His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gets in his car and drives away, leaving me with the satisfaction of having won this round and the certainty that he’ll be more careful about his next move.
For now, we’re safe. The kids get to keep their weekends, keep their hockey, keep the life that’s made them happy.
But as I drive home, I can’t shake the feeling that this was just the opening move in a longer game. Evan’s backed down for now, but men like him don’t stay down. They regroup, they strategize, and they wait for better opportunities.
The question is: what will give him that opportunity?
14
DEX
I’m halfwayto Brody and Elliot’s house Thursday evening, takeout bags from that Thai place Elliot loves balanced on my passenger seat. She’d texted earlier asking if I wanted to come by for dinner, said they were having a quiet night in.
The past few days have been good—really good. Ever since the barbecue, ever since that kiss in their kitchen, I’ve felt lighter somehow. More focused. Like I finally know what I want and where I’m headed.
I’m thinking about where I should take Golda on a real date this weekend when I pull into their driveway and notice extra cars. Luca’s sedan, Roman’s motorcycle. So much for a quiet night in.
I grab the takeout anyway and head for the front door. Before I can knock, it swings open to reveal Elliot with a wine glass in her hand.
“Dex! Perfect timing,” she says, but something in her expression seems off. “Come in, we’re just—celebrating.”
She leads me toward the kitchen, where I can hear voices. Familiar voices—Brody, Luca, Roman. And underneath it all, a sound that always makes my chest do weird things: Blythe’s distinctive giggle.
“COACH DEX!” she shrieks the moment I appear in the doorway, launching herself at my legs. “You missed the good news!”
“What good news?” I ask, but I’m already scanning the room. Brody’s at the counter with wine, Luca’s got what looks like a celebratory cake, Roman’s helping Tyson with something on his tablet. And there, at the kitchen island with a glass of wine and a smile that seems forced, is Golda.
“Mom won in court today!” Tyson announces, his pride obvious despite his quieter delivery. “The judge said we don’t have to change our schedule.”
My stomach drops. “Court?”
The room goes quiet in that way that means everyone suddenly finds their drinks very interesting. Golda’s smile falters as she takes in my expression.
“You didn’t know,” she says quietly.
“Evan tried to modify the custody agreement,” Elliot explains when no one else speaks. “Wanted to take away their weekends. But the mediator shut it down.”
I look at Golda, who’s staring down at her wine glass. “When was this happening?”
“It moved fast,” she says defensively. “I got the papers on Tuesday, mediation was today.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?”
Now she looks up, and there’s something guarded in her expression. “I handled it.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t handle it. I’m saying I wish I’d known. I would have wanted to be there for you.”
“You were busy.”
“Golda, I would have canceled everything if you’d called me. You know that, right?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I watch an internal struggle I don’t understand.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she says finally.
“Bother me? He was trying to take away the kids’ hockey and you think telling me would be bothering me?”
“It’s not your problem.”
