Guilt eats at my stomach making it hard to swallow even a bite of food. The pasta is steaming and smells incredible, a creamy mushroom bowl Imogen made up last night for family dinner, and I’d taken the leftovers. But I can’t even bring myself to put a spoonful in my mouth.
Pumpkin meows at my feet in the hopes I’ll drop him some food, but the vet told me he was overweight and needed to go on a diet. He’s hated me ever since. But it’s for his own good. He’ll give up eventually and go nap in his spot on the couch soon enough.
Ethan went down for bed over an hour ago and silence weighs heavily on the small bungalow I call home. It’s always been cozy, a safe space for me and my son but I can’t help but feel like it’s empty now.
I keep seeing his face. Whenever I close my eyes, it’s the wounded look I see, the plea in his dark eyes, the apology on his lips that I didn’t give him a chance to say.
I hadn’t expected him to turn up at my house. He heard Ethan cry, he knows there’s a baby in here, does he know he’s his?
So many questions I want answers to, but I’m far too afraid to ask them.
But one thing I am certain of. He’ll leave again.
He alwaysleaves.
What if I tell him about Ethan and they grow a bond, only for him to disappear again? Ethan is young now but what about when he is older, and I have to tell him his dad didn’t stick around?
I push the bowl of pasta away and cradle my head in my hands. I still feel guilty shutting the door on his face. So much damn regret stirs through me, and I have no idea how to manage it.
I know I have to tell him. He has a right to know even if I have to risk him leaving once more. But I have to promise myself I can’t let him in again, he can have a relationship with his son, I cannot and will not stop that, but with me? He can’t have me again.
Physically, mentally, emotionally, I will not recover from another heartbreak at his hands.
When the sun is up the following morning, shining light on the freshly fallen snow, I take Ethan over to the diner where I know my sister will be. She’s preparing the diner for the day while Shawn makes breakfast like we do most mornings. It smells like pancakes, bacon and syrup when I let myself inside and helpmyself to coffee from the pot, pouring a bottle of juice for Ethan at the same time.
“There’s my favorite munchkin,” Immy opens her arms for her nephew, showering him with kisses while I sip at my coffee, needing it after the restless night’s sleep. “You okay?” She asks me.
I nod even though I am so far from okay it hurts. “Can you watch him for a bit after a breakfast?” I ask, “I just need to do something.”
“Sure,” She grins, “You know I’ll never say no to this little face,” she scrunches her nose and rubs it on his which makes him giggle and call her name before handing him back, “Breakfast in two!” She calls as she disappears into the kitchen, and I hear her and her husband laugh.
I place Ethan in his highchair and set one of the tables for breakfast, taking a seat just in time for the food to come out.
A half hour later, I leave Ethan in Immy’s capable hands and head out into the cold. It snowed all night, leaving the town covered in a white blanket that crunches and slides under my feet. Nerves riot inside my stomach, making me feel sick while I try not to spiral with my imagination on how he is going to take this.
I’ve not seen Kolt angry, not really. When he saved me from Patrick, I was so dazed and disorientated it didn’t register until it was over, but I had a feeling he was going to be raging after I give him the news.
Was there more I could have done back then when I found out?
I don’t know.
I called him so many times without any success. But I also kept it from his brothers who may have been able to help me get hold of him.
The Avery house looms ahead, Torin’s red truck parked by a shelter of logs and Harper’s chicken runs around out front. I still find it strange that the child has a pet chicken but hey, it could be worse.
My knuckles tap against the door, and it’s opened a moment later by Everett and his big grin.
“Vanessa,” He greets, “What do we owe the pleasure?”
He knows something. I don’t know how I know that but it’s Everett, he always knows something. I like him even if I don’t show it, there’s just something about him that makes people gravitate towards him, even if he likes to stir the pot. He’s my friend’s boyfriend, and he makes her happy which is enough to tolerate whatever game he wants to play.
“Is Kolt here?” I ask.
“Afraid not,” He sighs dramatically, “coffee?” He opens the door wider for me, but I shake my head.
“Do you know where he went?”
“A walk,” He shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his grey sweats, “Early this morning. Looked kind of depressed if you ask me.”
