But sometimes… sometimes, late at night, I felt a tug deep in my ribcage, a pang for the reckless kind of love I’d once drowned in. A love so intense it made breathing feel like a shared act. The kind where someone couldn’t finish their day without finding away to see me, five minutes in the parking lot, a drive-by excuse to bring me a flower stolen from a neighbor’s yard, or a stupid reason to knock on my window at midnight.
I missed being wanted like that, wanted so fiercely it wrapped around me like heat.
But that was the younger, starry-eyed part of me talking. The part I had learned to silence. The part that had led me straight into heartbreak.
So, I tucked that longing back where it belonged, closed the texts from Brandon with a small smile, and chose the stability that didn’t scorch me.
Even if sometimes, in the quiet corners of my heart, I missed the fire.
Chapter 15
Ethan
By midafternoon, I was already exhausted.
Not physically, like from long shifts on construction sites or staying up all night finishing architectural drafts, but from being responsible for a child whose grief was bigger than she was.
Lily had been restless from the moment she woke up, buzzing like she’d swallowed a storm.
First, she refused breakfast. Then she demanded cereal. Then she refused cereal because it was “too crunchy.” Then she insisted she didn’t want to go to school.
Then she cried because she did want to go but didn’t want to go alone.
And then, when I, in a desperate attempt at parenting, offered to walk her there myself, she shouted that she didn’t want me at all, she wanted her mommy.
It broke my heart, and I deserved it.
Now she was stomping around the living room, blankets and toys scattered in her wake, while I hovered uselessly a few feet behind her, completely out of my depth.
“Lily,” I tried again, careful, gentle. “Sweetheart, we can’t throw things.”
“Daddy never made me do anything!” she screamed, her eyes bright with tears she refused to blink away.
I swallowed. Hard. “I know. I’m not trying to make you do anything. I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t want your stupid help!”
She threw a stuffed bear. It hit my chest and fell to the ground.
I stood there, frozen, the bear at my feet, the stress of the day pressing down on me until I felt like I might collapse under it.
Behind me, the kitchen door eased open, and my mother stepped in gently, as if approaching a wounded animal.
“Ethan,” she said softly, placing a hand on my arm. “Take a breath.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so Lily wouldn’t hear. I felt cracked open, helpless. “She just won’t listen.”
Emma’s eyes softened with grief. “She’s hurting, sweetheart. Hurting in ways she doesn’t have the words for.”
“I’m trying,” I whispered. “God, Mom, I’m trying so hard.”
“I know.” She cupped my cheek, brushing her thumb just once over the rougher line of my jaw. “But she needs patience.”
I glanced back at Lily, who had collapsed onto the couch, her tiny shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. Those sounds tore me apart.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said, the confession so raw it surprised even me. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what she needs. And every time she pushes me away I…”
“Feel like you deserve it?” Emma finished softly.
