my property.
When I pulled into the driveway, I found Mom, Melissa, Kyle, and the kids sitting on the porch with their luggage.
No one said anything.
The children looked embarrassed.
Melissa looked exhausted.
Kyle looked furious.
Mom looked ashamed.
I stepped out of my car.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Then Tyler, the nine-year-old, walked toward me.
He looked at the ground.
“I’m sorry.”
I stopped.
“For what?”
“For saying I didn’t want you here.”
I looked at him.
“Did you really say that?”
He nodded.
“Mom said
