Momswap Brooklyn Chase < Trusted ◉ >

“I’m not your son,” Chase said, not turning around.

He flinched. Ezekiel. She only used that when she meant business. Except… she wasn’t his mother. Not really. Three weeks ago, some cosmic hiccup swapped every mom in Brooklyn. Chase had come home to find a woman named Denise in his kitchen, stirring gumbo, wearing his real mom’s apron. And his real mom? Last he heard, she was on Staten Island, teaching some kid named Marcus how to fold fitted sheets. momswap brooklyn chase

Chase stared at her. The streetlights flickered on. Somewhere two blocks over, a kid who looked exactly like him but moved like a stranger was probably breaking his real mom’s heart right now. “I’m not your son,” Chase said, not turning around

“I’m not trying to replace her,” Denise said quietly. “But while she’s gone, you’re stuck with me. So here’s the deal: you run, I chase. Every time.” She only used that when she meant business

Chase looked past her, down Vanderbilt Avenue, where the B65 bus was coughing toward Atlantic. He could make it. He could find his real mom’s brownstone, camp out on the steps, and wait for the swap to reverse.

“Ezekiel Chase, you stop right there.”

“I’m not going to a support group,” he said.