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“It happened after the bell rang, and I was already there to get him,” she explains. “But you’ll want to go down there and talk to the principal.”

“No, you don’t,” Charlie says and shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re injured, my love. Yes, it’s a big deal.”

“I’m going to go home,” Mildred says with a wink to my son. “I have my book club tonight. You tell your mama what happened so she can take care of it, sweet boy.”

He nods solemnly, and when I hear the front door shut behind her, I pick him up and carry him out to the living room. I put him on the couch, and I sit on the coffee table facing him so I can see his face. He looks so little, and I want to burn the whole world to the ground at the audacity of anyone who’d dare lay their hands on my boy.

“I’m listening. But first, you’re not in trouble.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t want to look me in the eyes. “You know Lucas in my class?”

The little shit who doesn’t like to keep his hands to himself? Yeah.

“What did Lucas do?”

“He said I’m so stupid that my dad didn’t want to be my dad, so he died.”

And that’s the sound of my heart falling out of my chest and shattering into a million pieces. Why are kids so damn cruel?

“Baby, that’s not true.”

“I know. Lucas is an asshole.”

I press my lips together and take a breath because he’s not wrong, but he also can’t talk that way.

“Sweetie, you know you can’t say that word.”

“What other word am I supposed to use?” His face pulls into a scowl, one that looks so much like Carson’s that my heart squeezes.

“You can say that he’s mean or that he’s a jerk.”

“He’s a mean jerk.”

I nod in agreement. “I can live with that. Did you push him or something for saying that?”

“No, I tried to walk away, but he pushed me down, and I hurt my knees and my elbow.”

“He didn’t punch or kick you?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, baby.” He holds his hands out for me, so I scoop him up and sit with him on the couch. “What do you want for dinner to make you feel better?”

“Ice cream?”

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “What flavor?”

“Chocolate with chocolate sauce and sprinkles.”

“Okay.”

I cuddle him closer and breathe him in. There’s still a touch of the baby smell here because of his kids shampoo, but I know that it won’t be long before that’s gone for good.

Life is short and fleeting, and if he wants ice cream after a bully not only knocked him down but made him feel like shit because his daddy’s dead, well, he can have fucking ice cream.

“Should we go to our favorite spot?”