Page 79 of I’m Already Gone

Before I can open my mouth to respond, Ethan speaks up, his voice strained. “Jake, please sit down or go to your room.”

Jake scoffs. “Just because Mom’s sick, you think you can waltz back into our lives and start acting like a caring husband.”

“Jake, that is enough,” Ethan warns again, his voice laced with anger. “Let’s try to enjoy this family dinner, okay?”

“Family dinner?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “You haven’t been to a family dinner in years, Dad.” He says the last word with mocking disdain. “She’s dying, that’s why you’re here!” Jake yells, pointing a trembling finger at me.

“I said that’s enough!” Ethan rises from the table so abruptly that his chair scrapes loudly, causing Ollie to cry out and Maddy to jump in her seat, her eyes wide with fear.

I close my eyes for a brief, agonizing second, then rise to my feet and pull Ollie to my chest, holding him against me. “Jake, go to your room,” I demand, leaving no room for argument. Without another word, he shoves his chair back and stalks out of the kitchen, his heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs.

I rub Ollie’s back, trying to soothe his cries. Maddy speaks up, her voice small and shaky. “I like that you’re home, Dad.” She pushes her chair back and walks to Ethan, wrapping her arms around him.

He pulls her into a tight hug. “Thank you, sweet pea,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing her head.

She looks up at me, a fragile smile on her face. “I love you, Mom.” She scurries away and up the stairs. Ethan slumps back onto his chair, resting his elbows on the table, his head in his hands.

“I can’t do anything right by him. No matter how many times I say I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I thought we shared a connection before.”

“You have to give him time, Ethan. He’s a teenager, and right now he’s feeling confused, vulnerable, and on guard,” I say softly, still holding Ollie.

He looks up at me, looking defeated. “From what?”

“From the possibility that you might leave again,” I state simply.

He squeezes his eyes tightly, as if the thought itself is physically painful. “I’m not going to leave. I promise. I’m in this all the way.”

“I know that,” I say. “But you hurt him, too, Ethan. You can’t expect to undo years of emotional neglect with making a homemade dinner. It is going to take time for him to trust you again. And you have to allow him the space to do that.”

He nods slowly, understanding dawning in his tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry about dinner.” He starts collecting the dishes from the table, his movements heavy.

“Don’t apologize,” I say, a small smile touching my lips. “It was delicious. Thank you, Ethan.”

“You’re welcome,” he says with a faint smile.

I turn and walk out of the kitchen with Ollie still cradled against my chest.

Lily

“Knock, knock,” I say through Jake’s closed door.

“Come in,” he grunts.

I push the door open slowly. Jake is sprawled on his bed, back propped against the headboard, idly tossing a worn rubber ball and catching it with one hand.

“Can I come in, or are you just going to ignore your poor mother?” I tease.

He catches the ball, holds it still, and looks at me. A small, almost reluctant smile surfaces. “Of course, Mom. Don’t be weird.” He sets the ball carefully on the duvet and pushes himself up a little straighter.

I step inside, letting the door fall shut with a soft click, the scent of teenage boy and faint deodorant filling my nose. I sit on the edge of his bed, and my gaze sweeps around his room—tidy as always. Jake might be a typical, moody seventeen-year-old, but his space is his sanctuary, and he keeps it immaculate.

I turn my gaze back to him, taking a breath. “You hurt your father’s feelings at dinner tonight,” I state.

“He’s done worse to me. To you.” His eyes flash with a protective anger that still surprises me sometimes.

I nod slowly. “I understand you’re angry, Jake. Believe me, I do. But you cannot disrespect him like that.”

He opens his mouth, but I raise a hand. “You’ll get your turn.”