“Morning, little man.”
“Morning,” he said, the word muffled.
“Rough night?” I teased when he leaned back to look at me, face scrunched up.
“I miss my friend, Avalee.”
Quinn gasped in my ear. “Me too, me too! I miss her too. Why doesn’t she come over anymore?”
Because I hate her mom.
She destroyed everything.
I cleared my throat and struggled for an answer when every one coming to mind needed to be kept from my kids.
“All right, let’s get ready for the day, yeah?” I said, dismissing the Avalee thing completely. Grabbing one of Quinn’s hands, I lowered her to the floor, then nodded toward the door. “Y’all use the bathroom and get changed while I get your brother.”
The last words came out softer and softer as the door pushed open more to reveal my wife and our youngest son, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe she was seeing me there.
“Mommy, look,” Quinn said as she bounced past me. “Daddy’s here!”
Savannah blinked quickly and forced her attention to Quinn, a shaky smile crossing her face. “I know, I see that.” Her eyes darted to me before shifting back to the kids. “Do what he said. I’m gonna get started on breakfast for everyone.”
Wyatt followed after her, spinning and kicking and pretending he was holding a lightsaber, but Quinn just turned to face me, looking so confused and so damn sad.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as she slowly made her way over to me.
“I thought Mommy would be happy now that you’re not busy anymore, but she isn’t.”
Fuck.
A dull knife tearing through my chest.
That’s what her words and her sadness felt like.
I crouched down to get on her level and tried to keep my voice even. “There are a lot of guests in the house right now, and Momma’s taking care of them and taking care of y’all. It’s okay if she doesn’t seem happy, she just has a lot going on.”
“But she’s never happy anymore,” Quinn said, then leaned closer to whisper, “She’s been making desserts and stuff without playing music. And she doesn’t dance. And she doesn’t ask if we want to bake with her anymore or if we want to lick the spoons from the desserts she makes.”
My grip on the mug tightened to the point I thought it might shatter in my hand.
My body trembled as my daughter laid out a perfect picture of how hurt Savannah was.
I forced myself to look into Quinn’s eyes to reassure her. “She isn’t trying to exclude y’all, you know Momma would never do that. And everything else?” I clenched my teeth tightly when my jaw shook. With a slow breath out, I said, “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
“You promise?”
My head moved in a slow nod as I looked right into my daughter’s eyes and lied. “Promise.”
She beamed at me as she turned and darted out of the room, and I fell to a sitting position, head hanging low and my body shaking uncontrollably as all that pain fueled something else inside me.
I forced myself to sit in it.
To feel the way it moved over me and consumed me. Everything tinted a familiar red as that sickening need coursed through my veins. Begging me to give in. To react. To lash out at something. Anything.
Accepting every second of that darkness until it was gone.
Pushing to my feet, I started out of Wyatt’s room and had to sidestep him when he came running through like a little speed demon.
“I’m so fast!” he yelled as he went by, stopping on a dime and whirling around. “Can I see my Avalee friend now? I brushed-ed my teeth. See!” He tilted his head back and bared all his teeth.
“I do see.” I ruffled his hair, carefully avoiding the question as I said, “Get changed.”
But I hadn’t made it more than a few steps down the hall before he popped up next to me and begged, “Can I see her now?”
I slowly lowered my mug and swallowed the sip I’d taken before looking down at him. “I’ll see what I can do.” Before he could finish the victory fist-pump, I hurried to add, “No promises.”
He paused for only a second before continuing, never once looking like I’d said anything less than yes as he took off for his room.
By the time I made it downstairs, the sounds and smells of Savannah cooking were filling the house.
All of it so familiar and comforting and finding pieces of what was left of my heart to break.
That could’ve been the last time I walked down the stairs to that comfort, and it was tearing me up inside. I hated that I hadn’t drawn it out. That I hadn’t committed every part to memory.
But I was already in the kitchen and struggling not to look at the girl moving like a robot in front of the range when she was usually swaying and dancing.
I rinsed out my mug and put it in the dishwasher as my stare continued dragging back to her. My heart thumping painfully at the sight of her.
My world.
My world.
My world.
“Dadda, Dadda,” Levi babbled before screeching impatiently and pulling my attention to where he was sitting in his high chair.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmured as I went to him, lifting him up and hitching him on my waist. “Wanna go somewhere?”
He screeched again before falling into a fit of laughter.
“That sounded like a yes.” I lifted my hand. “High five.” As soon as he smacked it, I grabbed his hand in mine and lifted it to blow a raspberry on his arm, earning another belly laugh.
Turning with him in my arm, I walked through the kitchen, pulling things out of cabinets and drawers that Savannah would need. Plates and bowls. Glasses and mugs. Silverware and serving utensils. Once everything was out and where she generally set them up, I walked over to her but forced myself to stop before I could get so close that I’d forget I couldn’t pull her against me.
Couldn’t hold her and kiss her.
“Do you need anything?”
Her head shook a few times before she muttered, “No.”
I studied the rigid way she held herself and the strain on her beautiful face. As if she’d spent so much time crying and was fighting more tears then.
And all of it was on me.
“All right,” I said, clearing my throat, “I’m taking the kids.”
She looked up, her head snapping to the side and eyes going wide. “What—no!” Her head shook quickly. “You can’t. No.”
I rubbed at my jaw with my free hand as her shock and fear mixed with her refusal and slammed into me.
Taking the kids on a weekend like then wasn’t uncommon. When there was a house full of guests, I usually took the kids out for a few hours when they started getting restless so they could go crazy without having to worry about disturbing people.
But her reaction?
Shit.
That was personal.
“I’m taking the kids for the morning,” I said slowly as she continued shaking her head, her expression pleading.
“Please don’t—”
“They need to get out.”
“Don’t take my kids,” she softly begged. “Not right now. Not today. Not with—” Her throat shifted with her forced swallow, her stare darting around.
“I’m not taking our kids from you,” I said, voice low and coated with ice.