Teddy grins. “She already heard you.”
But Sandra doesn’t stop. Quite frankly, she doesn’t know how to. It’s her stubborn trait, one I’ve had to deal with my whole life. “So, let me get this straight. No more babysitting?”
I set my napkin down slowly, like the motion alone can stop my pulse from hammering.
“No. She’s gone.”
The lie tastes stale in my mouth. Teddy’s voice is small as he speaks loud enough for me to hear. “She’s gone?”
When I look over, he’s staring at me, eyes wide, confusion written all over his little face. My heart stumbles in my chest.
“Teddy,” I start, but it’s too late. His chair scrapes against the tiles, and he’s already running from the table.
“Sebastian,” Sandra murmurs, as guilt softens her tone. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”
I follow the sound of Teddy’s crying until I find him on the floor, against the back door. I crouch beside him, careful not to crowd him. “Hey, buddy,” I say. “C’mere.”
He shakes his head, fat tears sliding down his cheeks. “You said she’d come back.”
“I know, mate.” My chest aches. “I know I did.”
“You lied.”
I exhale slowly, fighting the burn in my throat. “Sometimes grown-ups say things they hope will be true. I didn’t want you to be sad.”
He doesn’t answer me and I sit there beside him in the quiet hum of the night, feeling the weight of every mistake I’ve made settle in my bones. “I miss her too,” I admit softly.
Teddy sniffles, glancing up at me, his small voice trembling. “Then why can’t she come back?”
I stare out the window, watching the soft blink of Christmas lights reflected in the glass. “Because I made it too hard for her to stay.”
He frowns, the crease between his brows deepening. “Why?”
My throat tightens as I speak. “Sometimes,” I start slowly, searching for words a five-year-old can hold, “grown-ups mess things up. We say or do the wrong things, and we don’t always know how to fix them right away.”
He studies me for a while, eyes glossy with confusion and hurt, before nodding once like he’s trying to accept an answer that doesn’t make sense. His small hand inches toward mine, tentative but certain, and I take it, because it’s all I can do.
I squeeze his fingers gently, grounding myself in the warmth of his palm, the steadiness of him. For all my tough talk, all my justifications and logic, I’m the one who broke it. Brokeus.
When footsteps creak behind us, I don’t have to look up to know it’s Sandra.
“You okay, little man?” she says softly.
Teddy sniffs, nodding, and she crouches to brush his hair off his forehead before glancing at me. “You always were terrible at explaining things, you know that?”
I huff a weak laugh. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”
She squeezes Teddy’s shoulder. “You can’t keep doing this. You think you’re protecting him, but all you’re really doing is teaching him how to lose things without fighting for them.”
Her words hang in the air long after she leaves us alone again.
36
Sebastian
The Man He Sees in Me - Luke Combs
