Second grade was a lot different than I remembered.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up, expecting an update from Taylor. Instead, it was Peter. I still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten my number, but he was incessant. I still wasn’t sure if it was my fault the night we met; if I had looked in his direction too long or absently smiled at him. Men like him thought every woman who laughed at a single joke was begging to be fucked. So, no. It wasn’t my fault. He was raised with privilege and without accountability. He’d graduated from a rich pansy-ass snot rag to the rapey egomaniac otherwise known as Mayor Lacy’s son. Peter had his eye on me from the moment we stepped into the bar to celebrate Jubal’s promotion to lieutenant. Taylor and I didn’t get out much, and I wanted to make the most of the babysitter we’d procured on late notice.

For weeks after I’d left, I wished we’d just stayed home. But the longer I was gone, the angrier that made me feel. Taylor was long overdue for some self-control. He’d put his job at risk—his brother’s job at risk. I frowned. What used to be cute and maybe even flattering was now detrimental. I didn’t want to teach our children that they could punch their way out of every situation without consequences, or do it anyway, consequences be damned.

I tossed my phone to the mattress and covered it with a stack of folded towels. They were frayed at the edges and none of them matched, but they smelled like home, so I kept them in a bag in the back of my closet and opened it when I missed Taylor the most. Only slightly psychotic.

The doorbell announced someone’s arrival with its flat and offbeat chime that begged to be put out of its misery.

“Daddy!” Hadley said.

Taylor greeted the kids, his hellos cut off by tackle hugs. A few moments later, my bedroom door burst open, and Hollis stood there with Taylor, who was carrying Hadley on his back. Hollis wore a wide grin on his face, his left dimple sunk in, the eyes I loved looking up at me not remotely resembling Taylor’s or mine.

“Dad’s here!” Hollis said. He was so excited he didn’t notice the box on the bed, but Taylor did.

“I see that,” I said with a grin.

“Uh … why don’t you kids pack an overnight bag? I’m going to chat with Mom.”

“Overnight? Really?” Hadley said, sliding off Taylor’s back. She looked at me. “Really, Mom?”

“Really,” I said. “Go on.”

They raced each other to their bedrooms, making as much noise as possible. A day before, I would have been worried about the neighbors complaining, but we were finally leaving this dump behind.

“How’s it going?” Taylor asked, noting the box and my cluttered bed.

“Just getting started. It was tough packing in secret and making dinner and …” I trailed off, noticing a smear of soot on his face. “I checked the news on my phone. The fire’s still going.”

Taylor nodded. “It’s a beast.”

“You’re sure Tyler was okay with you leaving them to it?”

“Yep,” he said, looking around. He found a broken down box and opened it, taping the bottom closed. He seemed conflicted about something, and when his brow furrowed, I braced myself for what he might say. “Uh … Falyn …?”

“Dad!” Hollis said, bag in hand. He glanced at the empty box in front of Taylor and then at the one in front of me. “What’s going on?”

I turned toward the kids, both of them confused. “Let’s talk at the table. Come on.”

Hollis and Hadley followed me to the dining room, which was really just a corner of the living room with a table and chairs. We sat down, and they both rested their elbows on the table, crossing their arms just like Taylor.

“We need to tell you something, but before we do, I need to explain. Dad and I are not back together, and we will not be getting back together—at least, not for a while. We have a lot of things to work out.”

The kids’ eyes fell to their hands and so did Taylor’s.

“The good news is,” I said, looking at Taylor. “You want to …?”

Taylor instantly masked his sadness with a cheerful smile. “The good news is you’re moving back to Estes Park.”

“What? With you?” Hollis said, jumping up from his seat. He threw his arms around Taylor’s neck, and I tried not to let it hurt too much that he was so eager to live with his Dad.

“With Mom, too,” Taylor said. Both kids’ gazes bounced between Taylor and me. “That’s the confusing part.”

“Mom’s moving back, too?” Hadley echoed. Cautious hope flashed in her eyes.

“Your dad and I think it’s a better idea if we move back into the house in Estes, where you can have your old rooms back and go back to school with your old friends.”

“But you’re not together?” Hollis said. I could see the confusion on his face.

Taylor swallowed, already hating what he was about to say. “I’m going to get an apartment until your Mom and I figure things out.”

“An apartment?” Hollis groaned. His eyes glossed over, and he collapsed on his chair. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“Hollis Henry Maddox!” Taylor growled.

He wasn’t used to the cursing, the mood swings, or the anger like I was. As far as the kids were concerned, I had ruined their lives, and Dad was their savior.

Taylor regained his composure, and he pulled Hollis in for a hug, forcing him onto his lap. “You’re not happy here, and your mom sees that. It took a lot for her to call me and figure out how to get you back home. I don’t mind finding an apartment for a while.”

“For how long?” Hollis said, trying not to cry. His cheeks flushed red, making his already faint freckles less noticeable.

“Hollis,” I began. “We’ve talked about this. Sometimes moms and dads need some time to—”

“This is bull crap!” Hollis said. “If we’re going to live in Estes, we should all live together.”

“But we can’t,” I said, firm. “Not yet.”

Hollis stared at me for a moment, hatred in his eyes. At these moments, I waited in fear for him to scream that I wasn’t really his mom, but he hadn’t yet. Teeth clenched, he pushed up from his chair, the legs whining against the tile, and he stomped to his room.

Taylor sighed. “That didn’t go as well as I thought it would.”

“You should go talk to him,” I said.

Taylor kissed Hadley’s forehead and then nodded, following Hollis to his room.

“Mom?” Hadley said. “He can have my room.” I looked at her for a moment, confused. Her platinum hair reminded me so much of Olive, down to the splash of freckles across her nose. “Dad. If you don’t want him sleeping with you, he can have my room.”

I reached for her hand, and to my surprise, she took it. “I wish I could explain this to you so you could understand.”

“I understand,” she said. “He got arrested, and you got mad at him. But you’ve been mad at him for a long time. Can’t you be done being mad now?”

I looked down. “It’s just not that simple, love. I wish it were.”

She nodded, her gaze falling to our hands in the center of the table.

Taylor walked in, his hands in his jeans pockets. “He’s okay. He’s packing. You should get to packing too, baby girl.”