I turn my phone toward him, showing him the text. His eyebrows scrunch together as he reads it.
Sandy
I’ll be picking up the boys this Friday for Matt’s parenting time. He’s not feeling well. Let me know where you’d like to meet!
He flexes his jaw before his blue eyes meet mine. He slowly sets Dutton down on the floor.
“Hey, boys, you wanna go grab a snack from the pantry?”
“Yes! I wanna pick!” Dawson races toward the pantry, Dutton on his heels.
Duke turns back to me. The tears are threatening to fall again.
“Hey, hey. You don’t have to meet up with her, right? Didn’t the lawyer say you are only required to turn the kids over directly to Matt?”
I nod. “I guess so, but if she’s saying he’s sick and she’s just meeting me to get them, technically, saying no could be seen as me being high maintenance and difficult. I have to be careful with my perception to the judge.”
“How have they treated you?”
Previously, I would say not horrible.
That is, up until the run-in I had with his sister at the café. Now I’m wondering if Sandy has been playing me this whole time. Clearly, her daughter thinks I’m a whore, sleeping around, and her brother is the victim. I’ve been sent anonymous bullying messages about being a slut that I’m pretty sure were from his sister.
“I mean, not great for some of them. Sandy’s been nice, but I’m starting to question if it’s genuine. Someone has spread rumors around town that I slept around while we were still married.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t see why people who have blatantly disrespected you after he treated you so horribly should have any relationship with your kids. Why would you want those kinds of people influencing them? Just because they’re blood-related?”
I blink at him, shocked that he’s saying this. His family is so closely bonded. I would’ve thought he’d say something like,They’re his blood relatives; they deserve to be in their life even if y’all don’t get along. That seems to be what most people think.
“I agree. I don’t want them influencing the boys and trying to turn them against me. Some of them obviously think I’m the bad guy, so they’d certainly only talk negatively about me to them. It’s hard enough, raising them and dealing with him.”
A sigh of relief escapes me. He doesn’t think I’m evil for wanting to keep the boys as far away from Matt’s family as possible.
Still, a stab of guilt pangs my gut when I think of Sandy. She loves being their grandma. As far as I know, she hasn’t said anything bad about me.
“And of course, if they don’t see a problem with his behavior, they clearly don’t have any business helping him raise the boys,” Duke adds.
“Well, what do I say to her?”
I’ve been typing up different responses all morning, debating how to answer.
“Just say no,” he says, shrugging. “Or don’t even respond. Wait until you hear from him.”
I purse my lips, releasing a slow exhale. I wish the tightfeeling in my gut would go away, but I know it’s going to be here as long as I have to deal with the trauma of handing my kids over to my abuser who’s endangered them multiple times.
“What did you do the other night?” I lower my voice.
I know something happened. His knuckles are all torn up, and his mood has been off. Sometimes, I hate my intuition. I wish I could be blissfully unaware.
Surely, he wouldn’t have killed my ex-husband without telling me …
He smirks, curling his hand around my waist while his other one tugs on one of the curls framing my face. “I had a little chat with him.”
My stomach flips. “You what?”
“We talked for a bit about how I expect him to treat my girlfriend and her boys.”
I blink up at him, opening my mouth and then closing it while my brain scrambles to come up with a response.
