Nah, I could handle the Carvers. It was Michelle who scared me. She’d been so reserved, so unsure. Like she could take me or leave me. Yes, I’d made mistakes. I’d put the family in danger, lost my truck, and gotten in over my head, but I still believed in us. And I knew Michelle did too. She just needed reminding.
Michelle slid the key into the lock, and the door opened to Melanie and Lydia sitting in armchairs, wine glasses in hand, looking perfectly at home in their natural habitat. All they were missing was Bill and his hired muscle, waiting to finish whatthey’d started six years ago. Lydia’s face tightened when she saw me. The feeling was mutual. I stayed where I was, refusing to shrink under their polished stares. My eyes swept the room, searching for the only people who mattered.
Then I heard it: a thud, followed by a giggle.
“Daddy!”
Keith barreled around the corner, barefoot, with a smile that stretched for miles. Emma raced after him, her tiny legs working overtime to keep up. A woman hurried after them, close enough that I assumed she was a nanny.
I dropped to one knee, bracing as the kids collided with me. Keith’s arms locked around my neck while Emma plastered herself to my chest, reaching instinctively toward Michelle.
“Mommy’s hurting right now,” I said, getting back to my feet with two little bodies latched on. “So we’re gonna let her rest. But I’ll take all the hugs you’ve got.”
They didn’t hold back, packing a week’s worth of love into thirty seconds. Keith fired off questions like where I’d been, when we were going surfing, what happened to Mommy, and was he still starting school in the fall?
“Daddy,” Emma said in the sweetest little voice, her face tucked into my neck, her fingers patting my shoulder. “Why you leave me?”
“Aw, baby girl,” I whispered, pressing my cheek to her hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“Hey, what about me?” Michelle said, offering a small, careful smile, the first I’d seen since the accident. She opened her arms, just enough. Keith instantly repositioned and looped one arm around her, turning my hug into a lopsided family pile-up. Emma squealed. Michelle laughed, really laughed, and for a second everything else just… dropped away.
Michelle caught my eye, something bright flickering back on in hers. Before I could think better of it, I leaned in and kissedher. It was soft, quick, and entirely instinctive. Keith followed suit, planting his own kiss on his mom and stealing the moment. Emma clung harder to my neck, and for a moment, we were exactly what we were supposed to be. I knew Michelle felt it too. I reached across the small gap to brush her fingers with mine. Just a touch. Enough to remind us that underneath everything, we were still us.
“Can we go home now?” Keith asked, tugging on Michelle’s bad arm. She flinched.
“No touching!” Lydia snapped, motioning for the nanny to take him. “Your mother is injured.”
Keith recoiled, his eyes filling fast. He buried his face in my shirt and started to cry.
Michelle’s gaze cut to her mother. “Do not raise your voice at my son.”
“The boy needs to calm himself. There’s no reason for him to be pawing at you like that,” Lydia said, unmoved.
“Yes,” Michelle replied, calm and unwavering, “there is. He just turned five.”
Lydia stood, setting her drink down. “I was only trying to help.”
“It’s fine, Mother. Scott and I will handle the discipline.”
Hell, yes. My pride did a full fist pump. Michelle was back in charge, right where I wanted her to be.
Lydia’s lips tightened, but she didn’t push it. She shot me a glare that could melt bone, shook her head, and swept out of the room. Mirroring her mother, Melanie stood, setting her drink down as she rose. “I’ll give you both some privacy.”
Michelle walked her to the door, whispering something I couldn’t catch. They hugged, and just as Melanie was about to slip out, she pinned me with her eyes. I’d never felt her opinion of me before. Now I did. And it wasn’t neutral.
Gettingout of bed without waking the kids was like disarming a bomb in the dark. Emma’s leg was slung across my chest, Keith was snoring into Michelle’s hair, and a stuffed rabbit had claimed my armpit as its new home. One wrong move and we’d have two awake offspring demanding waffles at 2 a.m. We exchanged a silent, panicked look—then executed the slowest, most careful extraction in parental history. A creak, a held breath, a last-minute Hail Mary, and we were free.
Only once we were on the other side of the door did we allow ourselves to exhale. Michelle leaned against the wall, steadying herself. Her sling was tight around her shoulder, the bruising on her face giving her a hollowed look that had me a little worried.
“You okay?” I asked,
“I’m dizzy,” she said, reaching for me.
I wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her into the adjoining bedroom. The bed was oversized and far too luxurious for a working man like me. Michelle eased down carefully, propped herself against the headboard and swept her hair over one shoulder. I climbed onto the bed beside her.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence pressed in. She broke it first.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
