Cousin Linda poured a cup of steaming tea and slid it toward me. Her smile was gentle, but her eyes were cold. "Ethan isn't even crying for help, Sarah. Why are you so anxious? Let the boys have their fun."
Margaret walked over and patted my shoulder with heavy, authoritative hands. "Sarah, I'm not trying to lecture you, but boys need to be toughened up. Don't raise him to be so delicate. Look at Derek—he took plenty of falls when he was a child, and look how successful he is now."
Every word struck a nerve. Exactly what they had said in my past life. A script recited verbatim.
Derek sat beside me. He didn't look at the window. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Sarah, if you keep making a scene, you're going to embarrass me. It's New Year's. Do you really have to make us a joke in front of the relatives?"
I turned to look at my husband. He felt like a stranger.
No worry in his eyes. No fatherly instinct. Only impatience and cold concern for his reputation.
"Aren't you worried?" My voice trembled. "What if something happens? That's your son out there."
Derek scoffed. "You're hysterical. How could anything happen in a pile of snow?"