Delaney steps closer now, close enough that I can smell coffee and soap.
“Boone,” she says firmly, “someone leaving doesn’t mean you failed them.”
“You don’t know that,” I argue.
“I do,” she says quietly. “Because I stayed in places I shouldn’t have for far too long, thinking love meant enduring whatever someone handed me. And when I finally left, it wasn’t because the other person failed, it was because I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed.”
That lands.
“She made a choice,” Delaney continues. “A hard one. A selfish one. And Sadie’s allowed to feel that loss without it meaning you weren’t enough.”
I stare at the floor, throat tight.
“She asks about her sometimes,” I admit. “Not much. Just… little things. If her mom likes horses. If she ever baked cookies. If she remembers her.”
Delaney softens. “And what do you tell her?”
“The truth,” I say. “That her mom loved her. That sometimes adults make choices that hurt people they love. That it wasn’t Sadie’s fault.”
Delaney nods. “That’s exactly right.”
I look up. “It doesn’t feel right when she comes home quiet.”
“No,” Delaney agrees. “But quiet doesn’t mean broken.”
She hesitates, then adds, “And she’s got more people in her corner than you think.”
I snort faintly. “You volunteering?”
A small smile tugs at her mouth. “I’m around, aren’t I?”
Painful warmth expands in my chest.
“She adores you.”
Delaney’s eyes flicker. “I adore her too.”
The quiet settles again, different this time. Less sharp.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “Not of Eli. Not of Carol. Of messing this up. Of teaching Sadie the wrong things without meaning to.”
Delaney reaches out then, resting her hand briefly over mine.
“You’re teaching her how to stand,” she says. “And that someone will stand with her. That matters.”
I swallow. “Thank you.”
She squeezes my hand once, then lets go, giving me back my space.
“You don’t have to carry this alone,” she adds.
I nod slowly. “Feels like I’ve been trying to for a long time.”
She meets my eyes. “You don’t have to anymore.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Delaney
