Page 41 of Feels Like Home

Her heartache is no longer my problem to dealwith.

“AndHeather?”

She looks at me, eyes hopeful as she wipes away the wetness now coating hercheeks.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t get the cabin until it’s final. I expect to see you at the divorce proceedings. I want this shitdone.”

She drops her chin to her chest and quietly agrees,sniffling.

I walk outside and around the back of the house to the back yard where the boys are kicking around a soccerball.

I lean against the side of the house before they’ve noticed me and watch them, so much worry taking over my mind I don’t know what to focus on first. I scrub my hand down my face. Bitterness threatens to take over, its ugly fingers snaking around the soft places of my heart. I try to shake it off, not wanting the boys to sense my mood, though I know that’spointless.

I stick my forefinger and thumb in my mouth and whistle loudly. Both their heads pop up when they notice I’m standingthere.

I lift my chin to let them know I want them to followme.

Both their shoulders, slump and I see Aidan whisper something to Reece. Reece nods his head as they continue to make their way tome.

“Yeah,Dad?”

Gutted.

Their expressions tell me they know exactly what’shappening.

“Your mom wants to talk to you for abit.”

“No thanks,” Aidan says, his tone full ofanger.

I feel my heart crack and twist around, hoping to see Heather standing on the back deck, but she’s not there. If she left, I know I’ll lose myshit.

“Come here.” I hold my arm out as I sit on one of the chairs that are set around the stone fire pit in our backyard.

The boys both walk over, looking like their feet are full oflead.

“Just tell us.” Aidan, the bolder of my two boys, the natural leader. He’s a no-nonsense kid, always honest, sometimes to afault.

I blow out a breath and lean my elbows on myknees.

“Your mom is inside. She wants to talk toyou.”

“No, she doesn’t. She doesn’t care.” He looks away quickly andsniffs.

I can’t lie to my boys. Does she care? Hell if I know. I stay silent instead of giving them a sense of falsehope.

“Then why is she leaving? Why did shealreadyleave? For him? She just cares more about herself than us, so why should we care to go in there and have her tell us that?” Reece angrily swipes at a tear, his voice strong, even for hisage.

“She’s—”

“Boys.” Heather’s voice cuts through, and all three of us turn to look at her. She’s standing on the bottom stair of the deck. Mascara smudged under her eyes, a few strands of hair falling out of her sloppyponytail.

Neither of the boys makes a move toward her. Her eyes connect with mine, and I lift my chin and nod, hoping that she’ll be the mature one of the group and come to them. I stand up, grab another chair, and pull it near mine. I point to it while looking at her, and she takes a tentative step down off the stairs. I watch as her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath and her hands holding a tissue twist together in front ofher.

She makes her way over and sits down. No longer feeling a bit of empathy for her in this situation, I lean on the arm of the chair opposite of her. The boys take notice of my position, and I feel a twinge of guilt, but only for amoment.

She’s making this choice. This is on her, notme.

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