ned from his face like someone had turned off a light inside him.

His little mouth opened, then closed, like he was going to explain something but couldn’t find the words. Finally, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“I… I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered. His voice was low, not angry, just full of something heavy.

Then he walked past me, the porch creaking under his feet, the screen door giving its usual squeak as it slammed shut behind him.

I didn’t follow.

I just stood there in the fading porch light, staring at the dust where his feet had been.

The silence he left behind wasn’t loud, but it filled everything. It curled around my heart and squeezed.

And somehow, just when I thought it couldn’t hurt more, it did.

That night, after Tyler went to bed, I stood in the kitchen with the phone in my hand for a long time.

My thumb hovered over the number, heart thudding like it wanted to stop me. But I pressed the button anyway.

When Ms.

Bell answered, her voice was warm and kind, like always.

“Ms. Bell, hi. It’s Emma Carter,” I said, my voice shaky.

“Oh!

Hello, Mrs. Carter! Everything okay?”

I cleared my throat.

Tried to keep my tone light, calm. “Yes, yes. I was just wondering… could you ask my husband to come to the school again tomorrow morning?”

There was a pause, then a small chuckle.

“Of course! The kids loved him. It’ll be a treat.”

She didn’t know.

She couldn’t have. I thanked her and hung up.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. I tossed, turned, stared at the ceiling.

I thought about Tom. His smile. His laugh.

The way he used to rub his thumb along Tyler’s shoulder when he talked to him.

I pulled one of his old T-shirts from the drawer and held it to my chest, trying to find a trace of his scent.

But it was long gone.

The next morning, I put on Tom’s favorite color—deep green. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple blouse, but wearing it felt like armor.

My hands trembled the whole drive. I didn’t know what I would find.

I just knew I had to know.

The school hallway smelled like crayons and floor polish. The principal’s office had that old-paper smell—lemons and worn-out books. I sat outside the door, knees bouncing, palms sweaty.

Then it opened.

And there he was.

Not Tom.

Wes.

Tom’s younger brother.

He had the same jawline, same brown eyes, just softer around the edges. He wore a blue button-down and jeans.

His hair was a little messy, and his expression was nervous—almost guilty.

But Tyler—Tyler was standing beside him, holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

My breath caught. My mouth went dry.

My heart sank, and my mind raced.

“Mrs. Carter,” the principal beamed. “So nice to see you again.

What a lovely family.”

Family. The word hit me like a slow bell. Ringing.

Ringing. Ringing.

I nodded. Smiled like a woman who still had everything together.

After the meeting, I led Tyler to the car.

Buckled him in.

Then I turned to Wes.

We stood just outside the parking lot, under a maple tree that had started shedding its red-gold leaves like quiet confessions.

The wind blew gently, sending the dry ones skittering across the pavement.

It should’ve been peaceful. But my heart beat too loud in my chest, and my hands wouldn’t stay still.

I folded my arms tight across my chest. “You want to tell me what the hell that was?” My voice came out low and tight, sharper than I meant it, but I couldn’t help it.

Wes looked like a kid who’d been caught sneaking cookies from the jar—head lowered, shoulders hunched, eyes full of guilt.

“Tyler called me,” he said finally, voice small.

“Said he didn’t want to be the only one without a dad there. He begged me, Emma.”

My name sounded different coming from him—too familiar, too raw. It hit something soft in me, and I hated that it did.

“So you lied to an entire school?” I snapped, the anger bubbling up again.

I didn’t care how soft his voice was or how sorry he looked.

“I didn’t lie,” Wes said, shaking his head. “Tyler introduced me. I just… didn’t correct anyone.

I didn’t say I was Tom. I just stood there.”

I looked away, down at the gravel under our feet. One small rock had caught in my shoe, and it dug at my heel with every breath I took.

“You should’ve told me,” I muttered.

“I know,” he said quietly.

“I was afraid you’d say no. And he needed someone. I just wanted to be there for him.”

My throat tightened.

I stared at the car, at Tyler in the backseat.

He was humming to himself, smiling, drawing shapes into the foggy glass with his finger. Happy. For once, truly happy.

“He’s not ready, is he?” I asked, my voice soft now.

Wes shook his head.

“No. He’s trying, though. He misses Tom.

A lot. We both do.”

There was something in his voice, something honest and gentle. It made me remember the quiet ways Wes had always helped—fixing the gutters, carrying heavy boxes, showing up when no one else did.

He never tried to replace Tom.

He just… stayed close.

“I didn’t want Tyler to lie,” I said.

“He didn’t lie,” Wes replied. “He just needed to believe in something. Just for a day.

That someone would be there.”

I sighed, long and heavy. Maybe it wasn’t really lying. Maybe it was just love, dressed up in a story.

“We can’t keep this up,” I said, watching the leaves fall one by one.

“I know,” Wes nodded.

“But maybe we can help him let go. Together.”

His hand brushed mine. It was warm and still.

Not grabbing. Not pushing. Just there.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t pull away.

I let him stand beside me in the silence. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t feel quite so alone.

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