Page 5 of Everlasting Promises

“I just wanna go home.”

“Okay. Let’s do that.” I take the cue from him and shut my mouth. He’s obviously in a mood—which has been happening more often than not lately—and I find it best to give him some space when he gets like this. He usually snaps out of it pretty fast—well, he used to.

The second I turn off the engine, Evan climbs out of the car, slamming his door. He stomps up to the house and waits impatiently for me on the porch. As soon as I open the front door, he storms inside and upstairs, banging his bedroom door behind him.

I stand frozen and blow out a long breath. Some days I don’t recognize this kid, and I don’t know how to deal with him when he’s like this. There have been occasions over the last few weeks when he’s been moody—which I’ve assumed was due to being nervous about middle school, and I guess today’s been a big day—but this is beyond anything I’ve experienced with him so far.

Give him grace. Give him grace. Give him grace. I repeat the mantra to remind myself to stay calm and give him space when I really want to follow him upstairs and reprimand him for his behavior.

Pushing away from the front door, I hang my purse on the hook, head into the kitchen, and pull out the ingredients to make brownies. Maybe some chocolate will cheer him up. I know it’ll makemefeel better.

As I’m pulling the brownies from the oven, footsteps sound on the stairs and I grin.Worked like a charm. He drags a stool out from the counter, and I keep my back to him, pretending he’s not there as I place the tray on the cooling rack and take out two plates. I toss some frozen berries, coconut milk, and ice cream in the blender to make a smoothie and pour it into two milkshake glasses.

Being a single parent is tough, though I should be used to it by now; I’ve been one for more than half of Evan’s life. It’s tiresome having to be both parents, and it’s not what I signed up for. I have nobody to bounce ideas off of or to get a second opinion about what I should do in different situations. I flounder with confrontation, and it would be great to have someone else here to be the tough guy sometimes. If Wyatt were here, he could be the one to speak with Evan about his behavior. But it has to be me. It’s always me.

My gut tenses and guilt grows. I hate how my thoughts narrow to blaming Wyatt for leaving me in this position. This isn’t his fault. He wouldn’t have left us willingly.

I draw in a deep breath and blow it out slowly, trying to cleanse my thoughts as I plate up two generous slices of warm brownie. I silently slide a plate and glass across to Evan, and then bring mine to the counter and sit beside my son—the one piece of Wyatt I have left. We don’t speak for the longest time, and I wonder if this is how it’s going to be from this point forward.

Evan swallows the last bite of his brownie, then uses his fingers to collect the crumbs. “Thanks, Mom. That was yum,” he says with a wide smile. “Can I have another piece?”

“You’re welcome, and sure, but make it a small one. I don’t want you to ruin your dinner.”Should I say something about his behavior? Do I risk asking him about his day now that he seems to have calmed down, or will my questions set him off again?

I feel like I never know the right thing to do.

He grabs a piece and returns to his seat. “I’m sorry I was in a bad mood,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate, and I do my best not to grin.There’s my boy.

“Thanks for apologizing.” I glance at him, then return my gaze to my food. “I’m not the enemy, you know.”

“I know.” He stuffs another forkful into his mouth and chews.

I sip my smoothie to give us some time to breathe. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

“Nah.”

My heart sinks, and I struggle to think of what to say next. Lord knows I haven’t had the emotional strength to deal with much since losing Wyatt, but I need him to know I’m here whenever he needs me.

“Well, I’m always here if you change your mind.”

He grabs his empty dishes and carries them to the sink. “I know.” Without looking back at me, he leaves the kitchen and heads back upstairs.

I can’t be left alone with my thoughts, so I turn on the television for background noise and collect a load of laundry to do while I prepare our lunches for tomorrow. We’ll be back to our usual routine in the morning, so I need to be organized.

3

BEN

“C’mon,Rex, time to work out!” I say, skimming my fingers over his dark fur as we head out to the backyard, which overlooks the ocean. He’s the best workout partner a guy could ask for. Selecting my favorite playlist, I turn up the volume, ready to work up a sweat and burn off enough calories to allow me to enjoy my favorite cookies later.

I do some warm-up stretches, then lie on the grass to do sit-ups as Rex’s paws hold my feet in place. “Woof!” he barks, then licks his chops when I reach one hundred. He’s pretty smart, but I don’t think he can actually count. His response is more about him recognizing my body language when I’m about to stop. After all, we’re trained to be highly in tune with each other.

I rub the top of his head, then flip over to do push-ups. Rex climbs onto my back and gets comfortable, licking the back of my neck every now and then.

“Thanks for the encouragement, buddy,” I grunt out.

He’s not a light dog, but having him on my back while I do these provides the added resistance I need. Next, I grip the pull-up bar beneath the back porch, and Rex stands on his hind legs so I can wrap my legs around him. I lift him as I do my curls, admiring the ocean view.

“All right, buddy. You ready to run?” He leaps up, his front paws landing on my shoulders, and licks the side of my face, making me chuckle as I rub the dark fur at his flanks.

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