Chapter 21 Mikayla

Chapter 21 Mikayla
Mikayla’s first time coming over did not happen because it was a good idea.

It happened because Tessa needed an excuse that sounded practical enough to survive Mikayla’s mouth. Mikayla had been asking questions for days, the kind of questions that pretended to be casual but were really careful prodding. How is the house. How is the kid. How is he. Tessa had dodged most of it with facts, but the pressure built anyway, especially after the parent-teacher meeting and the ride home that had been too quiet in a way that made Tessa’s skin itch.

So Tessa texted Mikayla one afternoon and framed it like a task.

Can you drop off the flashcards you made for Emma’s math stuff. It will help.

Mikayla responded immediately.

I will drop them off and also assess the rich people habitat for threats.

Tessa rolled her eyes at the screen, but her chest tightened anyway, because the idea of Mikayla standing inside the Saunders house made her feel weirdly defensive. She did not like that reaction, and she liked it even less that it arrived before Mikayla had even pulled into the driveway.

By the time Mikayla’s car turned into the gate, Tessa was already rehearsing calm explanations. Dropping something off. Helping for an hour. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that would turn into a story Mikayla could tease her with for the rest of the year.

The comfortable silence from the car ride replayed in her mind anyway, and she shoved the memory down hard.

Mikayla cannot possibly see anything that does not exist, Tessa told herself.

The statement felt like a lie the moment it formed.

Emma was in the living room building a block tower, tongue sticking out in concentration. Tessa sat on the floor beside her, helping steady the base, and she kept her voice light. “If you put the big one on top, it will fall,” she said.

Emma frowned. “I want it tall.”

“I know,” Tessa replied. “Tall and stable. We can have both.”

Emma considered that like it was a life lesson.

The doorbell rang.

Emma’s head snapped up, alert.

Tessa stood, smoothed her shirt, and went to the door.

Derek was not in the living room. He had been upstairs, changing after practice, and Tessa could hear faint movement overhead. That, too, felt normal now, which was still unsettling when she stopped to think about it.

She opened the door.

Mikayla stood on the porch with a tote bag slung over one shoulder and the kind of grin that announced she had already decided this visit was going to entertain her. She wore ripped jeans and a bright hoodie, hair pulled back, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

She stepped inside before Tessa could fully greet her.

“Oh,” Mikayla said, scanning the entryway. “It smells like money.”

Tessa shut the door behind her with controlled patience. “Hi to you too.”

Mikayla turned and hugged her quickly, then immediately resumed scanning like she was working a case. Her eyes moved fast, taking in the clean lines, the expensive furniture, the quiet calm that felt like it belonged in a magazine.

Family photos lined one shelf in the living room. A framed image of Emma between Caroline and Michael. A photo of Derek in a football uniform, smiling in a way that looked practiced. Another picture of Emma sitting in someone’s lap, the edge of the frame cutting off the adult’s face, like a missing piece the house did not want to name.

Mikayla’s gaze lingered there for a beat.

Then she looked at Emma.

Emma had stood from her blocks and moved closer to Tessa without thinking, hovering near her leg like it was instinctive. Mikayla noticed that too, the way Emma’s hand slid toward Tessa’s sleeve and rested there lightly.

Mikayla’s brows lifted a fraction.

She looked back at Tessa.

Then she looked around again, watching Tessa move through the house as if she knew the pathways. Tessa walked toward the living room and picked up a toy with her foot, nudging it aside to keep the floor clear. She did not hesitate. She did not ask where anything went. She simply moved like she belonged.

Mikayla’s expression sharpened.

Emma spoke up, voice small but firm. “Who are you.”

Mikayla’s grin widened. “I am Mikayla,” she said brightly. “I am Tessa’s best friend, and I brought you secret weapons.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Weapons.”

Tessa sighed. “Flashcards,” she corrected.

Mikayla crouched to Emma’s level, holding up the tote bag like it contained treasure. “Math weapons,” she said. “Very serious.”

Emma nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

The moment should have stayed there, light and easy, but Mikayla’s eyes flicked toward the stairs as footsteps sounded overhead.

She did not turn fully. She listened.

Tessa felt her own body tighten, a small tension in her shoulders that irritated her immediately. Mikayla was not supposed to matter in this house. Mikayla was outside. Mikayla was the world that talked. The world that observed and interpreted.

Mikayla straightened slowly, and her gaze stayed on the hallway more than the stairs, like she was watching for the shift in air, not the person.

Derek came down two steps at a time, hair still damp, practice bag slung over one shoulder. He looked distracted, gaze fixed ahead, until he reached the bottom and saw Mikayla standing in his living room.

He froze for half a beat.

The air between him and Tessa tightened, subtle but immediate, like a line had been pulled taut.

Mikayla did not look at his face first.

She looked at the space.

The air.

The distance.

Then she looked at him, and her expression turned into something polite and sharp at the same time, the kind of politeness that made Tessa’s stomach drop because it meant Mikayla was about to do something.

Derek’s gaze flicked to Tessa. “Who is that.”

Mikayla answered first. “The voice of reason.”

Tessa shot her a look. “Mikayla.”

Mikayla smiled sweetly. “Hi,” she said to Derek, voice loud and casual on purpose. “I’m Mikayla.”

Derek’s mouth tightened. He nodded once, minimal. “Derek.”

Emma chose that exact moment to interrupt, because Emma always had the worst timing and the best instincts. She grabbed Tessa’s hand and said, “We need to build a fort.”

Tessa’s voice shifted automatically, softer. “In a bit, okay. We have to do homework first.”

Derek spoke at the same time, tone steadier than his earlier sharpness. “Homework first.”

Emma’s eyes widened. She looked between them, then huffed like she had been betrayed by both adults at once.

Mikayla’s expression changed.

It was subtle, but Tessa saw it. Confirmation, like Mikayla had just been handed proof.

She looked at Tessa, then at Derek, then at the way Emma was still holding Tessa’s hand like it was the safest place in the room.

Mikayla’s mouth twitched, almost pleased.

Tessa’s chest tightened.

Mikayla shifted her tote bag on her shoulder and let her eyes travel over Derek again, taking in his posture, his controlled expression, the way he stood a little apart like he was guarding space even while pretending he did not care.

Then Mikayla spoke, loud enough for the living room to hear.

“Huh,” she said. “You’re less awful than advertised.”

The line dropped into the room like a pebble into still water.

Emma blinked, confused. “Awful.”

Tessa’s eyes widened. “Mikayla.”

Derek’s head turned slowly toward Mikayla, eyes narrowing. The first reaction on his face was irritation, the kind he wore easily, but he caught himself when he saw Tessa watching. His jaw tightened, and he shifted into something more controlled.

“Advertised,” Derek repeated, voice flat.

Mikayla smiled like she had done nothing wrong. “Yeah. Everyone talks about you like you’re a monster.”

Tessa felt heat flash under her skin.

She had the sudden, unmistakable impulse to defend him, to correct Mikayla, to say something that smoothed the moment. The urge shocked her, and she hated it so much she swallowed it down hard.

She was not defending Derek Saunders.

Not in his house.

Not in front of Mikayla.

Still, her voice came out sharper than she intended. “Mikayla, stop.”

Mikayla glanced at her, eyebrows lifting, and that was the problem. The look said, oh, interesting.

Derek watched the exchange with a tightening expression that suggested he was not sure who was attacking who, but he did not like the dynamic either way.

He spoke to Mikayla, voice cool. “Why are you here.”

Mikayla shrugged casually. “Dropping off flashcards.”

Derek’s gaze flicked to the tote bag. Then to Tessa. “You invited her.”

Tessa felt the defensive flare again. “She’s helping,” she said, then immediately regretted the way it sounded, like she needed backup.

Mikayla’s grin widened slightly, and she tilted her head like she was marking territory without even trying.

Derek’s eyes narrowed.

He thought Mikayla was marking territory.

Mikayla probably was, in her own way.

Emma tugged Tessa’s hand again. “Homework now.”

Tessa exhaled and nodded. “Okay,” she said, then looked at Mikayla. “Just… be normal.”

Mikayla gave a salute. “I am always normal.”

Tessa did not believe that for a second.

They moved to the kitchen table with Emma’s homework folder. Mikayla sat beside Emma and slid the flashcards out with a dramatic flourish. Emma’s eyes widened like she had been handed something magical. Tessa sat across from them, watching Emma’s face carefully, grateful for any moment that made her lighter.

Derek hovered near the doorway for a minute, pretending he was not listening, then moved toward the living room with his phone in his hand. He stayed within earshot anyway, which Mikayla noticed because Mikayla noticed everything.

Homework took fifteen minutes.

That was a miracle.

Mikayla made it a game. Emma answered questions with sudden confidence, and each correct answer earned her a sticker Mikayla had produced from her tote bag like she had planned this in advance.

Tessa watched, half amused and half relieved.

When Emma ran upstairs to wash her hands before snack, Mikayla took her chance.

She stepped into the kitchen closer to Tessa and lowered her voice. “Come here.”

Tessa’s stomach tightened immediately. “Mikayla.”

Mikayla jerked her head toward the hallway. “Now.”

Tessa followed her into the small space near the pantry, out of direct sight from the living room. It was not private, not truly, but it was enough that Mikayla could speak without performing.

Mikayla’s eyes held Tessa’s. “This house feels like a trap.”

Tessa’s jaw tightened. “It’s a house.”

“It’s a trap,” Mikayla repeated, unfazed. “It’s too quiet. It’s too perfect. It makes you forget your life exists outside these walls.”

Tessa felt irritation rise. “I do not forget my life.”

Mikayla’s eyebrows lifted. “You do not, but you are starting to move like you could. You open cabinets like you belong here. The kid clings to you like you’re permanent. And he watches you too much.”

Tessa’s mouth opened, denial ready.

Mikayla lifted a finger. “Do not.”

Tessa’s voice came out too fast. “He does not watch me.”

Mikayla stared at her, unimpressed. “Tess.”

Tessa’s denial sharpened, defensive. “He is just there. He is always there because it’s his house.”

Mikayla’s gaze did not soften. “You are acting like you belong here,” she said. “And that is the first step to getting hurt.”

Tessa’s chest tightened. She wanted to argue that she was not acting like anything, she was just doing her job, she was just moving efficiently because mornings were chaos and kids needed routine. She wanted to say she could leave any time, that she had not forgotten who she was.

The words tangled in her throat because Mikayla’s tone hit too close.

Tessa denied it anyway, too sharp, too quick, like she was trying to convince herself more than Mikayla. “I am not getting attached,” she said. “I am not stupid.”

Mikayla’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I did not say you were stupid.”

Tessa swallowed. “Then stop talking to me like I am.”

Mikayla’s mouth tightened. “I’m talking to you like I care.”

Tessa’s throat tightened, and she looked away for a beat.

From the living room, Derek’s voice called out, loud enough to reach the kitchen. “Tessa.”

The call was simple, not urgent, but it landed like an interruption with teeth.

Mikayla’s eyes flicked past Tessa toward the doorway, and her expression shifted into a look that said, see.

Derek called again, this time with a question that proved Mikayla’s point without trying. “What time does she usually do her bath.”

Tessa’s chest tightened.

Because he had asked her, not the house, not the schedule on the fridge, not his own memory.

He had asked her because she knew.

Tessa answered automatically, voice steady. “Seven.”

Mikayla’s eyes widened slightly, then she smiled in a way that was not playful at all.

Tessa turned back to Mikayla, annoyed. “It is just a question.”

“It is a pattern,” Mikayla replied.

Tessa’s jaw tightened. “Stop.”

Mikayla held up her hands, surrendering just enough to end the fight. “Fine,” she said, then leaned in slightly, voice dropping.

She looked at Tessa, then past her at Derek’s silhouette in the living room, then back.

“You two look like somethin’…” Mikayla said.

She let the sentence hang for half a beat, and that half beat felt like a trap door.

Tessa rolled her eyes immediately. “Mikayla.”

Mikayla finished anyway, grin sharp. “…like somethin’ that is gonna be trouble.”

Heat climbed Tessa’s neck before she could stop it.

Her first instinct was to laugh it off, to scoff, to act like Mikayla was being ridiculous and dramatic and bored. She forced the laugh out, but it sounded thinner than she wanted.

“You are insane,” Tessa said.

Mikayla’s eyes stayed on hers, not amused. “Maybe,” she replied softly. “But you are not as invisible in this house as you think you are.”

Tessa’s chest tightened, and she hated the way Mikayla’s warning landed because it was true enough to scare her.

Emma’s footsteps sounded on the stairs again, and Mikayla’s expression reset into bright friendliness like nothing had happened.

Tessa forced her own face back into calm, but the heat in her neck did not fade as fast as she wanted.

Mikayla’s sentence followed her back into the kitchen like a shadow.

Somethin’ that is gonna be trouble.