Chương 4
The hospital tile had tiny gray patterns that repeated every few feet.
I wondered how many people had stared at the same tiles while waiting for news they were afraid to receive.
"You think I'm protecting her?"
"I think you're protecting the version of her you remember."
I did not answer.
Because the worst part was that I knew there was some truth in it.
Lena and I had not ended badly.
Not in the way people expected.
There had been no cheating.
No dramatic betrayal.
No single moment where one person became the villain.
We had simply become two people who were tired.
She wanted a different life.
I wanted stability.
She wanted change.
I wanted to hold onto what we had built.
Eventually, holding on became another way of losing something.
We had agreed from the beginning that Noah would never be used as a weapon against each other.
At least, that was what we said.
The problem with promises made during peaceful times was that nobody knew who they would become during a storm.
A nurse finally appeared at the doorway.
"Mr. Carter?"
I stood so quickly my chair scraped behind me.
"Yes."
"I'm Emily."
She smiled gently.
"Your son is with the doctor now."
"Is he okay?"
She paused.
Not long.
But long enough.
"He is stable."
Stable.
I hated that word.
It sounded like a word adults used when they did not want to say something worse.
"Can I see him?"
"The doctor will come speak with you first."
I sat back down.
Derek looked at me.
Neither of us said anything.
A few minutes later, a doctor named Patel walked out holding a tablet.
He introduced himself and explained that Noah had a significant bruise on his upper arm.
"There is no fracture," he said.
My chest loosened slightly.
"Thank God."
"But we are still documenting everything carefully."
The word documenting made my stomach tighten.
"What exactly happened?"
The doctor glanced down at his notes.
"We have a statement from Noah."
I waited.
"He said he was hit while standing in the backyard."
My eyes narrowed.
"The backyard?"
"Yes."
I looked at Derek.
He noticed.
"What?"
"I thought he was inside."
Neither of us said anything after that.
A new detail.
A small one.
But details mattered now.
"What else did he say?" I asked.
Dr. Patel looked at me.
"He said there was a baseball bat."
My jaw tightened.
"Was there one found?"
"I don't know. That would be a question for law enforcement."
The answer frustrated me even though it was reasonable.
Everyone was doing their job.
Everyone was being careful.
But careful felt painfully slow when your child was involved.
The doctor continued.
"He also said something about a garage."
I frowned.
"What about it?"
"He said Travis told him to stay in the garage."
Derek's expression changed.
"What?"
The doctor looked between us.
"Did you know anything about that?"
"No," I said.
My voice came out quieter than expected.
The garage.
I pictured it immediately.
The shelves.
The tools.
The boxes.
The place Noah sometimes played with his toy cars while I worked on projects.
A place that suddenly felt unfamiliar.
"I want to see him," I said.
The doctor nodded.
"One at a time for now."
Derek stood.
"You go."
I looked at him.
"You sure?"
He gave me a tired smile.
"I've been waiting my whole life to tell you to stop hovering."
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me.
It disappeared quickly.
But it was there.
A reminder that the world had not completely changed.
Not yet.
When I entered the room, Noah was lying under a blanket with a hospital bracelet around his wrist.
He looked impossibly small.
He looked up.
"Dad."
I walked over and sat beside him.
"Hey, buddy."
"Did they fix it?"
I looked at his arm.
"They're making sure you're okay."
He nodded.
Then he looked toward the door.
"Is Travis here?"
"No."
"Is Mom?"
I swallowed.
"Not yet."
His face changed.
Not fear.
Something else.
Disappointment.
That hurt more.
"Did you call her?"
The question surprised me.
"No."
"Why?"
Because I did not know what she would say.
Because I was afraid she would defend him.
Because I was afraid she would tell me I was overreacting.
Because some small part of me was afraid Noah would hear her voice and feel less certain that he had done the right thing by calling me.
But I could not tell him any of that.
"I think we need to talk to her."
Noah looked down.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't be mad at Mom."
The room became very quiet.
I stared at him.
"Why would I be mad at Mom?"
He shrugged.
A tiny movement.
A child's attempt to make something serious feel smaller.
"Because Travis said everyone gets mad at Mom."
I felt my hands tighten.
Not enough for Noah to notice.
Enough for me to notice.
"Did Travis say Mom knew?"
Noah did not answer.
That silence was an answer of its own.
I waited.
I did not push.
After a few seconds, he whispered.
"He said she knows how I am."
The sentence confused me.
"What does that mean?"
Noah pulled the blanket higher.
"He said I make people tired."
Something inside me cracked.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that I felt it.
Because there were some things a person could say to another adult that were cruel.
And there were some things a person could say to a child that changed the way the child saw himself.
I leaned closer.
"Noah."
He looked at me.
"You are not too much."
His eyes filled.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
The door opened.
Derek stood there.
His face told me something had happened.
"What?"
He looked at Noah first.
Then me.
"Lena is here."
I stood.
"Where?"
"Outside."
Derek hesitated.
"She's not alone."
My stomach tightened.
"Who is with her?"
He looked away for half a second.
May you like
"Travis."
For a moment, nobody moved.
