Chapter 1: The Boy Who Wasn't Welcome
That filthy little burden is back again? I need to find a way to get rid of him.
Denise smiled.
Not a word escaped her lips. To anyone watching, she looked like a perfectly pleasant woman welcoming her stepson home for the weekend.
But inside her head, the words were sharp enough to cut.
Miles had barely stepped through the front door when Denise grabbed the handle of his overnight bag.
"Here we go again," she muttered under her breath.
Before the fifteen-year-old could even take off his jacket, she dragged his bag across the hallway and placed it on the front porch.
The wheels rattled against the wooden threshold.
Through the open doorway, the living room told a completely different story.
Tessa, Denise's twelve-year-old daughter, was arranging colorful cushions across the sofa. Two sleeping bags lay on the carpet. A pile of blankets sat beside a bowl of popcorn.
Her friends were coming over for a sleepover.
And apparently, Miles was not invited to his own home.
Denise released the bag handle.
Miles stared at it.
Then he looked at her.
"Mom said I could come this weekend," he said quietly.
"It's my weekend with Dad.""
Denise brushed an imaginary piece of dust from her sleeve.
"Then switch to another weekend.""
She said it as casually as someone changing a dinner reservation.
Miles blinked.
"But Dad told me Friday through Sunday.""
"Plans change, Miles.""
He glanced toward the living room.
Tessa was placing another pillow on the sofa, humming along to a song playing from her phone.
She hadn't even bothered to look at him.
"My friends are coming soon," Tessa announced.
Miles swallowed.
"I can stay in my room," he offered.
"I won't bother anyone. I can just—"
"Not tonight.""
Denise cut him off immediately.
She didn't even turn around.
Miles looked down at his sneakers.
His room was the one place in the house where he still felt he belonged. His old basketball posters were on the walls. His books were on the shelf. His childhood photographs were still inside the drawer.
He had spent the entire school week looking forward to sleeping in that room.
Now even that seemed to be too much to ask.
The front door opened again.
Leon stepped inside, still wearing his work shirt. He carried two grocery bags in one hand and his car keys in the other.
He stopped when he saw Miles standing in the doorway.
Then he noticed the overnight bag on the porch.
"What's going on?""
Denise turned immediately.
Her expression softened so quickly that Miles almost wondered whether he'd imagined the woman who had just thrown his belongings outside.
"You're home early, honey.""
Leon looked at the bag.
"Why is Miles's luggage outside?""
Denise gave a small laugh.
"Oh, it's nothing dramatic. Tessa has friends coming over tonight, and they're staying the night.""
Leon glanced past her.
He saw the sleeping bags, blankets, cushions, and snacks.
Then he looked at Miles.
"So?""
Denise sighed.
"Well, we need the space.""
Leon set one grocery bag on the kitchen counter.
"The girls can use Tessa's room.""
Denise's smile disappeared.
"That's not what I want.""
Leon turned toward her.
"What do you mean?""
She lowered her voice, although Miles was standing only a few feet away.
"I want him gone.""
The words landed heavily in the hallway.
Miles stared at the floor.
He had heard Denise complain about him before. He had heard her tell Leon that the house was too crowded, that weekends were inconvenient, that having a teenager around disrupted their routine.
But hearing her say she wanted him gone felt different.
It sounded final.
Leon looked at his wife for several seconds.
Then he did something Denise clearly hadn't expected.
He picked up the grocery bags, placed them on the kitchen counter, and walked straight toward the porch.
He grabbed Miles's overnight bag.
With his other hand, he rested his palm on his son's shoulder and guided him across the threshold.
Both Miles and his bag were now inside.
"You're staying," Leon said.
Miles looked up.
"Dad?""
"You're my son. This is your home, too.""
Denise folded her arms.
"Fine. Then I'll cancel the sleepover.""
Tessa stopped arranging pillows.
Her expression changed instantly.
"Mom?""
Denise looked at her daughter.
"Apparently, we're not allowed to have anything nice in this house.""
Miles immediately bent down toward his bag.
"I can go, Dad. It's okay. I don't want Tessa to lose her sleepover.""
Leon caught the handle before Miles could lift it.
"No.""
"But—"
"You're not going anywhere.""
Leon turned toward Denise.
"Call the parents. Tell them why the sleepover is canceled.""
Denise stared at him.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then she snatched her phone from the kitchen counter.
"You really want me to do that?""
Leon didn't answer.
Denise pressed a contact and put the phone to her ear.
The call connected.
"Hello?"" a woman answered.
Denise glanced at Tessa, who was standing beside the sofa with a cushion pressed against her chest.
Then she looked at Miles.
He was standing beside his father, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack.
The woman on the phone asked again.
"Denise? Is everything okay? We're getting ready to bring the girls over.""
Denise opened her mouth.
For the first time that evening, she seemed unable to find the right words.
What was she going to say?
That she had kicked her husband's son out of the house because her daughter wanted a sleepover?
Or that she had canceled the entire event because her husband refused to send his child away?
Her eyes shifted toward Leon.
He stood completely still.
Waiting.
And the woman on the phone spoke again.
"Denise? What's happened?""
Denise's lips parted.
But before she could answer, Tessa whispered something that made her mother turn sharply.
"Mom, don't tell them about Miles.""
And suddenly, Leon wasn't looking at his wife anymore.
May you like
He was looking at his stepdaughter.
Because why would Tessa be afraid of what her friends' parents might hear?
