Derek shrugged, a theatrical, innocent gesture. "Nope. But I did throw away an old, rusty piece of metal from the mantel yesterday. It looked like junk. I thought it was from one of Puck's weird toys."
"You threw it away?" Puck’s whisper was more terrifying than a scream. MomComesFirst - Little Puck - The New Family -2...
Puck stood at the bottom of the stairs, clutching the worn leather hockey puck his late father had given him. It was his totem, the only thing that felt real. His mom was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chili. Marcus was reading a financial report in his leather armchair. Derek was sprawled on the sofa, watching a game on the big TV—the same TV Puck used to watch old sci-fi marathons with his mom every Friday. Derek shrugged, a theatrical, innocent gesture
The rain hadn’t stopped for three days. It fell in a steady, gray curtain against the tall windows of the old Victorian house, blurring the line between the skeletal autumn trees and the bruised twilight sky. For Little Puck—a nickname he’d carried since he was a toddler, too small for his age but too fierce for his own good—the weather matched his insides perfectly. It looked like junk
He opened the door. The cold rain hit his face, but it felt cleaner than the air inside.
"I'm not accusing. I'm stating." Puck turned his gaze directly to Derek. "Where is it?"
The trouble started with the thermostat. "We’re a family now," Marcus had declared on day one, "we compromise." Compromise, Puck learned, meant that his mom’s art studio got moved to the cramped attic so Derek could have the guest bedroom for his "study sessions." Compromise meant that Puck’s weekly Dungeons & Dragons nights with his friends were replaced with "family bonding" dinners where Derek scrolled through his phone and Marcus critiqued Puck’s posture.