“No, I’m not leaving you like this.”
“I’m fine,” he snaps.
“You’re lying.”
He locks his jaw.
I soften my voice. “Ash. Let me help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Ash—”
“Lucy.” My name is a warning. A plea. A boundary. But I don’t move.
“Why don’t you decorate?” I ask quietly. “Really.”
He looks at the empty living room walls like they’re ghosts.
“Because,” he finally whispers, “if I decorate… it means this is real.” My heart stops. “And if it’s real…” His voice cracks. “It means one day she’ll have to leave. And I can’t—” He shakes his head hard. “I can’t let her get comfortable like that. Not when it’s temporary.”
My throat tightens. “Ash… no.”
Before I can touch him, he steps back, breathing too fast. “She’s not mine,” he rasps. “I did my best to be in her life before but even then I only saw her a few times a year–I mean, I’m the only man that’s ever been in her life. Her only father figure. And this—this whole thing—will disappear when my sister comes home. ”
“And when is that?” I ask softly. “I don’t know.” His voice breaks again. “Could be months. Could be a year. Could be longer.”
“And until then,” I whisper, “you’re giving her everything.” He flinches. “You think she doesn’t know that?” I press gently. “You think she doesn’t feel how much you love her?”
His jaw flexes. Not with anger. With fear.
Holly runs back in, tape dangling off her tiny fingers. “Lucy! Help me hang it!”
I smile at her. “Of course.”
I grab the tape and help her secure the little stocking above the fireplace. It fits perfectly, dangling slightly crooked, but full of heart.
Holly claps. “There!” Ash watches us—silent, guarded, shaking slightly. Holly beams up at him. “Now it looks like Christmas!”
He swallows hard, trying to smile. “Yeah, kid. It does.”
For just a moment, he looks like a man standing in the doorway of something he wants but can’t admit he’s afraid to reach for.
A home. A family. Love.
Then the walls slam back into place.
“Bath time,” he says gruffly. “Go grab your pajamas.”
Holly zooms off. He sinks into the armchair like he’s collapsing. I stand in front of him. “Ash…”
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Lucy, I can’t?—”
“You can,” I whisper. “And you are.”
His hands fall from his face. He meets my gaze. And for a moment—one heartbeat—he lets me see him fully. Raw. Exhausted. Terrified. Trying.
God, it hits deep.
