I finally glance at him. "I didn't ask anyone to care."
"No, you didn't. But you sure as hell don't get to punish them for doing it."
When I shift, the movement makes my stump ache. I hate this. Hate needing help. Detest the way my body doesn't move the way I remember.
Jake leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Lucy's still here, Cade. After everything. She's not running. You think that means nothing?"
"I don't deserve her."
"Bullshit."
I blink at the sharpness in his tone.
"You think you're the only one who's broken? The only one who's scared? Lucy is walking around with your baby inside her and still trying to be strong for everyone else. You don't think she's scared, too?"
I look away, jaw tight.
Jake exhales slowly. "You're not doing her any favors by pushing her away. She's not asking you to be perfect. All she wants is you. Whatever version of you is still living."
I want to believe that. I do. But the image of her in my mind, smiling, soft, glowing with the light I haven't seen in months, doesn't match what I see when I look in the mirror.
"I burned the sketchbook," I say quietly.
Jake's brow furrows. "What?"
"My homestead plans. The porch. The nursery. All of it. I set it on fire."
He stares at me, mouth opening, then closing. "Why?"
"Because it's never gonna happen. That guy... he's gone."
For a long beat, Jake is silent. Then he stands and crosses the room. He opens the drawer of my nightstand and pulls out an envelope.
"She gave me this to give you. Said not to read it until you were ready."
I eye the letter as if it might bite me.
"Don't throw this away too," Jake says. "Not everything you dream has to die just because it looks different now."
He walks out, and I'm left alone again.
I stare at the envelope until my hand reaches for it.
Caden,
I don't know if you'll read this. I don't even know if you'll want to. But I'm writing it anyway, because the words are clawing at my chest and I can't keep them in anymore.
I miss you.
Not just the way you held me or kissed me or made me laugh. I miss the way you saw me. Like I wasn't too much or too soft or too complicated. I miss the way you talked about forever as if it were a real place we were both running toward.
I know things are hard. I know you're hurting. And I would give anything to take that pain from you. But I can't. I can only sit outside your storm and hope one day you'll let me back in.
Even if you don't believe it yet, I need you to hear this: I don't love you because of your uniform or your strengthor the plans we made. I love you because of your heart. The way you loved me back. The way you saw a life in the middle of all this chaos and said, "Let's build something."
That something still matters.
Even if the porch looks different than we planned.
