Something inside me snaps. Not loud. Not violent. Just… final. Because now I know exactly the kind of man he is.
“Any man who thinks Mia isn’t worth more than all the riches in the world is stupid… and worthless,” I growl. She finally meets my gaze.
“Want to know something funny?” Her lips curve into a small, sad smile. I nod, careful not to scare her with the anger simmering in me.
“I’ve had everything money could buy, home, car, clothes, schools. Yet nothing ever made me as happy as the day Mia and I slept on a blow-up mattress in a broken-down cabin, not knowing our future.”
I watch her closely. That quiet strength, the courage that made her leave security behind to build a life for Mia, hits me hard.
“When I finally left, I didn’t even miss him. I just… ran. I told myself it was for Mia, but the truth is, I think I was running for both of us.”
“You’re so strong,” I whisper, my voice breaking a little.
She shivers under the faint porch light, twisting the blanket around her. Her shoulders tremble, a tear glints at the corner of her eye.
“You left a comfortable life because you wanted something better for Mia,” I murmur, voice low.“Forced to hide behindmasks, expectations, money… from the people who were supposed to love you.”
Another tear slips down. I reach out instinctively, brushing it away with the back of my thumb. Her skin is warm under my hand.
“You didn’t stay where it wasn’t right. You took Mia and built a new life. That’s brave. That’s admirable. It didn’t break you, it shaped you.”
Her lips tremble. She looks small beneath the blanket, curling in on herself, but there’s something in her eyes, a quiet fire, stubborn and alive, like it refuses to be snuffed out.
I lean a little closer, thumb brushing over hers.“Maybe now… maybe here… you can let some of it go. With my family, with me. You don’t have to hide anymore.”
Her hands still twist the blanket, but she doesn’t pull away. I press my hand a little firmer over hers.“You did the right thing. For Mia. For yourself. That’s enough.”
She exhales slowly.“It doesn’t always feel like it,” she whispers.
“Healing isn’t neat. It’s never perfect,” I say.“It’s messy. Starting over, chasing your dreams, doing it all alone, that is fighting. That is character. And you have a strong soul, Summer. I admire it.”
She suddenly stands, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her eyes.“I think I’ll go inside.”
I nod, letting her take the choice. She turns, hand on the doorknob… then stops.
“Ethan?”
I hold my breath. She turns back, and I see her, the real Summer. Scared. Vulnerable. Strong.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Before I can answer, she slips inside. I’m left on the porch, watching the door close, feeling the weight of everything she just gave me.
I follow Summer inside and join everyone in the kitchen.
After a while I slip away unnoticed, moving down the quiet hall. The house is almost asleep now, laughter and clinking dishes fading into the hum of nighttime settling over the ranch. Somewhere outside, a horse nickers softly in the stable, and the faint scent of woodsmoke drifts through the hall from the fireplace, curling around me like a whisper.
Summer said she’d give Mia a bath before bed, so I need to make it in time to leave the flower and note on her pillow. Floorboards creak faintly under my boots, lamplight spilling in long, golden stripes across the floor.
I pause outside her door. Mia’s small, sleepy voice drifts through the crack:
“Will you sing me a song now, Mommy?”
I freeze.
The door is half open. Summer sits on the edge of the bed, back to me, hair loose and messy, catching the soft lamplight. Her hand moves slowly through Mia’s damp hair, smoothing it over the pillow, and then she begins to sing.
Her voice is soft, warm, and low, wrapping around the room like a blanket. She’s singingMy Wishby Rascal Flatts, and I can hear the weight behind every word. Mia’s tiny hand curls against Summer’s leg, already heavy with sleep, and Summer’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, though her voice remains steady, unwavering.
