"Yes," I choke, turning to meet her exhausted eyes. "Wendy, I—"
"I'll drop them off this weekend so you can have them. We can do every other weekend until we get an official custody order. You still have access to the calendar for their appointments. Liam's basketball practices and Noah has art class on Saturday mornings at the community center. He has friends there, and he hates missing it. Please, for the love of God, check the calendar."
"I will," I whisper, nodding pathetically.
"Go pack your things, Atlas," Wendy says, her voice completely empty, stripped of anger and hope alike.
She brushes past me and heads up the stairs. I watchher until she disappears from my sight, until I hear Liam's bedroom door open and close, until I can hear the muffled sounds of Super Mario and Noah's belly laughs.
Heavy steps sound behind me, so familiar, and my spine instantly tenses. When I turn around to meet my dad's eyes, his face is a stone mask of rage.
"Dad—"
He cuts me off with a low growl.
"Pack your shit. Now. You have ten minutes. And then you get your ass in my car. We're gonna go for a little ride."
Chapter Fifteen
Wendy
November
Taking deep breaths, I try to gather myself as much as I can, not wanting to fall apart in front of my sons.
There's something else happening inside of me, something quieter, but no less powerful.
A lightness creeps in—a fragile relief that I cling to. It feels a lot better than the misery and disappointment of the past year.
I need to make sure my boys are okay.
From the look on my oldest's face, I think he put together the pieces, or at least has started to.
Atlas has a long, uphill battle back to his sons. I will help, however I can. I won't badmouth their father, but I won't make excuses for him either.
Atlas will have to want to change, and more importantly, he will have to actually be present to make those changes.
All I can do is support him as much as I can and be there to catch my sons if he breaks their hearts.
Gently knocking on Liam's door, I promise myself that I can collapse in two hours—maybe three—that's all I have to make it through.
Just a couple of hours.
The boys are sprawled across Liam's bean bags in front of his television, Nintendo Switch controllers clutched in their hands.
Noah giggles loudly as they race through Mario Kart, completely absorbed. Liam glances over at me with a concerned look, but I just give him a reassuring smile.
Noah's sufficiently distracted with his race, and Liam pulls his attention back to the game while I sit quietly on Liam's neatly made bed.
The picture on his bedside table catches my eye. In it, Liam is five, smiling brightly from his daddy's shoulders, while baby Noah is cradled in my arms. Atlas has one hand on Liam to steady him, the other wrapped around us as we beam at the camera.
There are smudges on the glass, like Liam's been touching it with his fingers, and most of the smudges are over Atlas' face.
The memories from that photo wash over me like a warm hug.
Diane and Emmett rented a huge cabin in the mountains for the week. Silas and Carrie even came too, with Molly and Jem.
I can still hear Molly and Liam running around the cabin together, giggling and shrieking with laughter, while two-year-old Jem toddled after them, babbling all her new words.
