Unfortunately, before I can get control of this situation, my son ignites, months and months of bitterness reaching a breaking point.
"Hi, Dad!" Liam's voice is a snarl, his lip curled as he glances back and forth between his father and the blonde woman, who looks rather shocked at my son's words.
"Mama's just dropping us off... or should we just leave you andheralone?"
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Atlas
How could such a good day turn to shit so quickly?
I woke up this morning, feeling a lot better than I have in a long time. I didn't have a single nightmare last night, which I haven't been able to say in a very long time.
Wendy and I are communicating really well—the phone call after I had that nightmare warms my chest. My wife just stayed with me through it, talking to me even though I just woke her up in the middle of the night.
It just makes me feel that much more motivated to fix things, because how could I ever let go of this kind, caring woman? I'm the luckiest bastard on this earth.
And today is the day I can start repairing the relationship with my sons. This is the first weekend that I'll spend with them.
The court gave me a couple of weeks to adjust to being back home, but my therapists think that it's time, and that it will be good to start repairing things.
No way in hell will this be my future—divorced from my wife, only seeing my kids on the weekends and every other holiday. I know divorce isn't necessarily a bad thing for some people, but... it's not happening for Wendy and me.
I love Wendy.
I know I didn't show it this last year, but I know to the very marrow of me that Wendy is the only woman I'll ever want.
I'm going to show her that. I'm going to rebuild myrelationship with my sons. I'm going to earn back my family's trust. I'm going to prove myself to them.
To do that, I need to be present more. I can't bury myself in work to hide. I can't escape on the weekends with Trace at whatever house he's working on.
I already texted my best friend that I was home and doing better, which he was happy to hear. I know he was concerned and had no idea how to express it, as he keeps his feelings incredibly close to his chest.
I've been going to work, attending every therapist appointment, taking my meds, and spending time with my parents.
And things have been good.
Michelle is the assistant manager my dad hired at the shop. She's my mom's age, with short black hair and a no-nonsense attitude.
When my dad initially talked to me about taking over the business one day, I firmly told him that I needed my hands to remain greasy, that working on cars is comforting to me. Especially now.
He said a good boss always leads by example and never asks his employees to do something he wouldn't do.
Thankfully, Michelle has taken a huge burden off my back with handling the mind-numbing paperwork.
Unfortunately, it is Friday, her designated day off and my dad called me and told me that my mother is in the hospital.
Shit.
"Aubree!" I call out and hear the click-click of her heels as she walks into the office. I barely glance up from the laptop, already pulling up the schedule.
"Everything okay?" she asks me with a smile on her face.
"We have to move all my afternoon appointments," I tell her, already moving the ones I know won't have a problem. Some of our clients are older and only trust Durant hands to work on their cars. "I have to leave early."
She blinks. "...early?"
"Yes. Can you start moving them to the other guys?" I tell her, not even glancing up. "Move them to Jason or Pat's schedule for tomorrow. Bryce can handle the brakes on the Toyota this afternoon, that'll take him like twenty minutes."
