Soon after, he told me Sarah was comfortable with him spending time with Leo.
“I’ll take him to baseball practice every Saturday,” he said. “We’ll grab food after. Just… guy time.”
And that became our new normal. Every Saturday morning at seven sharp, Mark was out the door.
“Practice,” he’d say, grabbing his keys with unusual urgency. “Then burgers. Maybe something else.”
Everyone praised him. They called him generous. Selfless. Even I believed it.
About a month in, I suggested we help more.
“Why not bring Leo here after practice?” I asked. “I’ll cook. Sarah must be exhausted.”
Mark hesitated in the doorway.
“That might complicate things.”
“Complicate what?” I asked, confused. “It’s just dinner.”
He stared at the wall for a long moment before nodding stiffly. “Okay. We’ll try.”
The first time Leo came over, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
He stood in the entryway gripping his backpack like armor. He looked tense, like he was waiting for instructions.
We baked cookies together, and later I began reading him a chapter from Harry Potter. He was polite. Sweet.
But Mark sat at the kitchen table watching us the entire time. I could feel his gaze on me. Leo kept sneaking nervous glances at him.
Last Saturday, practice ended early because of rain. Mark brought Leo home but was irritable, complaining of a headache. He said he needed to run to the pharmacy.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Leo changed.
The stiffness disappeared, replaced with anxious energy. He sat at the kitchen table, gripping a crayon so tightly his knuckles turned pale.
“You don’t lie,” he said quietly.
It was an odd, heavy thing for a child to say.
“I try not to,” I answered gently.
He looked toward the door, making sure Mark was gone. Then he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
“But Mark lies,” he whispered. “I wasn’t supposed to take this. I took it from Daddy’s casket. Before they closed it.”
A chill ran through me.
“Mark put it there,” Leo continued. “He slid it under Daddy’s hand. I saw him. I waited until he walked away.”
He pushed the paper toward me.
“It’s bad. You should read it.”
My fingers trembled as I unfolded it.
The first sentence made my stomach drop.
“David, I need you to take this secret to the grave with you…”
My knees weakened, and I sank into the nearest chair.
I never wanted you to know, because it would only hurt you, but I love Sarah. I always have.
I never acted on it. I swear that. I would never do that to you. But pretending I didn’t feel it nearly broke me. Watching you build the life I imagined, raising the son I would have given anything to protect…
I’m not going to try to replace you, but I will step in, now that you’re gone, to make sure they’re never alone.
Forgive me for loving what was never mine.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“That’s why he gets upset sometimes,” Leo said quietly.
I forced myself to stay calm for him. “Upset? When does he get upset, Leo?”
“When Mom doesn’t answer his messages fast enough. Or when she says he can’t come inside after he drops me off.”
My stomach clenched. “Messages? What messages, sweetheart?”
Leo hesitated.
“He says he’s just checking on Mom while I’m with him. That Dad would’ve wanted that. But when she doesn’t text back, his face gets… scary.”
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