The words slammed into the room.
I looked at the man I’d been married to for two years. His face was red. His eyes were damp at the corners. He wasn’t defending Diane. He was defending the “good son” in his own head — and that version of him had to come down before he could ever truly stand on my side.
“I never wanted to turn everything into money.” My voice was so low I was almost talking to myself. “She priced this house first. I just wanted to buy it back. But you don’t want to buy it back. You want to keep owing her — because as long as you owe her, you’re still her son.”
Jake’s chest heaved. He didn’t shout again.
Diane didn’t look victorious. She just turned, walked into the kitchen, and ran the water to wash dishes. The water ran loud, like she was the one in this house who’d been wronged.
