Brian, something’s wrong. Brad’s hurting Tyler. I’m 20 minutes away. I need you to go in now.
Within seconds, Brian replied.
On it. Don’t worry. I’m closer.
My chest burned with fear. I paced in the hallway outside the meeting room, trying to shake off the feeling of helplessness. My mind raced as I thought about everything Brad could be doing to my son in those moments.
I was so far away. So far away from him.
As I rushed toward the elevator, I could barely get a grip on the reality of what I was facing. This wasn’t a scuffle. This wasn’t a minor incident. My son had been struck with a baseball bat. Brad had threatened him.
The elevator doors dinged open, and I raced toward the exit. My phone buzzed again, and this time it was a message from Brian.
I’m kicking the door down. Stay on the phone.
I didn’t even respond. I just ran.
The drive felt like hours. Every second stretched out. Every car in front of me felt like an obstacle, a delay. I pushed the pedal down harder, faster.
My phone rang again. Brian.
“Brian, what’s happening?” I demanded, my voice tight with fear.
“Nothing yet,” he replied. “I’m a couple of minutes away from the house, but I’ve got eyes on the place. Brad’s inside. Tyler’s in there too. But I’m not going in without a plan.”
I clenched my jaw, knowing Brian had been trained for situations like this. He didn’t act without thinking, and that’s exactly why I needed him. But the longer it took for him to get there, the more I feared for Tyler.
“You need to go in now!” I snapped.
“I’m going in,” Brian said calmly. “But I need you to keep your head. This isn’t a cage fight. I’m not just going to throw punches.”
I understood that. But the thought of my son hurt, and me being too far away to protect him—it gnawed at my insides.
“I’m almost there,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’ll be there soon.”
