So many memories I’ll never have, of memories that belonged to both Lila and me and no one else. Moments I should’ve lived instead of being told after the fact.
Lila took it all away from me.
And yet, I understand exactly why she did it. But it doesn’t take that pain away either.
Where warmth usually rests in our bond, it almost trembles like a nerve stretched too tight, aching and pulsing from both sides. I feel just how difficult this is for her, and in turn, I know she feels my agony too.
Shutting my eyes, I close it off for the time being. I can’t do it.
My feelings for her have reached a place I never imagined possible before, but caring for her and wanting a future together don’t make up for years of not knowing my own child existed.
Pulling in a slow, shuddering breath, the same word echoes in my mind.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’ll face her. I’ll talk to her once I’ve gained some control over my emotions, and I’ll listen. But for now, I need time to reconcile with the fact that I’m a father, and one who’s been kept from his own blood.
So I push off the counter, walk down the hall and past Astrid’s room, and go to our room alone.
It feels as cold and lonely as ever, but for now, it’s what I need.
Chapter 23 - Lila
I can hardly look at you right now…
Caleb’s words echo in my head long after I was told to sleep in the guest room with Astrid, and even a few days later.
That rejection stabs into me all over again, slow and merciless, but entirely avoidable. I knew it was going to happen. I knew that continuing to keep that secret from him would only delay the inevitable, and I knew letting myself fall back into him would land me exactly here.
But I did it anyway. I gave him space in my heart after he broke it, and now I’m paying for it.
It’s hard to gain any clarity while staying in his house. While everything is his, and everything smells like his. It all belongs to Caleb, and every corner is a reminder of him looming in my life.
As much as I don’t want to fall into the same category, a piece of me belongs to him, too.
I want to hate him. I want to so badly, and to tell myself that he didn’t deserve to know any part of the truth—that he never deserved to feel the warmth of Astrid’s existence, that the years of pain he put me through don’t compare to the four years he lost.
But that hatred falls short because I know it isn’t true.
Even when he had no idea Astrid was his, he still protected her like she was anyway. Every time she laughed with him or willingly found herself in his arms, he soaked it in like she was the sun, yet he didn’t know. I know he would rather die before letting anything happen to her, and that’s exactly the problem.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, he is the only one strong enough to protect us.
He’s the only one willing to safeguard us with everything he has, even when it means shouldering the pack’s doubt.
But right now, it feels like none of that matters. Not while the last few days have gone by with nothing short of torturous tension and raw aching.
It’s been hard to manage anything while I feel nothing but cold silence through the bond. That absence has me feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before, and I can’t shake the lingering dread in my gut.
I keep thinking over and over again that Astrid deserves better from me, and right now, I’m not so sure I’m capable of giving her that.
Caleb has barely looked at me. Even when it seems like he’s ready to say something, or to pick up where we left off, he cuts it off and continues.
He’s civil and controlled, but that’s the extent of it for me. To Astrid, he speaks normally as expected, with warmth and patience.
I’m glad he does, because at least then she has a better chance of not knowing what’s going on.
I try to make peace with that nothingness he gives me, but it’s hard when that kind of silence starts to hurt more than yelling.
