Page 10 of What Broke First
Matt sighed. “Lily, I left my family for you,” he said, his voice tired. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you treat Sarah like that. She’s still the mother of my kids. And that’s never going to change.”
Lily nodded, but Matt could see the frustration in her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered. “But you need to make up your mind, Matt. You can’t live in two houses at once.”
Matt watched her slip out of the car and disappear into the building, the door clicking shut like punctuation on a sentence he didn’t want to end.
He stayed there, hands on the wheel, the silence closing in. Then, almost on instinct, he thumbed through his phone and queued up Still Loving You by The Scorpions.
The guitar bled through the speakers, aching and slow.
He had made his bed; that much was clear. But as the song ended and he stepped out of the car, something twisted in his gut. He knew this was the biggest mistake of his life.
Chapter 5: Sarah’s Boundaries, Matt’s Bruises
Sarah was sorting laundry when her phone buzzed, a text from Matt.
Matt: I am sorry about today. Thank you for yesterday. I’ll bring their soccer ball back tomorrow. Also, I didn’t forget the bunny’s name. It’s Mr. Buttons.
She stared at the screen. Her thumb hovered for a second before she set the phone facedown on the dryer. She didn’t need thank-yous. She needed a time machine. Or a therapist with a wand.
In the living room, Emily was combing Mr. Buttons’ matted fur with a toothbrush.
Tommy was drawing something on the coffee table that would later require a magic eraser and some deep breathing. They were calm today. Whole. And that scared her more than anything, because they still thought Matt hung the moon.
And once, she had too.
She remembered the night he turned their backyard into a glowing campsite after a week that had unraveled her sanity. He strung up lights, grilled s’mores, told ghost stories in ridiculous accents, and held her hand like they hadn’t missed each other for months. Emily had fallen asleep with a marshmallow in her hair. Tommy whispered, “Dad made the sky for us.”
Sarah had believed it. Every word.
But now she knew: Matt didn’t make the sky. He set the whole damn universe on fire and walked away whistling.
Matt sat in his car the next morning, gripping the soccer ball like it might explode. Or confess to something he couldn’t. He finally made it to the front porch, rang the doorbell, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Too late.
Sarah opened the door in jeans and a sweatshirt that still made his stomach flip. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the familiarity. Or perhaps it was because it looked better than anything Lily ever wore. Sarah didn’t have to try.
“You’re early,” she said. He held up the soccer ball as if it were a sacred artifact. “Peace offering, part two.” She stepped aside, allowing him into the entryway, but no further. “They’re still eating.”
He nodded, unsure what to do with his hands, his face, or his entire past. She leaned against the staircase railing, arms crossed. “Lily still screaming?” Matt blinked. “What?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “I am sure she had quite a bit to say after yesterday’s confrontation."
Matt looked away, “She’s... passionate.”
Sarah tutted, “She’s unhinged."
"She threw a wine glass,” he admitted, surprising even himself. “The other day, when I got home from seeing the kids...and you.”
Sarah’s mouth twitched. It could have been amusement. Could have been pity. “You sure know how to pick 'em.”
Matt sighed. “I didn’t pick her.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I know that doesn’t mean anything now,” he said, quieter. “But I’m trying. I’m starting therapy. I’ve stopped pretending I didn’t blow up the best thing I ever had.”
Sarah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced toward the kitchen, where laughter and cereal crunches echoed like a lullaby from a different life. “The best thing you had,” she repeated. “But you didn’t even know it until you were in someone else’s bed.”
Matt looked at the floor. “I know.”
