What gets me isn’t the impact.
It’s the fury.
The betrayal in it.
The fear.
“Evan!”Thatcher shouts, already moving in hot.
“No,” I bark over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off the boy.“I’ve got it.”
This is delicate as hell.
And yeah—technically?It’s not my place yet.
But I’m not letting that kid accidentally shove Kelly to the ground in the middle of his meltdown.
“Easy, son.Easy,” I say, hands open at my sides.
Not grabbing him.Not restraining him.Just absorbing.
“I’m not your son!”he screams, another fist thudding into my gut.
“That’s fair,” I reply, steady as stone.“You’ve got a mom and a dad.I know that.”
He swings again.
I don’t flinch.
“But if you keep swinging like that,” I continue calmly, “you might accidentally hurt your mom.”
That gets through.Just a crack.
“And I don’t think you want that, Evan.Do you?”
His fist stalls midair.
His breathing is ragged.Face red.Eyes glassy.
Behind him, I can feel Kelly shaking.
And I swear to God, if Mike Stevens were standing here right now, feeding this fear into his kid—I’d break his jaw in a heartbeat.
But this isn’t about him.It’s about the boy in front of me.
I lower my voice.
“You’re mad,” I say quietly.“That’s okay.You get to be mad.But you can’t let your anger take control, or you might hurt someone.Yourself.Your mom.And I know that’s not what you want.”
He swallows hard.
“I’m not here to take anyone’s place,” I add, rough but honest.“I’m here because I care about her.And you are the most important thing to your mom, so that means I care about you, too.”
That’s when I see it.
Not just anger.Terror.
And that’s something I know how to handle.
