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."
That was the trigger. The phrase "new family" dripped from Derek’s mouth like poison wrapped in honey. Puck felt the old, familiar heat crawl up his neck—the same heat that got him benched in peewee hockey for checking a kid who’d called his mom a name.
The air left the room. Puck’s vision tunneled. Junk. His father’s last gift, the only memory he had of the man who’d died of a heart attack when Puck was four—the puck he’d held during every nightmare, every school play, every moment of grief—was junk.
"Little Puck," Derek mocked from the sofa, "running away to find his magic puck? Good luck." MomComesFirst - Little Puck - The New Family -2...
Puck paused on the porch. He turned back just once, not to look at Derek, but at his mother. "You always said mom comes first," he said quietly. "But I thought that meant you'd come first for me. I didn't know it meant they'd come first over me."
He stepped into the rain, leaving the door ajar. Behind him, he heard his mom say, "Marcus, stop him." He heard Marcus say, "Let him cool off. He'll be back in an hour."
The room went still. Marcus lowered his paper. Derek didn't look away from the screen, but a smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth. Derek shrugged, a theatrical, innocent gesture
Two months had passed since the wedding. Two months since his mom, Elara, had smiled that new, wide smile and said, "Puck, it’s time for a new chapter." The chapter was named Marcus. And Marcus came with a son: Derek, a broad-shouldered, lacrosse-playing senior who smelled of cologne and arrogance. The new family was a puzzle where Puck’s piece no longer fit.
"No." Puck’s voice hardened. "I left it on the mantel. Right next to the clock. The same place I’ve left it every night for ten years."
"I'm not accusing. I'm stating." Puck turned his gaze directly to Derek. "Where is it?" It looked like junk
"Out," Puck said.
Derek finally looked up, his eyes flat and amused. "How should I know? Maybe the ‘new family’ ghost took it."
Elara looked up. Her eyes were tired, ringed with the effort of keeping everyone happy. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"Puck, don't you dare walk out that door," Elara said, finally showing a flicker of the mother he remembered. But it was too late. Her "don't you dare" had come twenty minutes too late.