Chapter 12 Ew, Gratitude

Chapter 12 Ew, Gratitude

Tessa walked up the driveway like she always did now, steady pace, bag on her shoulder, eyes forward.
She was prepared for the usual friction.
A correction in the doorway. A cold look. A comment meant to remind her she was temporary. Something Derek could throw like a pebble to see if she flinched.
Instead, the house felt quiet in a different way.
Not tense.
Not performatively distant.
Just quiet.
The gate clicked shut behind her, and she reached the front door before she could overthink it. She lifted her hand to knock, then stopped when she heard movement inside.
The door opened.
Derek stood there with his hair dry this time, wearing a hoodie and jeans, one hand on the edge of the door like he had been about to leave the moment she arrived. His expression was neutral, not blank. Not irritated. Not smirking.
Just there.
“Come in,” he said, stepping aside.
Tessa blinked once, thrown off by how normal it sounded.
“Thanks,” she replied, walking past him.
He did not follow her into the living room.
He did not hover by the kitchen.
He did not plant himself in her path like a warning sign.
He remained near the entryway, turning slightly as if he was listening without making it obvious.
Tessa set her bag down with careful control and took off her jacket.
The neutrality made her more uneasy than hostility ever had.
Hostile was predictable. Hostile was a pattern she could navigate.
Neutral was a question.
She glanced toward the staircase. “Is Emma upstairs?”
“Yes,” Derek said. “In her room.”
Tessa nodded and started toward the stairs.
Halfway up, she paused.
She was not sure why.
Her snap at school replayed in her head like a bruise you kept touching. The way the hallway had gone still. The way she had defended him without meaning to.
What if someone told him?
What if it had already gotten back to this house?
The thought sat heavy in her chest.
Tessa forced herself to keep moving.
Emma’s door was open. The girl sat cross-legged on the floor with a book propped against her knees and colored pencils scattered like confetti around her. She looked up when Tessa appeared, and her face brightened so quickly it felt like a small punch to the heart.
“Tessa,” Emma said, voice soft.
“Hi,” Tessa replied, lowering herself to the floor beside her. “How was school?”
Emma shrugged, then held up a paper. A drawing. A lopsided castle with a crooked flag and a stick figure standing in front of it.
“That is impressive,” Tessa said, making her tone sincerely impressed.
Emma smiled a little.
They fell into routine, and the routine was smoother today.
The small thing was not dramatic.
It was just… easier.
Homework was already spread out on the desk downstairs when they came back to the kitchen. Not crumpled. Not shoved into a bag. Set up like someone had tried to make it simple.
Emma did not melt down when Tessa asked her to start.
She still hesitated, still pouted once, but she did not shut down. When Tessa broke the assignment into tiny steps, Emma followed the rhythm without fighting it like she needed the fight to prove she still had control.
Dinner happened without a negotiation war.
Emma tested the boundaries once, murmured something about wanting something else, then accepted the offered choice with less resistance than usual.
Even bedtime was calmer.
Emma brushed her teeth without dragging her feet down the hallway like she was heading to prison. She climbed into bed and let Tessa tuck the blanket around her without protest. When Tessa read to her, Emma listened quietly, eyes half-lidded, body relaxing into the story.
The house held a different kind of quiet when Emma finally fell asleep.
Tessa stepped into the hallway and closed Emma’s door gently behind her.
Downstairs, Derek stood near the kitchen, not leaning in a doorway, not lurking. Just standing there like he had been waiting for the moment he could confirm something.
Tessa walked down the stairs with measured steps.
Derek’s gaze flicked up when she reached the bottom.
“She has been better,” he said.
It was not praise.
It was not warmth.
It was a single observation, clipped and factual.
Tessa’s chest tightened anyway.
She answered like a professional. “That is the goal.”
Derek’s jaw shifted slightly, like he heard something in her tone that was not there.
He read her response as dismissive.
Tessa read his observation as evaluation.
Neither corrected the misread.
Tessa moved toward the sink, setting a cup down, keeping herself busy. Derek stayed where he was.
The silence held for a beat too long.
Then Derek spoke again.
“Thank you,” he said.
The words were quiet.
Not forced.
Clipped, almost uncomfortable.
And sincere in a way that made it worse.
Because it was not about tasks. It was not about chores or schedules or professionalism.
It was about Emma.
The one thing he could not fake indifference about.
Tessa froze with her hand on the edge of the counter.
Her first instinct was suspicion.
Gratitude from him felt like a trap.
A way to soften her so he could push later. A way to shift the balance. A way to make her feel obligated.
She turned her head slightly and looked at him.
Derek was not looking at her.
His gaze was fixed on nothing in particular, like looking directly at her would make him regret the words.
He already did.
Tessa could feel it.
Before she could respond, a small sound cut through the moment.
A timer beeped softly from the kitchen, reminding her that the dishwasher cycle was done.
Or maybe it was her phone buzzing in her bag.
Either way, the interruption gave them both an excuse to breathe.
Tessa moved again, as if she had not paused at all. She opened the dishwasher and pulled out a plate, hands steady, heart not.
“Of course,” she said finally, voice careful. Not too soft. Not too sharp. “It is my job.”
Derek’s shoulders stiffened.
He heard the distance in her words and thought she was rejecting the thank you.
Tessa heard the thank you and thought he was trying to keep the peace.
Both were wrong.
Both were half right.
Derek spoke again, voice low. “It is not just the job.”
Tessa’s hands stopped.
She swallowed.
Now what.
She turned slightly, still not fully facing him. “What do you mean?”
Derek’s jaw tightened. He kept his eyes off her, gaze shifting toward the stairs as if Emma’s room was the safer subject.
“She has not…” He stopped, then started again. “She has not laughed much.”
Tessa felt something tighten in her chest.
She thought of yesterday’s laugh, bright and rare, and the way Derek had paused in the doorway like the sound had hurt and healed him at the same time.
Tessa forced her voice to stay even. “She is a kid,” she said. “It will come back in pieces.”
Derek nodded once, slow.
The air between them held something neither of them knew how to name.
The conversation should have ended there.
It did not.
It just faded, leaving a silence that did not reset.
Tessa reached for something to do because doing was safer than standing in the quiet with him. She picked up a cup, wiped the counter, checked the fridge like she needed to confirm it still contained food.
Derek stayed still.
He watched her hands move. He watched her avoid looking directly at him.
He looked like he wanted to say something else.
He did not.
Tessa finished wiping the counter and set the cloth down.
The silence stretched longer than it had any right to.
She felt herself waiting anyway, like her body had decided the moment mattered even if her mind wanted to deny it.
That was the worst part.
Because waiting made it feel intimate.
And neither of them was ready for that.