"Have you?" She tilts her head, that knowing look in her eyes. "You've been in the house, sure. But you've been... somewhere else. In your head. Far away." She pauses. "You look thinner, sweetheart."
I don't know what to say to that. She's right. I've barely been eating—the nausea, the headaches, the constant low-grade fever making everything taste like ash. But I can't explain that. Can't tell her why.
"School's been stressful," I manage. "Professor Montley's assignment. The library job."
"Mm." She doesn't sound convinced. "And that's all?"
The question hangs in the air between us. Heavy. Loaded. An invitation to tell her everything—the suppressants, the basement, Zero's hands on my body, the way I can feel myself unraveling hour by hour into something I can't control.
I open my mouth.
Close it.
"That's all," I say.
Margot is quiet for a moment. We've reached the dock now, the wooden planks stretching out over the dark water. Shestops at the edge, looking out at the lake, her face half-lit by moonlight.
"I know something's going on," she says. Not accusatory. Just gentle. Sad. "I can feel it. The tension in this house... it's not just between Richard's boys. There's something else. Something no one's telling me."
My chest aches. Actually aches, like someone has reached in and wrapped a fist around my heart.
"Mom—"
"You don't have to tell me." She turns to look at me, and her eyes are bright. Wet. "I'm not going to force it out of you. I just want you to know that I'm here. Whatever it is. Whatever you're carrying. You don't have to carry it alone."
I can't do this.
I can't stand here and let her comfort me whenI'mthe one ruining everything. When the fight upstairs was about me. When the tension she's sensing is my fault—my body, my secret, my inability to control what I am.
"What about you?" I ask, deflecting. Desperate to turn the focus anywhere else. "How are things with you? With Richard?"
Her expression shifts. Softens. The worry doesn't disappear entirely, but something else rises up beneath it—something warm and genuine and painfully bright.
"Good." She says it simply. Like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Really good, Max."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She takes a breath. Lets it out slowly. "I know it hasn't been easy. This move, this house, these boys. It's a lot. For all of us. But Richard..." She shakes her head slightly, smiling. "He makes me happy. In a way I wasn't sure I could be again. Not after Daniel. Not after everything."
I swallow. The ache in my chest deepens. Her husband who passed away before she adopted me.
"I'm glad," I manage. And I mean it. I do. Because she deserves this—the big house, the kind husband, the sense of security she's didn’t have before. She deserves someone who looks at her the way Richard does, like she's precious, like she matters.
"And this family," Margot continues, her voice going soft. "I know it's unconventional. I know it's complicated. But I really believe we can make it work. All of us. Together." She reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Her hand is warm. Familiar. The same hand that was always kind, never raised to me in anger. "I want you to be happy here, Max. I want you to feel like you belong."
The guilt hits me so hard I nearly choke on it.
She's standing here telling me about her happiness, her hope, her belief in this fragile new family—and I'm keeping secrets that could shatter all of it. My existence is a threat to everything she's built. My body is a ticking time bomb. And the longer I stay, the more damage I'll do.
"I'm trying," I whisper. It's not a lie. It's not the truth either. It's something in between—a desperate, fraying thread of intention that doesn't mean anything when I can't control what's happening to me.
"I know you are." Margot cups my face in her hands. Looks at me with so much love it makes my eyes sting. "That's all I ask."
We stand there for a moment. Mother and son. The lake lapping softly against the dock pilings. The moon casting long shadows across the water.
Then Margot shivers slightly and wraps her arms around herself.
"It's getting cold," she says. Then, with a small smile: "I bought a gallon of cookie dough ice cream at the store today. Thegood kind, with the big chunks. Want to come inside and split it with me?"
