Frank slowly looked up.
“Hello, Trevor.”
Trevor’s face drained of color.
“What the hell…”
His knees actually buckled. He grabbed the back of the couch to steady himself.
“What the hell…”
“No.” Trevor’s voice cracked. “Not you.”
He finally noticed the chalkboard.
For half a second it looked like he might laugh.
Then I tried standing. Pain shot through my abdomen. I winced before I could hide it.
Trevor took one step toward me.
Before he reached me, Frank was already there. He supported my elbow with one hand and moved a chair behind me with the other.
“Easy.”
Pain shot through my abdomen. I winced before I could hide it.
I sat down carefully.
Trevor stopped walking.
He stared.
Another man had instinctively done the exact thing that should’ve been his responsibility.
Trevor looked at his father.
“You don’t get to judge me, Dad.”
Frank nodded calmly.
“You’re right, son. I don’t.”
“You don’t get to judge me, Dad.”
Trevor blinked.
Frank adjusted the sleeping baby against his shoulder. “But I know exactly what story you’re telling yourself.”
Silence.
“‘It was only five days.'” Trevor looked away. “I’ll make it up later. The babies won’t remember.”
Frank finally looked him in the eye.
“The babies won’t.” A long pause. “Your wife will.”
Trevor didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
I pointed upstairs.
“There’s a suitcase waiting for you in our bedroom.”
“I’ll make it up later. The babies won’t remember.”
