“So that’s it,” she said. “One stupid comment from a teenager and you throw away your entire family.”
“That comment showed me exactly what you think of me,” I said. “Always have.”
“Yeah, you did.”
She stared at me, searching for angles, for leverage.
Finding none.
“Go home, Ethel.”
“Parker—”
“Leave now,” I said, “or I will get you removed.”
She stood there for another moment, waiting for me to soften.
Waiting for me to be the pushover she’d counted on for seven years.
I didn’t.
Eventually, she turned around, walked back to her car, and drove away.
I watched until her tail lights disappeared.
Then I went back to organizing my tools.
Eva appeared in the garage doorway a few minutes later.
Saw Ethel’s car.
“You okay?”
I picked up a wrench and put it in its place.
“Yeah.”
“She was crying for help,” I said, “but don’t worry about it. She won’t annoy us again.”
Eva nodded slowly.
And smiled.
“Good.”
She went back inside.
I finished organizing the garage.
Then I turned off the light, closed the door, and went inside to help Trixie with her homework.
She was working on a book report.
Her favorite fantasy novel spread across the kitchen table.
The same book Brian had stepped on all those weeks ago.
She’d kept reading it anyway.
Kids are tough like that.
The night was quiet.
Our house was warm.
My family was together.
For the first time in seven years, the silence felt like peace.
