Chapter 96
“It’s okay, Dad. We know it’s too painful for you,” Nolan adds, his voice steady but soft in that way that always knocks the wind out of me. “That’s why we’ll talk to Aunt Sierra about Mom. She told us we can p>
Nova nods enthusiastically, her curls bouncing. “She told us stories about Mommy when they were kids. Aunt Sierra said I remind her of Mommy p>
I just stare at them, my brain struggling to catch up.
“She had so many stories about Mom,” Nolan goes on, smiling at the memory. “I didn’t know they were best friends. Aunt Sierra, Aunt Lilly, and Mom p>
“Yeah!” Nova squeals, her little hands waving in excitement. “Remember when she said Mommy did her makeup terribly p>
She giggles, and Nolan bursts into laughter beside her.
And I just stand there while everything inside me twists. They’re laughing, remembering Chloe, and I should be grateful for that. Grateful that someone helped them keep her memory alive in a way that doesn’t hurt.
But all I can think is, why? Why would Sierra do that? Why would she choose kindness when she could have twisted the knife?
None of it makes sense.
“Or when Aunt Sierra caught that tiny frog and it jumped on Mommy!” Nolan adds, grinning wide. “She ran around screaming, trying to get it off, and when Aunt Sierra tried to help, they both fell into a pit of mud! Mommy was so angry p>
Nova bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach. “And that one time the three of them sneaked out to go to a haunted house and Mommy and Aunt Sierra ended up peeing their pants from fear p>
That does it. Both of them collapse into fits of laughter. Nova’s cheeks turn bright pink, tears streaming down her face, while Nolan laughs so hard, he can barely breathe.
And I just stare.
I haven’t seen them laugh like this in so long. Not this freely. Not this joyfully. It’s like a part of them that’s been dim suddenly lit up again. And it hits me hard. Like a blade pressing deep into my chest.
How did I miss this? Had I been so wrapped up in my grief, my anger, and my bitterness that I failed to see that my kids weren’t as happy as before?
And the fact that it’s Sierra. The woman I’ve spent years despising–who’s managed to bring this light back into them? That realization cuts deeper than I can admit. I don’t even know what to do with the feeling. It’s confusing. Infuriating. And somewhere beneath all that… it fucking hurts.
“And she also taught us to bake,” Nova says, her voice softening into fondness. “It was so much fun. She didn’t scold us when we made a mess. Not like Aunt Brook. She scolds me when I spill something or break her things, even if it was an accident p>
My breath catches. Why have I never noticed how little they mention her?
They talk about my sisters, about my cousins, even about Sierra and yet I’ve never heard them speak warmly about Brook. Their voices about Brook are always flat and neutral, like she’s furniture in the house. I used to tell myself it was because Brook lives with us, because familiarity breeds indifference. Maybe I was wrong.
Just like you might be wrong about Sierra.
That small, traitorous voice whispers again. I force it down. I can accept a lot of things, but not being wrong about her.
And maybe this is her new strategy. Win the kids first, then me. If that’s her angle, I’ll destroy it before she gets the chance to get her greedy claws into my kids. 1
“Daddy, can we see her again?” Nova asks, eyes huge and hopeful.
“We really loved staying with her those couple of hours,” Nolan adds. “She’s fun and so warm. Just like Grandma p>
What spell did she cast on them? How did she get so comfortably inside their heads that they’d compare her to my mom? It a fucking insult.
“Have you forgotten you’re in trouble?” I snap, teeth clenched so tight they hurt.
Nova instantly goes for the puppy–doll eyes, but I don’t fold. I can’t. If I keep letting them slide for every bit of mischief, they’ll turn into spoiled little tyrants who think rules don’t apply to them.
“But, Dad-” Nolan starts, the negotiator, already reaching for compromise.
“No buts.” I cut him off, voice cold and final. “You’re both grounded for two weeks. Go to your rooms and think about what you did p>
They gape at me, stunned because I’ve never actually punished them before. They grumble, stomp down the hall, and slam their bedroom door.
I stand there after the noise fades, chest tight, feeling the ache I can’t name. Part of me hates the idea of being the bad guy. Another part knows exactly why I need to be: I need to stop whatever’s growing between Sierra and my kids before it becomes something I can’t control.