IMOGEN'S POV
I smoothed the freshly ironed sheets around Joseph as he curled up tight in bed. He hadn't spoken since we got home, his small body tense beneath the covers.
I tucked the blanket under his chin, brushing a hand over his forehead. He didn't look at me, just stared past my shoulder at the wall.
"Your blonde hair looks nice," he said quietly. "Like in those old photos you hide."
My breath caught in my throat.
"Thank you," I whispered, my hand still resting in his hair.
For a moment, I thought that was all. But then, Joseph looked like he still had more to say.
"Why aren't you talking about it?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"About what, baby?"
"The fight at school."
I kept my hand on his head, grounding both of us. "You told me you didn't cut her hair. I believe you."
His fingers twisted at the edge of the blanket. "I don't want to go back tomorrow."
"Why not?" I asked, keeping my voice low, gentle.
