Sage jumped up on the sofa, forcing herself between her parents. “Guess what? I tried to do my homework, right? Because Papa said I have to do it when I know for sure that it can wait another five weeks?—”
“If you do it in five weeks, you’ll no longer need it,” Luan interrupted.
Sage turned around and looked at him, eyebrows scrunching together. “Yes, that’s the whole point, Papa.” Her eyes rolled dramatically. “Then I don’t have to do it anymore. No homework means I get to have more time not stressing about homework.”
Grey chuckled, earning himself a more-or-less angry glare from his husband.
“So anyway, I tried to do my homework, right? And guess what? Mrs. Simone is sick tomorrow, so I don’t even need it anymore.” She fell back against the sofa, and her eyes settled on me. The moment she spotted me, her face lit up. “Oh, my—Whaaaat!” Sage jumped off the sofa and ran right into my arms, startling me for a second. “Where were you yesterday?!”
“On a date with Reece,” I answered, picking her up to hold her in my arms. Well, it wasn’t a date, per se… we went out to eat at my dad’s restaurant. We didn’t even talk.
“Ash said you told him you’d come by to play with us, but then you never did.”
I couldn’t even remember promising Ash I’d stop by. I knew I was over here a lot when Reece, Dad, and Emory were all busy, but that didn’t mean I stopped by every day either, so he couldn’t have just assumed, could he?
What did I know? Ash was six. He definitely just assumed.
“Brookie, do you know that Ash and I are switching schools?” she asked, which instantly made me look at Grey and Luan with narrowed eyes.
So they could allow their kids to switch schools, but they refused to help me decide? They should be the perfect candidates to weigh out the pros and cons with me.
“Why would you transfer to a different school?” I asked in return. As far as I knew, Ash just started first grade. How could there have been any problems already?
Guilt painted Grey’s face, which was more than unusual for him. I was used to his expressions being unreadable, even if he’d gotten better at expressing himself over the years.
His usual neutral, grumpy expression aside, he’d shown plenty of emotions, mostly happiness, but I’d never seen guilt before.
Sage sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. “Because some older guys in our school are making fun of Ash.”
“Why?” And why hadn’t I ever been informed about this happening? I’d been through a couple of rough days at school, so I could’ve told Ash exactly how to make them stop. Or tried to anyway.
Sage looked at her dads, smiling at them before her eyes were back on me. She leaned in, whispering, “They’re not actually making fun ofhim. I just said that because I don’t want Daddy and Papa to know the truth.”
“What truth?”
Once again, Sage looked at her parents, making sure they weren’t paying enough attention to actively listen to what she was telling me. “They’re saying Ash will never be a real boy because he has two dads. I don’t think he knows that they’re saying it because they’re not saying it to his face. I beat one of the boys up.”
My eyes widened drastically, coughing as I swallowed the wrong way. “You did what?”
Grey’s eyes narrowed at me, clearly having picked up on my surprise.
I was sure they both knew the real reason why Sage wanted to switch schools, which made me wonder if Grey told my dad about what was going on. Did anyone even know Sage and Ash were transferring to a different school?
Sage giggled. “They were being mean, so I was meaner! Daddy always says that we have to stick up for ourselves, so I stuck up for my dads and Ash because they weren’t there to do it themselves. Rowan avoids me now.”
I mean, it was good to hear she could take care of herself… but Sage was only seven. She shouldn’t have had to do this.
I hugged Sage, holding her a little tighter. “You have totell your parents, Sage,” I whispered back to her. “I know you’re very brave, and I know you just want to protect everyone, but we don’t hide things from the people we love, okay? Sometimes, you’re protecting them more by telling them what’s really going on than hiding it.”
And she was most definitely too young to carry the weight of something like this.
—
“I’m going to quit Juilliard,” I announced as I stormed into the kitchen.
Dad was frozen in place, stopping to stir whatever he was cooking. It smelled like he was making boursin pasta with roasted tomatoes, one of my favorites.
Mom looked up from her iPad, taking a break from working on her newest project. “Quit Juilliard?” she repeated, concern in her voice. I nodded. “Why?”
