Chapter Twenty
Lorelie
So, it’s us.
Patrick and I are sitting side by side in Dr. Nina’s office at Orange Cove, and she’s just told us that Milo is acting out because of… well, us. More specifically, because of our separation.
She folds her hands in her lap and clears her throat gently. “It’s not just the separation itself,” she says. “You mentioned you two went through a rough patch, got back together, and then eventually split.”
Patrick and I both nod.
“Children pick up on small things,” she continues.
“Even things you think you’ve hidden. I’m guessing Milo assumed the same thing would happen again, that the two of you would work things out a second time.
When that didn’t happen, he started expressing his disappointment the only way he knows how, by acting out. ”
My stomach twists. “But we were careful. He didn’t know.”
Dr. Nina gives me a soft look. “Kids are far more aware than we think. Even if he didn’t understand the details, he may have sensed the tension subconsciously. And that can absolutely affect a child’s behavior.”
Patrick shifts beside me, his knee brushing mine. I’m too busy thinking about how we may have ruined our kid to worry about him sitting so close.
I smooth my hand over my jeans, trying to take in every word without feeling like I’m drowning in guilt.
“So what do we do now?” I ask quietly.
Dr. Nina smiles, not unkindly, but with the kind of honesty that doesn’t cushion the truth.
“Well,” she says, “we start by showing Milo that while your marriage ended… his family didn’t.”
“Okay,” Patrick says beside me, shifting forward a little like he’s ready to take orders.
Dr. Nina looks between us. “Is there any activity you used to do together as a family? Something consistent? A ritual or routine he might associate with the three of you?”
I think about it, but Patrick gets there first.
“Well… yeah,” he says. “On our days off, mostly Sundays, when Lore wasn’t on shift, we had a routine. We’d take Milo out for the whole day. The park, long walks, sometimes the pond if the weather was good…” He glances at me briefly. “Then we’d have dinner out. Just the three of us.”
He looks back at Dr. Nina. “It was our thing.”
“Good,” Dr. Nina says, nodding like she was hoping we’d say that. “I’d like you to start that again. The family day.”
Patrick and I both straighten a little.
“But,” she adds gently, “with one change.”
We wait.
“Instead of one of you taking him home afterward, I want you to together drop him off for a sleepover. At his grandparents’, a cousin’s, a close friend’s house, wherever is normal for him.”
Patrick frowns slightly. “Together?”
“Yes,” she says. “That transition is important. He needs to see the two of you cooperating, being united where he is concerned. It shows stability.”
I nod slowly, letting her words settle. It makes sense. It also makes my stomach twist.
“Won’t it be confusing?” I ask. “He’s used to not seeing us together, and now…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.
Dr. Nina tilts her head. “He’s used to seeing you as a couple. Now he needs to see you as parents. Divorced, but still a team.”
I steal a quick glance at Patrick. He’s gone still.
I clear my throat. “We’re… actually not divorced.”
“Oh?” Dr. Nina says, brows lifting. “Can I ask if it’s in the works or…?”
I bite my lip. “We haven’t filed yet. I mean, I have the papers but-”
“You do?” Patrick cuts in, his voice rough.
I nod, still avoiding his eyes. “I thought it was time.”
Patrick goes quiet after that. Not tense, not angry… just quiet in a way that makes me believe he’s shut down.
Dr. Nina notices, of course she does. She folds her hands and gives us both a measured look.
“Well, there’s a lot to unpack there,” she says gently. “And as you’re aware, we do offer couples counseling.”
I open my mouth, because no, absolutely not, that’s not what this is, but she lifts a hand and keeps going.
“Even when romantic relationships end, you’re still co-parents. You still have a bond through your children. And communication between the two of you is crucial, especially now.”
I close my mouth slowly.
She isn’t asking us to fix our marriage. She’s asking us to fix how we function for Milo.
Dr. Nina continues, “Couples counseling isn’t only for reconciliation. It can help separated parents learn to communicate, manage conflict, and support their children without slipping into old patterns.”
Patrick shifts beside me but stays silent.
“Something to consider,” she finishes softly. “For Milo’s sake, and your daughter’s.”
Agnes, our daughter who will never know her parents when they were together, I wonder which one of my children got the better end of the deal about that.
We stand, gather our things, and walk out together. Milo is exactly where we left him, curled over a coloring page at the receptionist’s desk, humming to himself.
“Ready, bud?” I ask.
He nods, hands the crayons back to the woman, and gives her a polite “thank you.” I smile and take his hand, guiding him toward the door. Patrick falls into step beside us.
He slipped out of work for this session; I know because he still has his gun and shield. I glance at the clock on the wall, almost eleven. My shift starts in less than an hour.
“I can drop him on the way,” Patrick says before I can. “Dad’s home today.”
I shake my head, “Gen wants to take them to the park, she’s waiting at home.”
He nods, understanding, “I’ll drop him there.”
Colter offered to help even during my weeks, but it felt wrong to leave Milo and Agnes at my ex–in-laws’ when I technically had custody. So, Genesis watches them on my week. Colter, during Patrick’s.
It’s our rhythm now.
And as we walk out into the parking lot, Patrick on one side of Milo, me on the other, it hits me that from a distance, we probably look like a normal family heading to their car.
We’re not.
After helping Milo buckle into Patrick’s back seat, I close the door and turn to Patrick. We both start speaking at once:
“So do you-”
“I’m gonna-”
We stop. Stare. Awkward silence thickens between us. Milo watches us through the window, eyes bouncing back and forth like he’s waiting for a swordfight.
I plaster on a smile, wide and stiff, and say, still smiling like a deranged Muppet, “Do you… want to do the family outing?”
Patrick shrugs, and because his back is to the car seat, he doesn’t bother hiding his grumpy face. “What’s the point?”
“So, our son doesn’t grow up emotionally stunted,” I hiss under my breath.
He shrugs again. “His parents are divorcing.”
My eyes close in frustration. I turn slightly so Milo can’t see my face. “Patrick.”
He folds his arms. “Were you gonna tell me you got a lawyer?”
“I didn’t,” I fire back. “I asked an old friend for advice. He sent over the documents. All we’d have to do is fill them out, list what we want and take them to a mediator. That’s it.”
Patrick’s jaw works. “So, what do you want?”
I swallow, steadying myself. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but what we’re doing now seems to be working. The logistical stuff.”
His brow shoots up. “I’m living in an apartment, seeing my kids every other week or every other day. Lore, you barely allowed me in the delivery room when Agnes was born.”
My eyes narrow so fast I surprise myself. “What’d you expect me to do? You showed up the previous night drunk and incoherent. You were lucky I even let you in at all.”
He looks away sharply. “Why are you always bringing up the past?”
“It’s not just the past,” I say quietly. “It’s a pattern. You made promises and broke them. Over and over.”
My throat tightens, but I keep my eyes on his. “You’re sober now. I’m glad. Honestly, I am. But… you still don’t seem to understand how much you hurt me.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear, my voice barely above a breath. “How much you’re still hurting me.”
Then I step back, forcing a smile onto my face as I lift my hand and wave at Milo through the window, bright and cheerful, the way a mom is supposed to look when she says goodbye.
Patrick stands there frozen.
“Your mom’s been texting me about Christmas,” I say quietly, still keeping the fake smile plastered on for Milo’s sake. “Talk to her. I don’t care what you say. Just tell her to butt out.”
His mouth parts like he wants to argue, but I don’t give him the chance. I turn away, walking back toward my car, smiling for my son until the very last second.
Patrick
I watch Lore walk away with a pit settling deep in my stomach.
I didn’t expect her to compromise all the time. It’s just… she’s always been the more understanding one. My mom, on the other hand, is, well mom. She still treats me like I’m ten, and anything I say becomes something childish or dramatic. It’s always been easier to let her have her way.
But Lore’s right. I pushed her. A lot. And now, with my mom acting the way she is, of course Lore isn’t going to spend Christmas with her and Chloe. My little sister has always been Mom’s shadow, but this time she’s taken it too far.
After I drop Milo off at home, I decide to stop by the DA’s office on my way back.
Since stepping down as sergeant, I’ve enjoyed the freedom of a longer lunch.
I’m not slacking, there’s just not much I can do until DNA comes back on my current case or a judge signs off on an older one. I’ll check on that while I’m here.
But that’s not why I came.
I stop outside my mom’s office, the door half open, and knock gently on the frame.
“Hey.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom looks up from her chair, eyebrows lifting in surprise. I don’t really drop in like this. Not even when I have official business here.
“Mom, you got a minute?” I step inside and close the door behind me.
She nods and gives me her full attention. “What’s wrong?”
I sit down in the chair across from her desk, suddenly unsure of how the hell to start.
I rub my palms against my thighs, stare at a stack of folders, and finally say, “We need to talk about Lore.”
Mom’s whole tone shifts instantly. “What about her?”
I take a breath. “She’s the mother of your grandkids. You can’t keep treating her the way you have been.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I don’t let her.
“What happened in our marriage is between me and her,” I say firmly. “And honestly? With the way I acted, I expected you and Chloe to take her side.”
Mom blinks. “What?”
I shrug. “She left her drunk, cheating husband. I figured you’d be her champion.”
Mom shakes her head, scoffing. “Patrick, you’re a good man who made one mistake. That’s not something to end a marriage over.”
I let out a breath, that’s what I believed too. “She didn’t end it over one mistake. She forgave me for that. It was the rest of it she couldn’t live with.”
Mom frowns, confused. “The… rest?”
I look down at my hands. It’s true. When IA showed me the footage… it felt like watching a stranger wearing my skin.
A man who wasn’t just drunk, he was gone. A man I honestly couldn’t remember being.
I swallow hard.
“Lore forgave the cheating,” I say quietly. “She couldn’t forgive the lying… or the drinking… or the way I kept breaking every promise I made her.”
Mom’s face softens, but she still doesn’t get it. Not really.
And for the first time, I realize how alone Lore must’ve felt with all of us. How hard she worked to keep peace between me and my own family. How much pressure she carried just to make sure everything looked okay.
I meet Mom’s eyes. “You don’t get to punish her, Mom. No matter what happens with us, she’s still the woman you called your daughter for six years. She loved you like one, too. And can you really say you would blame Chloe if she were in Lore’s place?”
Mom’s mouth flattens. Papers shuffle under her hands, her tell when she doesn’t want to face something.
“I suppose not,” she murmurs. “But Chloe would’ve come to me. She would’ve told me. Lorelie didn’t.”
I shake my head. “How could she? She was probably scared you’d react exactly the way you did.”
Mom freezes. Just for a second. But I see it, that hit of shame, coloring her cheeks.
She looks down again, smoothing the same piece of paper that doesn’t need smoothing.
“I… may have been too harsh,” she admits quietly. “When Lauren left Harvey, it threw me. Our family was already shaking. Then you and Lorelie…”
She trails off, sighing. “Your brother’s trying to win Lauren back while she’s living with another man, and I- ” Her hand flutters helplessly. “I guess I panicked. I didn’t want to lose another daughter.”
I stare at her, stunned.
Mom’s eyes lift to mine, and the remorse there is real.
“I shouldn’t have taken it out on Lorelie,” Mom says quietly. “That wasn’t fair to her. Or to you.”
My shoulders slump. I should’ve done this months ago.
I give her a small smile.
She exhales and shakes her head. “How was the appointment?”
“It was fine,” I say. “Milo’s just acting out because he misses… us. When we were a family.”
Mom’s eyes flick away. “I suppose I can relate to that.”
“Mom?” I lean forward a little. “Are you okay?”
She’s not someone who admits fault easily, ever, really and this version of her feels unfamiliar. Vulnerable in a way I’m not used to.
She fiddles with a pen, then asks in a small, hesitant voice, “Do you think I’m unreasonable?”
“What?” The question knocks the breath out of me.
Her brows lift like she knows I’m stalling.
I look away, rubbing the back of my neck. “I mean… you’re opinionated.”
A soft, almost self-mocking smile touches her lips.
“I used to think that was a good thing. That it meant I stuck to my morals. But now…” She taps the pen against her notebook, staring at a spot on the desk.
“Now my oldest is chasing after someone who left him. My middle son went through something enormous and didn’t even come to me. And my youngest daughter…”
She shakes her head. “Well, Chloe dropped out of law school because she never wanted to be a lawyer in the first place.”
She lets out a breath that sounds like defeat.
“I keep wondering how I got so many things wrong.”
My brows shoot up at that. I knew about Harvey’s quest to win Lauren back from the new boy toy, but Chloe, that’s new.
“Chloe said that?” I ask.
Mom gives a tired little laugh. “Not in so many words.” She sets the pen down and folds her hands, staring at them like they might answer for her. “I suppose I did push her. You boys took after your father, and I wanted her to trail after me. I never stopped to ask what she wanted.”
“Mom,” I say softly, not sure what to say that won’t sound useless. She gives me a sad smile before I can try.
“It’s alright,” she murmurs. “It’s not your burden.”
I smile back, even though it feels thin. “I should get going.”
She nods. “Of course. Be careful.”
I rise from the chair and make it halfway to the door before something in me pauses. I turn back.
“I love you, Mom.”
Her face softens in as she smiles. “I love you too, honey.”