Momcomesfirst - Little Puck - The New Family -2... Info

"Where do you think you're going?" Marcus called, his voice sharpening into authority.

Something inside Puck snapped, but not into anger. Into ice. He had always believed in the rule of three: Mom, then him, then the world. But the rule had changed. Mom came first, yes—but not for him anymore. For Marcus. For Derek. For the illusion of a perfect home.

That was the final betrayal. Not Derek’s cruelty. Not the lost puck. But his mom’s silence. She didn't defend him. She just looked at Marcus, then at Puck, and said, "He's right, honey. Maybe this is a good thing. A fresh start. The new family needs new memories."

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." 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.

Elara looked up. Her eyes were tired, ringed with the effort of keeping everyone happy. "What is it, sweetheart?"

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. "Where do you think you're going

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.

Tonight was the breaking point.

"You threw it away?" Puck’s whisper was more terrifying than a scream. He had always believed in the rule of

Marcus stood up. "Now, Derek, if you did that, that was careless. But it was an honest mistake. Puck, your mother and I have talked. It's time to let go of some of these… attachments. You're thirteen. Not a little kid anymore."

"Little Puck," Derek mocked from the sofa, "running away to find his magic puck? Good luck."