The first shove came from Dylan.
Brian snapped instantly and responded with a fast, aggressive grab of Dylan’s hoodie, right at the chest. He yankedhim forward violently. I got knocked aside in the scuffle, stumbling back into the counter.
“Stop it!” I shouted, but it was too late. Things happened so fast. I couldn’t even tell who moved first. They both slammed into the kitchen counter, arms locked and legs shoving. The toaster crashed to the floor. A mug exploded near my feet.
“Stop it!” I screamed again.
That’s when Dylan dropped low and used some wrestler move from the school wrestling team. He hooked Brian’s leg, twisted hard, and sent him crashing to the floor.
“Don’t ever talk about Mom like that again, you asshole!” he screamed, his face tomato red, tears streaking down his cheeks.
Brian was back up almost immediately. He grabbed Dylan with both hands, then flung him across the kitchen effortlessly. Dylan slammed into the kitchen table, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it slid and tilted, nearly flipping over.
Brian charged again and got on top of Dylan, both fists gripping his sweater.
“I hate you!” Dylan screamed, not even fighting back anymore. “I fucking hate you so much!” He shouted like the words were burning their way out of his broken heart.
“Get off of him!” I grabbed Brian from behind. I yanked with all I had. It felt like this was all his fault. And none of it, at the same time.
“Daddy, no!” A high-pitched screech echoed through the room like shattering glass. Lila stood in the doorway. Her face was frozen in absolute terror.
Ethan was right next to her, crying already, wide-eyed and shaking. Both of them stared like they didn’t recognize us anymore.
Something clicked, and Brian seemed to come back to himself. The anger drained from his twisted face, replaced byshock and shame. He looked down at Dylan like he hadn’t realized what he was doing until just now. Then he let go and rose to his feet fast.
“Don’t hurt Dylan!” Lila cried.
Ethan ran to me full speed and crashed into my arms. I caught him with one arm and dropped down to my knees beside Dylan, pulling him into the other. Lila came running too.
I held all three of them, trying to pull the broken pieces together.
“I’m so sorry—” Brian started.
“Get out!” I yelled.
Everybody was crying. The kids. Dylan. Brian. Me.
“I’m so sorry.” Brian sniffled again. Then left.
“I hate him,” Dylan sobbed.
“Don’t say that,” I countered gently. Not for Brian’s sake—for the kids. So they wouldn’t lose their father too. So they wouldn’t carry that hate on top of everything else.
“How can he say that about mom?” Dylan cried harder. “I hate him!”
“He’s hurt,” I said, rocking all three of them like they were babies again. “Because he loves her so much. And he’s not as strong as you. And what he said about your mom isn’t true. I know it.”
I nodded, firm. This conviction was rooted deep in my gut.
“And I can tell you why it’s not true,” I added.
A memory surfaced. Lacey when she was little, preparing my birthday breakfast as a surprise. The whole kitchen was a mess. The eggs literally on fire on the stove. A card that said “I love you with all my heart” on the table.
“Before I became a mom,” I said, brushing a tear from Dylan’s cheek, “I thought I understood what love was. Everyone tells you how much you will love your kids. And you think you get it. You think you know.”
I looked down at Dylan, still holding him. “But then you have a child. And that love—it’s…indescribable. It consumes you. It fills every part of you. It’s so much more than you thought it would be. It’s terrifying. You just can’t grasp how it’s even possible to love someone so much.”
I paused, swallowing the knot in my throat.
