“I’m a little sad, and angry,” he murmurs, so softly I almost miss it.
“Because of what you heard?”
He nods, slowly. “That, and because of Dad.”
“Why are you upset with him?”
“Because he talks to me like I annoy him all the time. He’s not patient with me anymore. He snaps at me a lot more now. Sometimes I think he only spends time with me just to keep you or me quiet, but I know he wants to be somewhere else.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t know. I’ll talk to him.”
“There’s no point. He’s just going to make up excuses again, and he’s not going to change. I don’t want to spend the weekend with him anymore.”
“Oh, honey. I wish it were that simple. But there’s a court order in place, and I can’t just keep your dad from seeing you without a judge approving it first.”
“Well, Pop is a judge. He can approve it.”
“No, sweetie,” I chuckle softly. “He’s not that kind of judge, and he can’t sign off on it because he’s family. The courts won’t allow that.”
His gaze falls to his hands, disappointment settling heavily over his features.
“We’ll work something out, okay,’ I reassure him. “I don’t want you to worry. I promise you, I’ll take care of it.”
He nods, his gaze still lowered. “Are we never going to see Kaden anymore?” he says, almost sadly.
“I don’t know, baby. I’m not happy with him at the moment.”
“He looked really sad when Dad said all those things about him.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“But he made you more sad, didn’t he?”
I nod. “Yes, I wasn’t expecting to find out what I did, but now that I know, it’s made me very sad.”
“Is it true what he did?”
“Yes, he admitted to it. I also think Kaden has something more he wants to say.”
“I think you should hear it. Maybe you’ll understand him a little better.”
“Maybe. But I’m not ready to listen. Not just yet.”
He nods, his gaze softer now. “Whatever you choose, Mum, I’ll always be on your side.”
I smile back, warmth in my chest. “I know you will—just as I’ll always be on yours.”
A small, heartfelt smile breaks across his face, and I can see him relax just a little.
“What were you doing just then?” I ask, glancing at his open sketchbook.
“Drawing. I draw when I’m upset.”
“You’re getting better each time I see a new drawing in your book.”
“Kaden gave me some tips on how to make a building look a bit more real,” he explains, and my chest tightens even more.
I draw in a deep lungful of air, hoping the tightness will ease even just a little, but the ache still lingers.
