Chapter 13
Martha didn't say anything after the playback ended. The phone screen went black in my hand and the kitchen stayed quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. Leo was still pressed against my leg, his overalls bunched in his fists.
Connor stood at the other side of the island. He hadn't moved since the video stopped. His mouth was closed now, his hands flat on the marble like he needed something to hold him up.
Martha made a small sound then, not words, just air. She shifted her weight and her coat rustled.
"It's not —" she started, and her voice was too loud.
Leo flinched. I felt it before I saw it, the sharp jerk of his whole body against my calf. He didn't cry. He ducked behind me completely, both hands grabbing the back of my skirt, his forehead pressed hard into my thigh. I put my hand down without looking and covered his small hands with mine.
Martha's voice had done that. No one had touched him, but he'd hidden.
"Lower your voice," I said to her. I kept my own voice even. It was the first thing I'd said since the video, and my throat felt raw.
Connor saw him too. He saw Leo disappear behind my legs.
"Leo?" he said, soft now.
Leo didn't answer. He squeezed tighter.
I crouched then, turning just enough that I could see him. His curls were damp at his temples, his eyes wide and wet and fixed on the floor. He wasn't looking at any of us. He was listening for what would happen next.
"You're okay," I whispered to him. "I'm right here."
Martha tried again, quieter this time. "I didn't hit her. I was trying to keep him from —"
I didn't let her finish. I stood up slowly and kept my hand on Leo's back.
"He asked why everyone hits mom," I said. I looked at Martha when I said it, then at Connor. "That's what he said. Twelve seconds after you hit me, Connor. That's what he learned to ask."
The words hung there. I hadn't planned to say them like that, but they were the truest thing in the room. I could feel Leo breathing fast against my leg.
Connor's face changed. The color that had been high in his cheeks when he was angry was gone. He stared at the place where Leo was hiding, then at my cheek. My cheek still burned.
"I didn't think —" he said, and stopped.
I waited. Martha opened her mouth, but Connor held up a hand to her without looking at her. It was a small gesture, but it stopped her.
"I did it in front of him," Connor said. His voice was low and hoarse. "I walked in and I hit you in front of our son. He saw me do it."
He said it plainly, no excuse attached. For the first time that afternoon, he wasn't explaining or defending. He was just naming what happened.
Martha made another soft protest. "Connor, you were protecting me —"
"He was three feet away," Connor said, still looking at me and Leo. "He was right there. I didn't even look where he was."
Leo peeked out then, just his eyes over the side of my skirt. He looked at his dad. Connor crouched down, but not too close. He kept the island between them, kept his hands where Leo could see them.
"Buddy," Connor said. His voice cracked. "I'm sorry you saw that. That was wrong. I shouldn't have hit Mom. Ever. But especially not with you here."
Leo didn't come out. He pressed his cheek back into my leg and his fingers twisted harder into my skirt.
I rested my hand on his head, steady and light. I could feel his heart hammering even through my palm.
I looked at Martha over his head. She was standing by the glass door now, her arms crossed tight over her coat, as if she was cold. She wasn't looking at Leo. She was looking at Connor as if she'd lost her footing.
"This is what he carries," I said to both of them, quiet enough that Leo had to feel more than hear it. "Not who was right about the grab or who was disrespected. He asks why the people who are supposed to keep him safe hit his mom. That's the whole question for him."
Connor nodded, his eyes still on Leo. "He can't see this again," he said. "He can't be in a room where people raise hands to each other. Or voices."
Martha's jaw worked. For a second I thought she would argue. Then she looked down at Leo, really looked at him hidden behind me, and something in her shoulders dropped.
"No," she said, almost inaudible. "He can't."
Leo's breathing had started to slow. I felt his grip ease a fraction. He wasn't ready to let go, but he wasn't bracing as hard.
"We agree on that, then," I said. "No more raised voices around him. No more grabbing. No more hitting. If we can't promise that, we can't be around him together."
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Connor stood up. He didn't come closer to me or to Leo. He just stayed where he was and said, "We can. We will."
He said it to Leo more than to me, and this time Leo lifted his head a little higher to listen.
