Not with me.
Withher.
My ribs ache from the force of my breathing. My heart hammers like it’s trying to shatter its way out of my chest.
“I would’ve stayed, Macy. I fucking loved you. You shattered me when you left. I couldn’t even tell Dee I loved her for years because of whatyoudid.”
“You think I wanted to do this alone?” she screams. “You think I didn’t cry myself to sleep wishing I’d made a different choice?”
I can’t listen anymore.
I can’t take one more word.
I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, pressing my face into the space between. I cry hard, ragged, and raw. Not because I’m weak.
Because this is grief.
Because I’ve lost more than I knew I had to lose.
Colt is a father.
A dad.
He has a son.
And he’ll never have one with me.
He has exactly what he’s always wanted.
Just not with me.
I can’t take this.
Without a word, I turn and bolt up the stairs. My legs are shaky, my vision blurred, and my chest—fuck, my chest feels like it’s caving in.
A hand lands on my shoulder.
I stop, frozen, and glance back.
Colt.
His eyes are red. Shimmering. Haunted.
And just beyond him is Macy.
Inside.
My home.
I see her stepping into the foyer, and bile rushes up my throat.
Colt’s focus stays on me, though. Nother. “Baby, I swear to you, I didn’t know,” he says, his voice hoarse.
I blink at him, and the weight of everything hits me like a freight train. He opens his arms, and without hesitation, I fall into them. Colt holds me tight, right here in the middle of the staircase, grounding me while the world spins violently out of control.
I stare up into his tear-filled eyes and force the only words I can muster. “You need to listen to her, Colt. You need to take care of your child.”
His jaw tenses, eyes narrowing slightly like he’s about to break. I feel the battle raging inside him and his instinct to stay with me, to protect me, and the undeniable pull toward the boy downstairs who needs him.
