“Go to your room,” Derek said. “Not as a punishment; we just need to figure out where that ugliness came from.”
Nick backed out. The door down the hall slammed.
Derek leaned forward. “Has he ever said anything like that when I’m not here?”
“Not like that,” I said, and my voice surprised me — steady. “But it’s been building. And it’s not coming from him.”
Derek frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean those weren’t teenage words,” I said. “Derek, I want to see his phone.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t yell, Derek. He watches and corrects. It’s like he makes mental notes of everything I’m doing wrong.”
Derek looked straight at me. “And I didn’t see it.”
I gave a small shake of my head. “I’ve been trying to be easy with him. I know he misses his mom, and I’m not here to replace her. But this is exhausting.”
My husband’s jaw moved like he wanted to say something else.
Then he stood quickly. “I need to talk to him.”
“But this is exhausting.”
Derek walked down the hallway and knocked on Nick’s door. I followed quietly.
“Hand me your phone, Nick” he demanded.
“What? Why?”
“We need to talk about what just happened. And I need to see your phone.”
“It’s mine.”
“In this house, privacy doesn’t protect secrets that hurt people. Give it here, Nick.”
“Hand me your phone.”
There was a beat of silence. And then Nick handed it over.
“Come,” Derek told me, already walking back to the living room.
He was already scrolling. His brow tightened as his thumb stopped moving.
“She’s been texting him,” he said. “His grandmother, Francine. Sarah’s mother.”
“Texting him what?”
He turned the screen toward me.
“She’s been texting him.”
A string of messages filled the display:
“Don’t let her get comfortable.”
“Your dad needs to remember who took care of him first.”
I was shocked, but I kept reading.
“If she’s really family, she’ll prove it.”
“Tell your dad she sits at home all day.”
“Your mom was wonderful… You need to keep remembering her, my boy. Talk about her all the time.”
“Don’t let her get comfortable.”
I felt my breath leave my body.
“She’s been feeding him this. All of this… nonsense.”
Derek didn’t answer. His jaw clenched as he tapped her contact. The phone rang once.
“Put it on speaker, Derek,” I said.
He nodded and hit the button.
Francine’s voice came through, overly sweet.
“She’s been feeding him this.”
“Hi, sweet boy,” she said, clearly thinking she was talking to Nick.
“Why are you telling my son to attack my wife?” Derek demanded.
There was a pause.
“I’m looking out for him. He’s still grieving,” she said. “Two years isn’t ‘moving on’ for a child, Derek. Don’t pretend it is. And now you have another woman trying to be his mother.”
“I’ve never tried to erase Sarah,” I said. “I’ve never asked him to replace her. I’ve just shown up, every day, trying to make this home feel safe while he figures everything out.”
“And now you have another woman trying to be his mother.”
Her voice sharpened. “While my grandson is standing there hungry, Leah —”
“Enough,” Derek cut her off. “You don’t get to use my child as your weapon.”
“Derek —”
“No! Listen to me, Francine,” he said. “You’ve been punishing me for finding love again. You’ve been punishing Leah for existing. And you’ve been pouring all of that nonsense into my son. That ends today. You will not contact Nick again without me present. And I’m telling the whole family why.”
“You don’t get to use my child as your weapon.”
“You’re choosing her over your wife?”
“I’m choosing my son over your bitterness.”
He ended the call.
We looked up to see Nick in the hallway, face blotchy, eyes wet.
“Leah, she said you didn’t do anything… she said that Dad was just lonely. That he made a mistake and that you were going to leave us, too.”
“You’re choosing her over your wife?”
I stepped toward him. “Honey… do you really believe that?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want you here.”
“You don’t have to want me. But you don’t get to treat me like I don’t matter.”
Derek crossed the room and put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “You can miss your mom. But hurting people isn’t how you honor her, son.”
Nick’s chin trembled. But he didn’t pull away.
“I didn’t want you here.”
Later that night, I stood in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, baking chocolate chip cookies I didn’t really want. I only bake when I’m sad, when the air in the house feels too thick to breathe through.
Behind me, I heard footsteps.
Derek stepped in, rubbing the back of his neck. “You okay?”
“I needed to do something with my hands.” I grabbed a spoon and started scooping dough onto the tray. “It was either this or scrub the grout with a toothbrush.”
“You okay?”
“Nick and I talked, Lee,” he said.
“And?”
“He’s… processing. He’s confused. He’s trying to be loyal to Sarah without knowing what that actually means. Mrs. Hartman says kids repeat the loudest adult in their ear,” he added quietly.