Page 46 of Falling Together

“I don’t care. I hate it here.”

Before I can respond, Luke stomps off to his room. I call after him, but he ignores me.

Fuck. I thought he might react like this, but it still shocked me to hear him voice everything he’s been feeling since we moved.

“How are you feeling?”

Georgia’s voice is soft as her hand rubs soothing circles on my back.

I glance over at her. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. I am sorry he said those things about you.”

“I can take it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “You should hear some of the things the kids scream at me when they first come for therapy. It’s not pretty.”

“Still. I’m sorry my son said those things about you.”

“Do you want me to try talking to him? I could try and smooth things over.”

I study her face. Georgia might be the kindest person I’ve met. She definitely has the patience of a saint. I doubt anyone would want to go talk to someone after they yelled at them like that.

“Would it make things worse?” I ask.

Georgia stands and drops a kiss on my forehead. “Give me a few minutes and we’ll see.”

I watch her go, disappearing down the stairs. I hope to God things don’t get worse. Because as it is, they’re pretty terrible.

Even if Georgia comforting me feels so damn good. Her lips on my forehead was the briefest touch, but it felt right. Like she is always supposed to be here.

It shouldn’t. Not when we only just decided to do this parenting thing together.

We should focus on that. Not anything else. Certainly not my feelings toward her.

Those can wait.

Kids first.

If only the rest of me would get the memo.

Chapter Fourteen

GEORGIA

It’s a good thing I deal with moody kids on a daily basis, because otherwise, I would have run screaming from this house.

Luke’s outburst doesn’t surprise me.

I’ve had my fair share of kids screaming at me because families are having kids and them worrying they’ll get moved again. If I can be a safe place for these kids to take out their emotions and feelings, I’ll do it.

Better me than anyone else.

I have experience here. It’s the only reason I’m knocking on Luke’s door.

“Go away, Dad!” he shouts.

“It’s Georgia,” I say, giving him a minute.

Whether he wants to answer is on him. When he does swing the door open, he looks more upset than he was before.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” he says, going back and dropping on his bed.