Page 112 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

There’s intention in it. Care. The kind of care you can’t fake.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath.

I turn the piece over, studying the joints, the way the grain runs. She knows what she’s doing. This isn’t a hobby she dabbles in when she’s bored. This is skill. Patience. A steady hand.

This is something she should be doing.

The thought hits me so clearly it almost knocks the air out of my lungs.

The market.

I can see it already—June standing behind a stall on Saturday morning, bright scarf wound about her neck, sawdust on her hands, fascinated kids clustering around to look at the toys. Parents picking things up, asking questions. This is something real. Something hers.

Finally, the knot in my chest loosens just a little.

Things could be… easy. Or easier, at least. A way to reconnect with her without mentioning everything that’s complicated.

I set the toy down carefully, exactly where she left it, not wanting to disturb the order she’s created. Don’t want to intrude any more than I already have.

I’ll talk to her tomorrow, I decide.

About the toys. About the market. About something that isn’t loaded with unspoken tension and choices I don’t know how to navigate yet.

A way back to normal.

Or whatever passes for it now.

I look at my phone on the way to bed, thumb flicking through notifications out of habit more than interest as I step into my room.

One new email.

Unknown sender.

That’s unusual

I open it, and the words hit as a cold splash to the face.

You should know the woman you hired was fired from her last job for inappropriate conduct.

My jaw tightens.

I read it again. Slower this time.

Unprofessional behavior. Complaints from parents. The school chose not to pursue further action, but you have a child. You deserve to be informed.

My stomach drops.

This is not what I was told.

I think of the call I made when June first applied for the job and how the school receptionist spoke about June’s work, her reliability, and her patience with kids. How she’d hesitated when I asked why June had left, then said only that it was a mutual thing.

No mention of misconduct.

No mention of complaints.

And now, June has been around Evan for weeks. In my house. In my kid’s life.

The thought sharpens into something dangerous.