“That’s. . . that’s something else entirely. He was a minor,” I mumble. Feeling judged as I reach across for my orange juice.
My eyes meet Gabe’s and my stomach churns again with the way he’s looking at me.
“That’s not what we are,” he shakes his head and murmurs so quietly, I can barely make out the words.
“Great eggs,” Ryder continues. “You cook these?” he asks Gabe. “Mum’s a great cook, but her eggs aren’t this good.”
“Cheers, brat,” I reply to my child. “You just tuck into my breakfast while insulting my culinary skills. What are you doing here anyway?”
Putting the fork down, Ryder takes the glass I’m holding from me and drains the contents.
“Dad’s gone away,” he announces.
My head snaps back at the sudden mention of Jay.
“Gone away where?” I ask.
“He didn’t say. He messaged Monday saying he wouldn’t be coming into work for a couple of days. . .”
“Does he know I was at the house?” I interrupt him and ask.
“He didn’t say. He just said he had a few things to sort out and wouldn’t be in, then he messaged Wednesday and said he needed a bit of time away, he’d been drinking too much lately and was gonna book himself in somewhere, get himself straight, and then when he gets back, he’s gonna work on sorting everything out with you.”
“What?” I ask, my voice high-pitched with incredulity.
“That’s what he said?” Gabe asks. “You don’t know where he’s gone?” he continues without giving Ryder a chance to answer.
“Yeah, and no, he didn’t say.”
“I’ve spoken to you since Wednesday. Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.
I know my kid, and the long sigh and the look he gives me with brown eyes so much like his father’s, I know that there’s more to this.
“Mum. . . “
“Just tell me, Ryde.”
Ryder looks from me to Gabe, his knee bounces under the table as his fingers tap on top of it.
“I know shit’s happened between you two, but he’s still my dad, and I’m worried. I’ve not. . .”
“You don’t ever have to take sides, Ryde, I’d never make you choose, not ever,” I tell my son. My voice sounding thick as it clogs with tears.
Ryder studies me for a moment, his own eyes shining.
“I’ve not heard from him since Wednesday and I’m worried,” he says quietly.
The queasiness I felt earlier is nothing compared to how I feel now. My insides churn and my skin prickles with what I’ve learned lately is fear.
I may no longer want to remain married to Jason East, I don’t like or respect the man, and my brain may have stopped loving him, but he’s still the father of my children and the man I’ve spent almost twenty-seven years of my life with, and my heart hasn’t caught up with all of that yet.
“He wouldn’t do anything stupid,” I attempt to reassure my son. “How did he sound?”
“Yeah, he did sound a bit down. He said he knew he’d fucked things up between you, but he needed to do some work on himself before trying to sort things out.”
I so want that not to affect me, for it not to hurt my heart or have my eyes brimming with tears. For just a few minutes, I want to be a cold-hearted bitch who feels nothing. But I’m not, and so it hurts like a mother fucker!
“If he’s booked himself in somewhere, they’ve probably taken his phone off him,” Gabe adds. “Even the places you go to voluntarily make you do that.”