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“You guys have talked about that?” I ask, shocked.
“Just a little. We had a class project where we had to make a family tree.”
I furrow my brows because I had no idea about this. “Why didn’t you tell me, Owen?”
He shrugs, gazing down at his plate instead of at me. “I don’t know.”
I’ve talked to him about Gabe his whole life but haven’t told him everything about the night he died. I don’t want him to feel any of the resentment and anger I have, so I try to only talk about the good memories I shared with his dad.
“You know we can talk about your daddy anytime you want,” I say. “I know he’d be here if he could, baby.”
He wasn’t always a great husband, but I have no doubt he would’ve made an amazing father. He was always good with kids.
“I know.”
Owen doesn’t bring it up again while we eat, and once we’re finished, I serve ice cream for dessert. He talks about his favorite game, Roblox, and shows me all the cool things he’s built on the iPad. I love that it encourages him to be creative, though I don’t really understand it, honestly. But it has opened a dialogue for online safety and strangers on the internet.
I spend the rest of the evening relaxing on the couch with a glass of wine as I scroll through Pinterest. I love looking for inspiration and have several boards and pins of house ideas. I’m not the best decorator, so I’ve been saving things for when it’s time to finally get furniture and décor.
“Alright, baby. It’s time for bed. Get jammies on and brush your teeth, please,” I tell him at nine. I let him stay up an extra half hour on the weekends.
He slowly walks down the hallway with the iPad in his face, and I chuckle when he nearly runs into the wall. “Turn it off, Owen. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“I will!”
If I had a dollar for every time he said those words, I’d have enough to retire.
I clean up the living room and kitchen while I wait for him to get ready for bed. My mom’s going to watch Owen tomorrow so I can get an early start at the house.
Once I’m done, I head to Owen’s room and tuck him in. “Love you, sleep tight.” I kiss his cheeks.
“Night, Mom. Love you too.”
I slide my hand underneath his pillow and grab the iPad. “Nice try.”
He groans as he rolls over and closes his eyes.
Taking the iPad with me, I close his door, then make my way to the bathroom to wash my face.
As soon as I’m getting into bed, my phone rings, and I see it's Gemma.
“Hey, it’s kinda late. Everything okay?”
“Katie! Oh my gosh. No! I need your help.”
Her frantic voice has me sitting up and my heart racing. “What is it?”
“Noah needs a place to stay for a few days. Can he stay at your new place?”
“What? I don’t understand. Why can’t he stay at your dad’s?”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “Someone threw a pipe bomb through the living room window and spray-painted MURDERER on his truck.”
“Holy shit,” I exclaim in disbelief. “Are y’all okay?”
“Luckily, it didn’t go off. Must’ve been defective or maybe just another warning, but after the brick incident, it’s looking more like someone is trying to intentionally hurt him.”
Gemma told me about the window a couple of days ago, which I’m still shocked someone would do that.
