Colt exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Emma, stop doing this to yourself.” His tone is firm but sincere. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but you’re not your mom. You’re nothing like her. When you found out Milo was hurt, you dropped everything just to be here. Even if you couldn’t be there right away, you showed up for him as soon as you could. That’s what matters.”
The words feel rough on my skin. The truth has always been uncomfortable for me, but tonight, I’m facing it head-on.
“You think that’s enough?” I ask.
“I know it is,” Colt replies. He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Milo’s a kid, Emma. He will get hurt, scrape his knees, and break a bone or two. That’s life. But he’s got you—someone who always shows up, no matter what.”
Another tear slips out, but I don’t bother hiding it fromhim. “I just—I don’t want him to ever feel like I did when I was a kid. I want him to know I’ll always be there for him. I need him to know that, Colt.”
Colt shakes his head. “Trust me, that kid knows how much you love him. You’re his whole world, Em. One night won’t change that.”
I look at him, and the sincerity there stops me short. For all the ways Colt and I didn’t work, he’s always had this endearing side that made me feel like I could rely on him even on my most challenging days. He’s always been there for me, even after our love took a detour.
“Thank you,” I mutter, my throat tight. “I needed to hear that.”
He offers a smile that feels like a crutch I need to lean on. “Anytime. Now, come on,” he says, gesturing toward the door. “Milo’s been asking for you.”
I nod and follow Colt through the narrow doorway to a small treatment room. Milo is curled up in a hospital bed, his face blotchy from crying but now calm as he snuggles against his grandmother’s chest. His arm is encased in a bright blue cast, his favorite color. His lower lip trembles when he sees me, and his free hand reaches out.
“Mommy,” he says, his voice small and shaky.
“Oh, baby,” I rush to him, carefully scooping him into my arms. His tiny body clings to me, his face buried in my neck. “I’m here. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Mommy’s here now.”
He sniffles quietly as I gently rock him, whispering calm encouragement against his hair. His hand clutches at my shirt, and he sniffles. “It hurts,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.
“I know, baby,” I whisper, swaying him gently as tears threaten to spill out of my eyes. “I’m so proud of you for being strong. You’re so brave.”
Milo leans his head against my shoulder, and I let out a breath of relief. The guilt feels less sharp now but still pressesfirmly on my mind. I should’ve been the one to hold him when he cried, the one to reassure him when he was scared.
Colt’s mom stands and gives my arm a gentle pat. “He’ll be just fine, Emma. Kids are a lot tougher than you think.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Thank you for staying with him.”
“Of course,” she says, gathering her things.
Colt’s dad clears his throat. “We’ll leave you two to it. Call if you need anything.”
As they leave, Colt shifts on his feet. “Do you need a ride home?”
“Actually, can you give me a ride into town? That’s where my car is,” I say, looking down at Milo, who’s starting to drift off against my shoulder.
“Of course,” he answers. Colt gives me a quick nod and heads out. I adjust Milo in my arms, pressing a kiss to his temple as I follow Colt to his truck.
The silence in Colt’s truck is heavy but comfortable as we pull out of the hospital parking lot. Milo is strapped into his car seat in the back, his head tilted against the side as he drifts into an exhausted sleep. His tiny hand is curled loosely around the edge of his blanket, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep.
I steal a glance at Colt. His jaw is set, and his hands are steady on the wheel, but the faint crease between his brows tells me he’s lost in thought.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, breaking the quiet.
He glances at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. “It’s no problem. You’d do the same for me.”
I nod, but something about his easy response pokes at a tender place in my chest. “I’m glad you were there tonight,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a great dad.”
Colt shifts awkwardly, and his hands slide across the steering wheel. Compliments were rare between us. “Milo’s lucky. He’s got two parents who love him like crazy.”
I try to respond, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I offer a faint smile and turn my body back toward the window, letting the quiet settle again.
After a moment, Colt speaks again, his tone casual but probing. “That guy—Henry—he was with you tonight?”
