Page 55 of Absolution

“No,” I say quickly. “I’ve been keeping track. He doesn’t disappear; he doesn’t lie about where he’s going. He helps with the kids. The house. He hasn’t even tried to take credit for it.”

Marianne gives me a look. “Honey. It’s the spironolactone. It’s suppressing his testosterone. That’s why he’s mellow. That’s why he’s... helpful.”

I nod. “I thought that too. But I stopped giving it to him last Sunday.”

She raises a brow. “It takes a while to wear off. You know that.”

“I get that, I do,” I say, voice low. “But... maybe I’ve been too harsh. I didn’t give him a chance to explain. Maybe Boston was a one-time mistake. And maybe...”

“And what?” Cory cuts in, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice.

“And I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe it’s something I can forgive.”

That hangs heavier than silence ever could. They both look away.

I let the words settle, then say quietly, “You don’t have kids, okay? You don’t know what it’s like. How can I break their family without even trying to save it? They love him. And Kyle loves them.”

“Oh,againwith that,” Cory says, sitting up straighter.

“What?” I ask, not following.

He lifts his hands, mocking, “Every time you defend Kyle or say something remotely positive, it’s always the same, ‘He’s great with the kids. He loves the kids.’” He scrunches his face and raises his voice in a cartoonish falsetto. “He’s such a good dad, you guys. He loves his babies.”

I give him a flat look. “First of all, I do not sound like that. Second, heisa good dad.”

To my surprise, Marianne nods. “He kind of is.”

Cory turns to her, offended. “What?!”

She shrugs. “I mean… he shows up. The kids adore him. He’s involved.”

“Yeah, well,” Cory mutters, crossing his arms. “He wasn’talways.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Cory hesitates, his jaw working, like he’s deciding how far he wants to go.

“The night you went into labour. Yourentire pregnancy, really,” he says finally.

I feel my body go rigid. “That’s unfair. He had to work. We’vetalkedabout that. He didn’t do it on purpose.”

Cory looks down, jaw clenching. “Actually…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Leave it.”

“No. Cory.” My voice is steady, low. “Tell me.”

He exhales through his nose, slow. “When he got to the hospital… he asked me to move his car. You had already had surgery, so I said sure. I parked it in the lot. But… before I got out, his phone rang from the centre console.”

Shrugging, he continues, “I figured it was the hospital. They’d been trying to reach him all night. So, I picked up.”

I blink. “And?”

“It was the front desk. Apparently Mr. Reynolds left the premises without checking out, so they were gonna charge the card on record for another day,” he says quietly.

Blood drains from my face.

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