“Definitely. He always wants you with him. Even when you’re at your mommy’s. He loves you so much that he misses you every second of every day and wishes you were with him.”
“You really think so?”
“I know it.”
He swallows hard. “Then why can’t I just stay here? With you and him?”
A knot forms instantly in my throat. My pulse jumps. Oh God, where is Wyatt? I’m not qualified for this. I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I run my fingers through Caleb’s hair, searching for words that won’t cut more than they heal. “Because if your daddy did that, you’d miss your mommy. And your mommy would miss you. Sometimes Daddy has to share you—even when he doesn’t want to. He does that because he loves you enough to let everyone who loves you have time with you.”
Caleb’s lips tremble. “I don’t really want him to share me. Mommy doesn’t even like me.”
His words slice through me like a blade—sharp, precise, burning as it cuts, cauterizing everything it touches so my heart keeps beating yet somehow feels hollow afterward—echoing with grief that’s not mine and yet sits heavy in my bones.
“Oh, sweetheart …” My voice breaks. “That isn’t true. No one could have a son like you and not love you with their whole heart. You’d make her horribly sad if you weren’t in her life. Daddy knows that. That’s why he shares you—so she isn’t missing out on your love.”
He shakes his head slowly, defeated.
“Mommy doesn’t want me. She told me she wished I had never been born.”
My heart stutters painfully in my chest.How could anyone say that to this beautiful child?“I think you misunderstood her,” I murmur, praying I’m right. If I’m not, then Caleb’s mother is truly a monster.
“I didn’t!” he cries, voice cracking. “She was mad at Dad because he wouldn’t give her more child sport.”
Support. He means support. If he weren’t breaking apart right in front of me, that slip would’ve made me smile. Instead, I open my arms, offering him the only comfort I know how to give him.
“Come here.”
He launches himself at me, sobbing into my shoulder. Buddy whines loudly, distressed, shifting on his chair like he wants to help but doesn’t know how. And suddenly … The air changes. It thickens. Gets Heavy. Becomes Angry.
I look up—and freeze. Wyatt stands in the doorway, fists clenched at his sides. His face is a storm—rage, pain, fury so sharp it could split the room in half. His eyes are on Caleb in my arms. On Caleb crying. On me holding him.
“I—Wyatt—” My voice is shaky. I don’t want him to think this is my fault.
But before I can explain, Caleb jerks his head up, sees him, and cries out, “Daddy, I want to stay here with you and Gwen!”
Wyatt draws in a breath that rattles his entire chest. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, rough, and scraped raw.
“Come here, son.”
I help Caleb slide down. He runs straight into Wyatt’s arms. Wyatt picks him up immediately, holding him so tight I can feel it across the room.
“Wyatt—” I try again.
He looks at me … then shakes his head while mouthing two words.Not now.
He carries Caleb to the island and sets him gently on the counter. Buddy jumps down, nails clicking on the floor, pacing anxiously. I think I even hear him snarling. He doesn’t like Caleb hurting … neither do I.
“Look at me, Caleb.”
Caleb lifts his head, eyes swollen and red. The sight nearly knocks the air out of my lungs. He looks broken. Like a little boy carrying more weight than he should ever have known existed.
“Does your mom tell you that crap often?” Wyatt asks, voice low.
Caleb nods. “I try to be good, Daddy. But Mommy says I’m nothin’ but twubble. I swear, Daddy, I try not to be. I even m-m-make my bed.” His voice cracks, and he folds into Wyatt, sobbing. “I wanna stay here. If you tell me how to be good, I won’t be twubble. Please?”
Buddy wails—a tiny, heartbroken sound—and leaps up, wedging himself between father and son. Wyatt loosens his hold just enough for Buddy to reach Caleb’s face, licking him in frantic little strokes.
Caleb clings to both of them, shaking.
