I hugged myself tighter.“You think I didn’t?”
He shook his head slowly.“Not the way I learned it.”
His gaze flicked upward, toward the ceiling.Toward my daughters sleeping down the hall.His shoulders stiffened.
“When Morgan asked if I was going to be her new daddy...”His voice stalled.He inhaled sharply.“It felt like something snapped open in my chest.I couldn’t breathe.All I could think was—I don’t know how to be that man.”
Pain twisted through me.I turned away before he could see it, crossed the room, and sank onto the sofa.I reached for my cup of tea, needing the anchor.
Creed didn’t follow.He stayed where he was.
“You were right,” he said.“I don’t know how to accept love without turning it into something sharp.Something transactional.My parents taught me that affection always came with a cost.”
I stayed quiet.Let him talk.
“I decided a long time ago that love was just another way to bleed.”His eyes found mine, raw and unguarded.“And I refused to love like that.”
My throat closed.
“That’s why I left,” he said.“Because when she asked me that question, I realized I didn’t trust myself not to fail her.Or you.”
“So, you ran,” I said.
“Yes.”He didn’t flinch.“And I hated myself for it.”
I set the mug down carefully and rose.“Then why are you here now?”
He crossed the room slowly, deliberately, like he was choosing every step.
“Because I couldn’t live with that version of myself,” he said.“And because I finally stopped pretending I could fix this alone.”
I looked up, startled.“What does that mean?”
“It means I asked for help.”His voice dropped.“Realhelp.”
The word landed heavier than I expected.
“I started therapy,” he said.“Because I don’t want to keep destroying the things I want most.”
My pulse thundered.“Because of me?”
“Yes.”No hesitation.“Because of you.And because of them.”
His hands slid to my waist, then settled there lightly.Not claiming.Anchoring.
“I want to learn how to stay,” he said.“Not just when it’s easy.Not just when I’m in control.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“I can’t promise I won’t mess up,” he continued.“But I can promise I won’t disappear again.I’ll talk.I’ll show up.I’ll fight instead of fleeing.”
My hands pressed to his chest, feeling the hard, unsteady beat beneath my palms.
“And I’m not asking you to need me,” he said softly.“I’m asking if you still want me.”
I closed my eyes.“You hurt me.”
“I know.”His thumb brushed my jaw.“And I don’t get to erase that.”
