She paused. “And he stares. A lot.”
That was enough for me.
“You’re kicking my son out? Based on what—some looks and a photo?”
“I’m protecting our daughter,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “She doesn’t feel safe.”
Tom argued. We didn’t speak for the rest of the night.
The next morning, Jake was gone. Tom drove him back to his mother’s place. No goodbye, no explanation. Just gone.
I wish the story ended there.
A week passed. Then two. Jake didn’t reach out. Neither did Tom, really. The tension in our house was unbearable. Lily seemed more relaxed, but there was a heaviness in the air. Like we’d all agreed not to talk about the elephant in the room.
Then one night, I got a message.
It was from Jake.
