I clamp my eyes shut, gripping the pillow so tightly my fingers leave crescents in the fabric. My chest caves in, my breath shallow and rushed as tears flood down my cheeks again.
Colt’s footsteps move away, and the silence is louder than his sobs.
I stare at the ceiling, lost in the endless loop of grief.
At some point, night falls. Darkness settles in.
But I don’t sleep.
I lie here, unmoving. Listening.
At one point, I hear Colt talking on the phone.Johnny? Hux? Maybe his mum.Whoever it is, I’m glad he’s not alone.
***
The next morning, footsteps on the stairs pull me from my trance.
Then, scratching at the door, and a soft whimper.
Princess.
She knows.
She always knows.
I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and push off the covers. I can’t stay in here forever. I need to talk to Colt. I need to find out where we go from here.
Getting out of bed, I shuffle to the ensuite and brace myself in front of the mirror. One look and I flinch. My face is a mess with puffy, red eyes and hair tangled like I’ve been caught in a storm. I run a hand through it without caring how it looks. There’s noemotion left to fight. With a sigh, I step back into the bedroom, unlock the door, and open it slowly.
Princess barrels toward me, tail wagging, her little paws tapping across the floor before she jumps up against my legs. She’s always there. No judgment. No expectations. I lean down, pet her, and press a soft kiss to her furry head before swinging the door wide. The numbness still wraps around me like a thick fog.
Colt’s not in the hallway.
I wander out and follow the sound of his voice. He’s talking—firm, focused. I pause outside the kitchen, just far enough away to remain unseen.
“Okay, great. So the money will be deposited every month into his trust fund and into Macy McCormack’s account as well?” he says, and I stiffen.
A trust fund?
My stomach flips. Of course, Colt has to pay child support. That’s his responsibility now. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Perfect. Thanks so much, Frank. I’ll come in during the week to sign the paperwork. Appreciate you getting on this so quickly,” he adds, then I hear the soft beep of the call ending.
He was talking to Frank, our lawyer.
I wrap my arms around myself, pressing my back to the wall. At least he’s doing the right thing by stepping up and taking care of his family, even if it means Macy is now a permanent fixture in our lives.
I hate how bitter I feel.
I hate that part of me is angry at a sick child.
But I am.
If Caleb hadn’t gotten sick, Colt might never have known he existed. We’d still be mourning one loss, not bracing for another. We’d be trying to find our way back.
Now? We’re lost.
Colt turns the corner and spots me. His face softens instantly, and he rushes forward and pulls me into a tight embrace.
