“Hope?” Derek said my name as he stopped in the doorway of my mother’s living room. Luke was in her arms, Miles was in mine, and the diaper bag beside us clearly held more than an evening’s supplies. He wanted to know why the boys were staying there. My broken arm was the answer, but he looked as if I had done something to him. His eyes moved to the folded schedule on the coffee table, the same schedule he had refused to follow. He demanded that I bring his children home……CONTINUES IN BELOW...
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