The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Chapter 13

“Abby, no splashing,” I say from the pool deck.

“Sorry,” she replies breathlessly as she pops her head out of the water. Then she and my niece, Felicity, dive back in together. Their little feet kick water all over me and my sister.

Juliet is sitting in the pool chair next to me. She’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat and large round sunglasses and sipping sweet tea out of a Mason jar.

My sister is the only friend I have left. And I enjoy spending time with her, especially without our mother around. Juliet naturally sides with her on most things. And the two of them make me feel like the odd one of the bunch.

We used to have more friends over for playdates or game nights. Our neighborhood was a much friendlier place before everything happened last year with Caleb’s family.

Now, Juliet is the only one who still comes around.

Abby and Felicity are swimming in the pool, diving to the bottom to retrieve the little sticks that we have to toss in every five minutes.

“Are you signing Abby up for ballet again this year?” Juliet asks.

“She doesn’t want to do ballet,” I reply with a sigh.

“Oh, that’s a bummer.”

Overhearing our conversation, Abby pops out of the water and pulls the goggles off her eyes.

“Mommy, I want to do karate,” she says enthusiastically.

“I know, peanut. Daddy and I are going to sign you up for karate,” I answer proudly.

Already, I can sense my sister gearing up her argument with the way she purses her lips and plasters a fake smile on her face. “Are you sure you don’t want to be in ballet with Felicity, Abby? There are a lot of little girls in there.”

“I’m sure,” my daughter replies, and I smile proudly at her.

Juliet gives me a shrug as if to say she tried, and I appreciate her for not pushing the topic more. My parents constantly pressed us to do things we didn’t want when we were kids. I remember wanting to go to theater camp in middle school, but my mother insisted I was more suited for cheerleading, so that’s what I did.

I even had myself convinced that I loved it.

“So,” Juliet starts in a hushed tone. “Kyle told me about you-know-who.”

My sister and I have made a deal not to talk about the scandal or anything revolving Truett Goode in front of our kids. It usually means we have to speak in code, but we’ve gotten pretty good at it by this point.

“And his attempted schmurder charges,” she adds.

I’m wringing my hands in my seat. I had to hear about the charges through social media instead of from my husband, but I didn’t have the heart to press him about it. I know that Caleb is carrying a lot of stress over his father’s case and what happened to Sage.

But I wish he’d open up to me about it. I wish we had that kind of marriage where we could lean on each other in moments like this. Instead, he’s closing himself off entirely.

I glance sideways at our kids in the pool as I reply, “Yeah, I know.”

“Have you and Caleb talked about it?” she asks.

Letting out a disgruntled sigh, I shake my head. “Not really. I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”

Instead, it’s been hovering around us for over a week, like an ominous elephant in the room.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Juliet says. “I was sort of hoping they would have gone with a lesser charge. It’d be so much less complicated. I’m ready for the day when we can forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“I know,” I mumble to myself, although I know our family will never forget about it. But I don’t argue with her. I think what she wants is for me to agree with her, but deep down, I’m glad he was charged with attempted murder. I hope he’s found guilty, and I hope he spends the rest of his miserable life in jail. I don’t care that he’s my husband’s father or my daughter’s grandfather.

“Oh my god,” my sister whispers under her breath, disrupting my train of thought.

I follow her gaze and spin toward the garage to see Dean walking down the stairs with his keys and phone in his hands.

He’s dressed casually today in a pair of tight jeans and a loose black shirt. His tattoos peek out from the sleeves, but it’s the aviators on his face that add to the look and have my sister and I speechless as we watch him approach us.

He lifts a hand awkwardly in greeting, and we return the gesture.

Standing from the pool chair, I take a clumsy step toward him.

“Dean, this is my sister, Juliet,” I say, gesturing to her. “Juliet, this is Dean Sheridan. He is the new tenant in our garage apartment.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says politely, with a curt nod.

“Yeah…” she stutters. “Nice to meet you, too.”

The air grows awkward quickly as it’s obvious just how much she’s checking him out. Suddenly, I find myself standing between them as if I can block her view.

“Dean,” Abby calls from the pool. “Look how long I can hold my breath!”

With that, she plunges her face under the water, and I glance up at him sheepishly.

“I told her what you were doing in the pool that day, and she’s been practicing ever since.”

Abby only lasts about twenty seconds before she pops her head up for air.

“Very impressive,” he says flatly.

“Good job, honey,” I add, to boost her confidence. Then I turn back toward him. “Is everything okay?”

He nods. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

I swallow my disappointment. Just once, I wish he would need something that I could provide.

“Okay, sorry, we won’t keep you,” I say to him. “But let me know if you need anything.”

After he shuffles in place for a moment, he waves goodbye and gets into his car.

It’s awkwardly quiet for a few minutes after he pulls away before my sister starts.

“Well, he’s interesting,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“And not very good with kids.”

“I mean, he’s young,” I say, defending him.

“He’s also very good-looking,” she replies quietly.

“Is he?” I reply, staring forward. “I hadn’t really noticed.”

She starts laughing, and I chuckle to myself.

“It would drive Kyle crazy to know a good-looking young man like that was living on our property while he was gone all day.”

My laughter dies as I start to pick at my nails nervously.

Is it driving Caleb crazy? I mean, the other night, he did act a little strange when I was up late, and I suspect he might have seen Dean was also up late, but why wouldn’t he just say something?

Is it weird that I sort of wish it was driving Caleb crazy? Maybe a little jealousy would do him some good. I want him to start acting like my husband.

Pick a fight about Dean. Be territorial. Lose his mind.

Tell me how much I belong to him.

He doesn’t do any of that.

And the more I think about it, the more depressed I feel.

“Yeah,” I lie. “It drives Caleb crazy too.”