eyes to see Lucas' shadow standing in front of me. He's clutching his plush dinosaur close to his chest. He probably had a nightmare or something. I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up, facing him.

"What's up tough guy?" I whisper and grab him, sitting him next to me on the bed. I turn on my bedside lamp and see that he's been crying. With careful hands, I wipe his tears and wait for him to tell me what's wrong. His bottom lip trembles and his eyebrows are drawn tightly together.

"The noises." He says through staggered breaths. He starts crying again and I bring him in close to me, hugging him tightly against my body as he cries. My fingers rake through his hair in an attempt to calm him down, and try to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

There are police sirens nearby, maybe down the street? Which is odd, seeing as how they were there when I fell asleep. A few moments later I hear helicopters overhead, sounds like there might be two or three but I can't tell for sure. An uneasy pit in my stomach surfaces, and I nudge Ryan awake. That man can sleep through anything, so it's no surprise Lucas' presence didn't disturb him.

Ryan groans and rubs his eyes, squinting them open in the soft light. He sees Lucas and I on the bed and sits up, suddenly alert.

"What's wrong?" He asks, clearing his throat. I usually never wake him up when Lucas comes to our room, unless Lucas specifically asks for his dad to put him back to bed.

"The noises." I repeat Lucas' words to Ryan, giving him a pointed stare as to tell him I am also concerned. Ryan must hear the sirens and he pushes the covers away, going over to our bedroom window to pull the curtains back so he can see outside.

"Holy shit." He sounds surprised, and I am as well. Ryan never swears in front of Lucas. Quickly, Ryan pulls the curtains back and I hug Lucas into my body, so that he can't see the silent conversation that I'm having with Ryan. A simple shared glance is enough to tell me that something is wrong. My heart drops to my stomach, but I force myself to stay composed for Lucas.

Ryan opens our closet and grabs our travel bags, unzipping them on the bed. His intense demeanor lets me know that something is seriously wrong, Ryan is always laid back and typically underreacts to situations. So if he's openly packing our bags, something is incredibly wrong. And I'm willing to bet the police sirens and helicopters have a lot to do with whatever is happening.

I grab Lucas and carry him through the house, sitting him on his bed and drying his tears once more. He sucks in sharp breaths between cries and holds his beloved plushie to his chest. I smile at him, trying to act casual and collected. I rearrange his hair and kiss his forehead,

"Do you want to see if you can go potty for me? I'll give you whatever sticker you want." I encourage him to use the bathroom before we leave, and I know he loves his reward for using the bathroom "like a big boy" he says. He nods his head and toddles off to the bathroom, giving me time to find a bag for him.

My hands shake as I open his closet and grab a duffel bag we use for his travelling needs. I set it on his bed and go through his wardrobe, picking short sleeved shirts, long sleeved shirts, long pants, short pants, pajamas, and plenty of extra socks and underwear. Luckily, his clothing is small and I can fit almost all of it in the bag. I don't know where we're going or how long we'll be gone, but I want to be sure Lucas will be taken care of. I zip the duffel bag and grab an old diaper bag out of his closet, packing some pull-ups for emergencies if we need them and make room to pack some snacks for him.

While Lucas is still in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen and pack his favorite puff snacks, fruit snacks, and anything else I know he likes that won't go bad in the bag. For good measure, I pack some water bottles as well. When I return to Lucas' room he's back from the bathroom and I smile, picking him back up with trembling hands.