Homecoming

Chapter 17

Since I was off today, there was nothing to stop me from getting up in the morning and going to see the boys before I left for school. On the way to them, I stopped at a bakery and bought them fresh croissants for breakfast, because the boys adored sweets.

It was pleasantly warm outside and it was slowly ending June. I parked my car next to the garage and unlocked the front door to the villa. As I expected, there was a deep silence in the house. Max was probably still asleep, and the boys must have been going to school and kindergarten in their room.

I realized that something was wrong, on the way to the kitchen, when I slipped twice on the floor in the hallway. The floor was wet, but the sight of it in the kitchen took my breath away. Green grape berries were on the ground, and it looked as if someone had tried to wash it, but not thoroughly. Even without having to ask anyone, I subconsciously knew what had happened here. The more I imagined Jared running in the morning with a bucket and a mop right after waking up or, God forbid, the more fury grew in me. It couldn't go on like this.

With a sigh and immense anger at Max, I placed a bag of warm croissants on the breakfast counter. Then I took milk from the fridge and boiled it on the stove to make the cocoa for the boys. While the milk was heating up, I began to put dirty plates and used glasses from the table in the dishwasher. I was just wiping a table on which something was spilled and also grapes were bulging when the boys entered the room. They were both still wearing pajamas, and Jared was holding a bucket of clear water in one hand and a rag in the other.

"Kirsten," Garrett first noticed me and ran to me.

"Hello," I greeted him and lifted him into one arm with one swing. It was light, weighing barely twenty pounds. "Are you still in your pajamas?" I asked him.

"Yes," he smiled at me and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"So go back to the room now and change," I told him, setting him back on the floor. "So shup-shup," I said, escorting him out of the room.

I waited until he got upstairs, then walked over to Jared and ruffled his hair with his hand.

"Dad came to the pier again, didn't he?" I asked him directly. I didn't have to embellish things because Jared was aware of the serious situation at home.

"No, he was just a little drunk," he replied, but he avoided my gaze.

"Sure," I snorted. He kept defending him. On the one hand, I understood him. Max, whatever he was, he was his father, but on the other hand he didn't want to admit the cruel truth.

Jared blushed slightly, bent down, and began washing the floor around the dining table. I stood there for a moment, feeling uncomfortable in my stomach.

"Get out of here," I said in a sharper tone than I had planned, snatching the rag from his hand. "You go upstairs too and get ready for school. I'll work it out later. "

"Okay," he said quietly. He didn't argue with me and walked upstairs without a word.

It was hot in me. I was angry not only with Max, but especially with myself. I was carried away by emotions, and not in the nicest tone, I talked to Jered, who couldn't do anything. He couldn't blame their father for being a first-class drunk, leaving their own mother in his hands, and he couldn't blame Garrett for replacing both parents at an early age. I was furious.

I squashed the rag back into the heat, poured cocoa, and went looking for the boys. First of all, I wanted to apologize to Jared for my inappropriate tone. I didn't want him to think I was mad at him. He was innocent in all this chaos, and he still licked my anger.

I knocked quietly on the door, but no one answered. As they left them in order, I formed them and saw the bottom. The room was empty. They were both in the bathroom, apparently washing. I didn't want to just break in with them, so first I started making the beds.