“It means you’re here because adults had an adult problem. You don’t make Tyra or Micah feel responsible for it. And don’t get their hopes up; you’re not going to be here forever.”
Then he looked down.
“Right. Of course.”
I stepped aside.
“Come in. There’s leftover dinner on the counter.”
That was my first mistake.
For five nights, Brian slept in the garage.
He was polite.
Too polite. Mostly, he stayed in the garage with the door half-shut, like he wanted me to notice how little trouble he caused.
On the second night, my daughter came into the kitchen while I was rinsing lunch containers.
“Is Dad moving back?” she asked.
I nearly dropped the sponge. “No, baby.
Why would you ask that?”
She shrugged, but her mouth tightened. “He told Micah he’d sleep anywhere to be close to us.”
My fingers curled around the counter.
I found Brian in the garage ten minutes later. Micah was beside him.
“Daddy would always be here if he could,” Brian was saying.
“I love you and your sister more than anything.”
I knocked once on the open door. “Micah, go choose your clothes for school.”
Brian leaned back. “What?
What do you need?”
I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t make the kids feel like you’re being kept from them.”
“I’m not allowed to say I miss them, Laura? You want to control that too?”
“Say you miss them, sure.
But don’t turn it into a tragedy with witnesses under four feet tall.”
