We get back to Justin’s place, and when Cooper gets out of the truck, he opens the back door and grabs Dylan, holding his hand until Justin is there beside him and he reaches his hand up so Justin picks him up. “It’s going to be okay.”

Cooper’s phone rings, and then he looks at Matthew. “Do they bring the food over?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says, and he has this conversation as if we aren’t here. “Maybe have Michael come over so he doesn’t have to think about anything.”

Cooper gets back on the phone, and I suddenly just need to lie down. My head is almost spinning. “I need to lie down,” I tell Justin, who just nods his head. When we get into the house, I walk straight to the bedroom, and Dylan follows us. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I put my hand to my stomach, and I make it to the bathroom just in time before everything comes out, and I hear Dylan start to cry again.

“She’s going to be okay, buddy.” I hear Matthew say. “Justin would never let anything happen to her,” he says, and then the door closes, and Justin is there behind me, holding out a cold rag.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, squatting in front of me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, the tears flowing now as I look at him. “I’m so sorry I brought this to you, and that your family had to see that.”

“You have nothing,” he says quietly, “nothing to be sorry about.”

“Dylan,” I say right before the sob rips through me, and I put my hand in front of my mouth so he doesn’t hear. “I never wanted him to hear that. Ever.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, taking me in his arms and sitting on the floor. “Please stop.” We sit here until my sobbing stops, and my eyes feel so heavy it hurts to have them open.

“I don’t think he means it,” I say. “I mean, the bitch part he means, but the part about Dylan.”

“Shh,” Justin says. “The last thing you need to do is make excuses for him.”

I get up now. “Dylan,” I say his name, and Justin gets up, and we walk out of the room and see that Matthew and Cooper are in the living room talking in whispers. “I’m going to check on him.”

“Okay,” Justin says. “I’ll be right in.” He kisses my lips, and I walk to the game room. Dylan is lying on the couch with the television off, just looking at the wall.

“Baby,” I say, sitting beside him and rubbing his head. “Are you okay?”

“He hates me,” he says the words I never wanted him to say. “He called me a piece of shit.”