Page 13 of The Guilty One

“I wasn’t planning on sending them.”

Before he can respond, Mom sees us and darts out of the kitchen and into the living room to meet us. The boys are at the kitchen table, eating bowls of what I assume is oatmeal from the smell that has permeated the entire house.

“You didn’t wake her up. I told you not to wake her up,” Mom says, then looks at me before she gets an answer. “He didn’t wake you up, did he?”

“No,” we answer at the same time.

Mom huffs a breath and studies me. “We were trying to be quiet.”

“I know. I barely slept. I didn’t think you guys would be here so early.” My eyes flick toward the boys in the living room. “I wasn’t planning on sending them to school today.”

“I didn’t figure you were, but I think they should go.” She crosses her arms, lowering her voice even more. “Right now, all there is for them to do is worry. Going to school will distract them. Let them go until we know more.”

I swallow. She’s right. I know she’s right, but I also know if I let them out of my sight, there’s a chance I might not see them again. I let Tate walk away from me to go to work one time, and now, that may have been the last time I’ll ever see him.

How can I ever let the boys leave my sight again?

“It’s going to be okay,” Mom says softly. “Just…let’s let them be kids a bit longer.” Her voice is suddenly thick and strained, her eyes gleaming with tears. She thinks he’s gone. She thinks we’re just waiting for the news to arrive. Am I foolish for thinking he’s still alive? That he might still come home?

With a single glance at my boys at the kitchen table, I know she’s right. Last night I told them it was going to be okay. I told them their father was going to come home eventually. For now, they still believe me. They trust me.

If I’m wrong, I’ll never get that trust back. Never again will they so blindly take my word for anything. Until we know something for certain, I need to let their lives remain unchanged. Routine and consistency are the only things we have going for us right now.

“Yeah. Okay. You’re right.”

She huffs a breath of relief. “What can we do to help after we’ve dropped them off?”

“I’m going to his office,” I say. “Could you guys stay at the house in case he shows up? And get the boys from school for me?”

“Of course,” Mom says. “Is that really all you need?”

“Yeah, for now. It’s as far as I’ve gotten with my plan. I’m hoping I’ll know more once I talk to his boss.”

“Let me come with you,” Dad says. “You still don’t look like you need to be driving.”

“I’ll be fine,” I promise him. “Honestly. I just want to handle this alone. It’s a huge help to know you’ve got the boys.”

He looks hesitant but eventually agrees. “Whatever you need.”

I nod, making my way into the kitchen to tell the boys good morning.

“Morning, Mom,” Finley says. “I had the dream about the mice again.” Lately, Finley has been dreaming about mice coming into his bedroom in the night and climbing under the covers with him.

I pat his head, slipping into the chair next to him. “Morning, bud. Did you scare them away?”

“No, not this time. They were nice mice.” He shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.

“There’s no such thing as nice mice, is there, Mom?” Ryker asks skeptically.

I shrug, too tired for conversations about mice personalities, but I push ahead anyway. “I don’t think mice are inherently bad. They’re just trying to survive, like the rest of us. We just don’t want them in our house.”

“Some people have pet mice,” Finley says.

“That’s true.” I pat the table and do my best to form a convincing smile. “Are you both ready for school?”

“What about Dad?” Ryker asks. “Will he be here when we get home?”

It takes me a second to form an answer that isn’t a lie, but also won’t destroy them. “I hope so,” I say finally. “But I don’t want you guys to worry about that, okay? I just want you to focus on having a good day and let Mommy deal with the rest of it.”

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