My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 08

My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 08

I landed in Wintersill, Maine, the coldest place my ticket could take me.

The moment I stepped off the plane, the cold cut straight through me.

I found a small inn half-buried in snow and sat by the fireplace until warmth slowly returned to my body.

Along with it came something that almost felt like peace.

I sipped hot cocoa and turned on my phone.

Messages flooded in instantly.

The screen froze for two seconds before it finally loaded.

289 messages.

77 missed calls.

Thayer and Tavish had nearly gone insane looking for me.

I skimmed a few.

Every voice message from Tavish was broken with sobs.

[Mom, I was wrong. I’ll never speak up for anyone else again. Please forgive me.]

[Don’t leave. I can’t live without you.]

Thayer was no better. He cried so hard his words blurred together.

[Izzy, please answer me. I’m begging you. I saw the report. I know

—

about the baby. Please don’t disappear on me. I don’t want a divorce.]

My heart did not move at all.

[I’m fine. I signed the divorce settlement. Tavish stays with you. Sign it if you have no objections.]

[Divorce me. I mean it.]

His reply came within seconds.

[No. I won’t divorce you.]

[Where are you? I’m coming to find you right now.]

I did not respond again.

Divorcing Thayer Wescott would not be simple.

I was not in a hurry.

I settled down in Wintersill.

The innkeeper made excellent hot cocoa, and there was an orange tabby downstairs I could pet.

Every day, I stayed in my room and drew quietly.

When I finished my pages, I went outside to play in the snow.

Every first snow, Thayer and I used to build a snowman together.

This year, I tried making one by myself.

It was a little ugly.

But I was happy.

—

I was taking a picture of it when Thayer appeared.

He looked thinner, worn down by travel, his eyes webbed with red.

The second he saw me, tears fell.

Tavish rushed into my arms, crying.

“Mom. I missed you. I’m sorry.”

I wanted to push him away.

But his body felt so thin under my hands that I still wrapped my coat around him.

“Izzy…” Thayer stared at me without blinking. “I finally found you.”

Three years ago, I got lost during a hike, and he insisted on putting a location tracker on my phone.

I had forgotten about something that old.

He had dug it up to find me.

The snow fell harder.

I sighed and rubbed my cold hands together.

“Come upstairs first. It’s too cold.”

Thayer and Tavish followed behind me like shadows.

The innkeeper glanced over and asked, “Your husband and son?”

I smiled and shook my head.

“Almost ex-husband.”

—

The light in Thayer’s eyes went out at once.

I opened the door to my room and left Thayer and Tavish standing outside.

Inside, the air held the faint trace of my own cedar perfume.

Tavish tried to squeeze in.

Thayer pleaded from the hallway.

“Izzy, I was wrong. We looked for you for so long. Wintersill is freezing, and Tavish hasn’t even eaten yet. Let us in so we can talk, please.”

Tavish nodded quickly and clung to my leg.

“Mom, please. Let me in.”

Before, that move had worked on me every time.

Now, I gently removed his hand.

My voice was cold.

“Thayer Wescott, you have enough money to get another room for Tavish.”

Then I looked him in the eye.

“I’ll say it again. I want a divorce.”

The door closed hard between them.

That night, I booked a furnished apartment on the far side of town.

—

I would move tomorrow.

—

The next morning, I slipped out before dawn.

The innkeeper was already awake, feeding the orange tabby. She looked up as I passed with my suitcase.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Time to move on.”

She nodded, not asking questions. “Take care of yourself, dear.”

I smiled and stepped out into the snow.

The apartment was small but warm. The landlord had left a pot of soup on the counter and a note: *Welcome to Wintersill.*

I unpacked my few belongings, sat by the window with a cup of tea, and watched the snow fall.

My phone buzzed. Thayer again.

[Where are you?]

[I came to your room, but you were gone.]

[Izzy, please. Don’t do this.]

I didn’t reply.

I turned off my phone, picked up my sketchbook, and started drawing.

The snow was falling thicker now, blanketing the world in white.

I thought about the snowman I had built alone.

A little ugly.

But mine.

And I smiled.