Chapter 1
Rain
“You need to eat, Samuel. You and your sister both.”
My kids groan in unison.
“No, I want to eat when Daddy comes back,” Samuel says.
Cody. He is only home two days a month, usually the fourth weekend. Even then, his presence is a gamble. Sometimes he never comes home during the week at all.
“You will eat again when he comes back,” I say. The lie slips smoothly past my lips. It works. He picks up his fork. Beside him, Rose pauses, her fork holding pasta mid-air.
“But Mummy, you have said this before.”
My smart girl. I abandon the dishes in the sink and cross the kitchen. I squat to meet their eyes.
“Baby, it is just—” I search for the right words. “Daddy is busy. He is very busy, and he might not come today. And children who do not eat…”
“Get sick,” they chime together.
I press a quick kiss to each of their foreheads and stand up. “Now, finish your food.”
Back at the sink, my hands plunge into the soapy water. The foam bubbles over my knuckles as Samuel's words echo in the quiet room. No, I want to eat when Daddy comes back. A bitter laugh escapes me, followed quickly by a hot tear that trails down my cheek. This marriage is dead.
Two days a month for the past six years.
The urge to cry makes it hard to swallow. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the sound down.
The doorbell rings.
“Daddy!”
“Daddy!”
They chant the word with so much certainty, abandoning their plates. I freeze, staring toward the hallway. Who is at the door? It cannot be him. He is not due for weeks.
Samuel bolts toward the entryway.
“Take it easy,” I call out, wiping my wet hands on a dish towel as I follow.
Samuel throws the door open. Cody Vincent stands on the threshold, propped up by crutches.
The background noise of the house vanishes.
I look at him, and he looks at me. The familiar scent of woodsmoke and rain drifts into the foyer, slow and heavy, bridging the distance between us.
For six years, I have survived on the fringes of his life, but seeing him now makes a quiet ache throb in my heart.
I want this. I want him here, under this roof, filling the silent corners of our house.
The kids need their father, and a weak, desperate part of me still wants his arms around me.
But the realization of his presence settles in, slow and freezing.
A knot forms in my stomach. The sudden break in our routine sends a wave of nervousness through me, followed by a jolt of pure tension straight down my spine.
Rose runs to him, wrapping her small arms tightly around his legs.
Cody looks down. A wide, easy grin spreads across his face—the special smile he reserves only for them.
Then my eyes drift past his shoulder. A stranger stands right behind him, holding a large cardboard box.
I look back at Cody, the warmth fading from my face. I want to ask him what happened. I want to touch his arm, to know why he is hurt.
He tightens his grip on the crutches, looking at me. His expression stiffens. There is no smile for me.
“Doctor says I should rest for a month,” he says, his voice flat.
Before I can speak, he turns his attention back to the kids. He smiles down at them again, shuffling past me into the hallway. He moves further into the house, completely out of my sight.
I stand by the open door, a sad smile resting on my lips as I stare at his retreating back. The happy chatter resumes instantly. The bright sound of the kids laughing and Cody answering them echoes from the living room.
I turn back to the stranger with the box.
The status quo is shattered. Thirty days of awkward nights on the same bed with him await me.