“Lucian, you were in your early twenties and had an idyllic childhood. You were so lucky to witness the kind of love your parents had. You were so lucky to have that kind of hope.” Shewrapped both hands around mine and hunched closer, her gaze calling mine to hers until I relented, locking onto her sincere stare. “But life gives us lessons to learn from—some earlier than others. Your lessons came later, and that’s okay.”
“And I learned from my lessons. I learned that their love is rare and that entering a relationship with blind hope, expecting the same thing, leaves you vulnerable. It gives people access to ruin you. I swore I would never do that to myself again. I hardened my heart, and I’m better for it.”
“And I saw you become a better man—a happier man—with Aspen by your side. I saw the same joy in your eyes that I witnessed in your parents.”
I hesitated, her words wrapping around my muscles, holding me in place, giving me no other option but to listen and see the picture she painted.
“And that’s not something to be scared of. Just because you were a certain way in the past doesn’t mean it’s how you have to be now. You can learn from the past—you’resupposedto learn—and still have what you always wanted: a family you can devote yourself to and love. It’s not like giving up this cold, hard version of yourself suddenly turns you back into that unknowing twenty-two-year-old man.” She guffawed. “God, the world would be terrifying if no one ever learned from their twenties. I sure as hell would have killed Felix long ago if neither of us had.”
I chuckled, her words finding the cracks in my defenses, chipping away, making room to claw through and settle in.
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other, Lucian. You can take pieces from the past and mix them with the present—you can keep more of one without losing the other. Life is about adapting and learning while staying true to yourself. Wanting a family was always a huge part of you—it didn’t vanish. You may have built walls to avoid looking at it, but it’s still there. You can ignore it, cut people off who get too close, but is that really what you want?You can’t ignore it forever. It’s up to you to decide what to do with it—and I think Aspen could help.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face and let out a long, slow breath. Grace battered me until I sat there raw beneath her scrutiny, exposed in a blinding light with nowhere left to hide. She gave me no space to ignore any part of myself, no corner to retreat to. She took the time to call out every lie and demanded I finally look at them.
And while it all made sense, hearing the truth from an outsider—laid bare and undeniable—overwhelmed me, stealing my ability to speak.
“Think on it,” she said gently. “And know I’m here. You’re not alone.”
She patted my hand and stood. Just before stepping into Felix’s room, she turned back, her gaze firm, unyielding.
“Whatever you decide, I expect you to follow through with what you started—whatyou bothstarted. I’m not above asking you two for a quick marriage for my dying husband.” Her voice softened, but the words hit harder. “He hated that you were so lonely. All he ever wanted was to see you happy and married before he passed. So, I’m asking—begging—you to give him that.”
My head buzzed as revelations and requests crashed together, flooding my control centers until thought gave way to instinct, and I nodded.
As if Grace’s stern words had shuffled the mess in my head enough to knock something loose, a string of light appeared from the chaos, calling me to latch on with the promise of helping me find my way out.
I wrapped both hands around it, and one thought became clear.
I wish I didn’t have to go back in that room alone.
I wish I didn’t have to face all this alone.
I wish Aspen were here.
That revelation encouraged me to keep pulling, slowly easing the knots apart.
Hospital staff passed by, families came and went, but I saw none of it—lost in my own head, working to untangle the mess I’d made. When I hit a knot too tight to loosen, rather than giving up, I found another end and pulled from there.
As the sun dipped low, casting a streak of orange across the floor, I laid my shit out in mental piles—the past on one side and the present on the other, wondering what to keep and what to throw out.
It doesn’t have to be one or the other.
Grace’s words replayed, and I took a deep breath, really hearing them, letting them sink in.
I didn’t have to throw any of it away. I didn’t have to choose. Keeping it all didn’t mean it had to stay separate—didn’t mean I had to remain trapped between who I’d been and who I was now.
When I looked at the present, I saw myself alone but strong. When I looked at the past, I saw myself happy and hopeful—but also hurt, fractured, and raw.
I wanted parts of both.
Sitting there, I finally admitted it.
I wanted the strength I’d cultivated over the years, but Grace was right—I’d never given up wanting a family. I’d just spent years building walls around that desire, sealing it off to dull the pain of not having it.
When I cracked the door on it, everything spilled out. The want. The hope.Aspen.They blended together, forming a future so vivid it filled me with something close to relief. Panic followed fast on its heels, warning me to run—that opening myself up like this meant risking real pain. But that fear belonged to the past, still speaking from its isolated pile.
Letting the past and present exist together, I could finally use what I’d learned between them. I could see the difference between the idealized dream of a naïve boy who worshipped his parents’ marriage and the reality of what it took to build something real.
