### Chapter 11 “How’s your day going, sweetheart?” I ask Noal, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear while tackling a heap of laundry. Balancing chores and conversation is not easy, but the pain in my shoulder has started to ease, making it a little more manageable. “It’s awesome!” he exclaims, his voice bursting through the receiver like a firework. “We just had ice cream, and now we’re heading to the slides that go right into the ocean!” His sheer excitement radiates through the phone, wrapping me in warmth. His joy feeds my own, and I couldn't be happier knowing he is safe and having the time of his life. “That’s great, baby! I told you you’d have tons of fun,” I reply, my heart swelling with pride. “What about you, Mommy? How’s your weekend?” His innocent inquiry makes my smile waver a bit. What could I possibly say? Boring as ever. My eight-year-old son is off creating memories while I’m left with the monotonous drudgery of housework. I have no friends to invite me out, and it seems my colleagues have given up trying after I repeatedly declined their offers. They only ever invited me because they felt obligated—not because they genuinely wanted to include me in their lives. “Uh, it’s okay… just doing some cleaning,” I murmur, not wanting to burden him with my loneliness. I hear him sigh on the other end. “Mom, you need to go out and have fun like I am! I don’t want you sitting at home all alone while I’m off having adventures.” Why does that made me feel so chastised? “I will, I just need to finish my chores first,” I lie, knowing full well that my post-cleaning plan involves binge-watching movies and indulging in junk food—or simply catching up on some much-needed sleep. All options seem enticing. “Fine, I have to go now. Pa is calling for me,” he says, reluctantly pulling away from our chat. “Okay, my love. I’ll talk to you tonight,” I reply, trying to keep my voice cheerful. “Bye! And Grandma says hi,” he adds, his youthful excitement still shining through. Noah has always referred to his grandparents as "Grandma" and "Pa," while Rowan’s parents are simply "Pa" and "Ma." “That’s nice. Just be careful on the slides!” I call out, completely dismissing the greeting extended from his grandmother. Noah hangs up, excitement bubbling through him, blissfully unaware that I overlooked a gesture of goodwill. Normally, nothing escapes his notice, a trait he inherited from his father, but today he was consumed by joy. I set the phone down with a gentle smile and return to my chores, but I finish surprisingly quickly. Instead of diving into a movie, I sift through the biology essays my students have submitted. To my delight, they are performing splendidly! I have to admit, I’m a damn good teacher, and my subject has consistently proven to be the best in the school. I’m nearly finished when my phone buzzes again, making my heart leap when I see Ethan’s name flashing on the screen. This was completely unexpected. “Hello?” I answer, uncertainty lacing my voice, part of me wondering if he had dialed the wrong number. “Hi, Ava… are you busy?” he asks. I realize this is no mistake after all. “Not particularly, why?” I reply, curiosity piqued. “I heard you’re not at the shooting range with the rest of your family. I thought we could drive there together.” His words confuse me. “Why would I be at a shooting range?” “Because they all went for some training in case they ever got into trouble. They were advised to get firearms licenses,” he explains. I had no idea about any of this, but it makes sense. Being armed could be essential when dealing with a dangerous gang, and part of me wanted to be upset that no one had informed me, but the rest of me felt detached. “They can all deal with their own problems,” I think bitterly. “Can I come pick you up?” Ethan asks, snapping me back to reality. I have no other plans, and the idea of hanging out with Ethan again sounds enticing. “Sure,” I reply. “Great! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says before hanging up. I rush into my bedroom, eager to find something decent to wear—an outfit suited for an afternoon with Ethan. True to his word, he arrives in exactly ten minutes, and we’re off. “So, what made you decide to become an officer of the law?” I ask, turning to face him, enjoying the comfortable atmosphere that envelops us. There’s something undeniably soothing about being with him, a feeling I haven’t experienced with another adult in ages. “My dad was killed by a cop,” he replies nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. I frown, surprised by his revelation. “That would turn most people away from becoming cops,” I remark, skeptical. “I know, but my father wasn’t a good man, nor was he a good father. When the cops took him down for selling illegal firearms, I felt relieved. Watching them clean up the streets by taking out trash like my dad—a man who thought he was untouchable—made me want to do the same. I want to help make my community a safe place.” He trails off, but I can sense there’s more beneath the surface. The disdain in his voice when speaking of his father suggests an abusive upbringing. I’ve taught children from similarly troubled homes, and I’ve always sought to support them. No child deserves such a fate. “And what inspired you to become a teacher?” he asks, intrigued. To my surprise, I share my story without holding back. “My parents didn’t give me the best childhood. I was neglected. But when I was around nine, I had this amazing teacher. She was everything I wished my mother could be; she cared, encouraged me, and offered comfort when I needed it. I’ve carried her kindness with me, and I wanted to be like her. Teaching felt right,” I confess, vulnerability slipping into my words. Miss Olivia had been my beacon of hope, my sanctuary in a world that often felt dark and lonely, and her impact on my life is something I’ll always cherish. “Wow,” Ethan responds, awe coloring his voice. A comfortable silence envelops us for a moment before he surprises me with another question. “I know you have a kid, but are you single?” The question catches me off-guard. Why would he want to know? Perhaps to fill the silence? “Divorced,” I reply, a little defensive. “Well, I suppose that gives me permission to shoot my shot,” he smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I chuckle at the playful banter. Surely he’s joking. There’s no way he’s serious about pursuing me. If he were, he would surely lose interest when he sees Emma. If ‘my family’ is indeed here, like he said, he’d inevitably be entranced by my sister's beauty, just like all the boys in high school had been. Before long, we arrive at the shooting range. We step out of the car; Ethan introduces me to his colleagues and friends. Finally, we reach the action. The others are already there: Rowan, Emma, Travis, and Gabe are all in the thick of it. Gabe and Travis are taking their shots while Emma sits off to the side. Rowan spins around from talking to her, his brows knitting into a frown upon seeing us. “Who invited you?” he demands as he strides over, standing next to Ethan and me. “Not you, obviously,” I retort, irritation bubbling to the surface. “I tried to call to let you know, but you never picked up,” he shoots back, irritation lacing his voice. “You obviously didn’t try hard enough,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. Regrettably, I’m already feeling annoyed, and I’ve barely been there for five minutes. I start to wish I had asked Ethan if we could reschedule. Before Rowan can spew more hostility, Ethan pulls me away. “Come on, let’s get you fitted,” he says firmly. I glance back for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of Emma glaring daggers at me. If looks could kill, I would be six feet under. I sigh heavily, knowing that this day is just beginning and I’m already bracing myself for a headache. I should have just stayed home…