Chapter 6 - The Fallout
Monday, December 28, 2026, arrived with a grey, biting drizzle that turned the remaining snow into slush.
While Grandma June bustled around the kitchen making scrambled eggs and toast, Dad sat at the small writing desk by the window, talking in low, measured tones on his phone. Through the closed door, I could catch snippets of his conversation: "...need to pick up some more of my clothes..." "...we can meet at a neutral location..." "...yes, my lawyer has already been briefed."
Brooke hadn't backed down. True to her dramatic nature, she had doubled down on her narrative. According to mutual friends who had messaged Dad over the weekend, Brooke was telling everyone at her country club and her book club that my father had "abandoned his family on Christmas Day over a minor misunderstanding about shipping delays."
She had even managed to frame herself as the victim of my grandmother’s "meddling hostility."
I sat at the dining table with my new drawing tablet propped up on its stand, sketching the details of a snowy owl. The digital stylus felt smooth and precise against the screen, every stroke responding instantly to the pressure of my hand.
Dad walked into the dining room, his face a mask of exhausted determination. He hung his phone up in his pocket and pulled out the chair next to mine.
"How’s the digital art coming along, Luce?" he asked, forcing a tired smile.
"It’s amazing," I said, showing him a completed sketch of the owl. "I can layer colors without smudging them."
He smiled, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Good. Because we have a change of plans regarding your trip to Cincinnati."
I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. "What kind of change?"
"Your mom and I talked on the phone last night," Dad explained, pulling up a chair. "Given everything that’s happening with the separation and the house, she offered to come up a few days early, or alternatively, I can drive you down to Cincinnati tomorrow morning so you can settle into her apartment comfortably without having to ride the Greyhound bus alone."
"Can you drive me?" I asked quickly. The thought of spending four uninterrupted hours in the car with just my dad—talking about normal things, without Brooke’s shadow looming over us—sounded like paradise.
"I wouldn't want it any other way," Dad said softly. "And after I drop you off with your mom, I’m checking into a downtown hotel here in Columbus for a few days while my lawyer handles the temporary housing agreement for the house. Brooke has agreed to let me pack my remaining things tomorrow morning while she’s at her sister's."
"Are you going to see Wyatt?" I asked.
May you like
Dad’s expression softened into something melancholic. "I talked to him last night before he went to sleep. He’s confused, Lucy. Brooke is filling his head with her version of events, but Wyatt’s a smart kid. He knows what happened under that tree. I told him that no matter what happens between Brooke and me, I am still his dad, and my door will always be open to him."
Grandma June walked in carrying a steaming platter of toast. "And if that boy has any sense, he’ll call his father when the dust settles. Now, who wants more coffee, and who wants to help me pack up leftover Christmas ham?"
