“I know, I know.” He drags his palms down his face with a groan; I hear the scratch of his scruff against his skin. “It’s not fair. I go in there expecting you to talk, and then I can’t even do the same.”
I cross my arms, affirmed.
“When did I start getting it wrong?” His gaze drops to our feet. His hand rubs the back of his neck, like he can scrub the guilt out. “I don’t even make their lunch anymore. I irritate you instead of helping. I can’t fix any of it. Why can’t I fix it?”
“Maybe that’s the problem, Steven.” I take a breath. “You’re focusing on how to fix it, instead of just being in it.” He blinks at me, confused.
“You can’t fix everything. Especially me.” The horrible truth tightens my throat. “I’ve been this way since before we were together. Sometimes just being in it with me is all you need to do.”
“How?” It’s barely a word.
I shrug, having no idea myself. “Go back to the basics, maybe? Back tobeforelife got like this.”
His eyes are glassy, the late-afternoon sunlight catching on the tears now traveling down the bridge of his nose. There’s pain there. A life we didn’t ask for. A life that has torn us into pieces. A life he has been refusing to let break him any more. “What if I can’t?”
I swallow hard. “What if youhave to? What if it’s the only way?”
Chapter nine
Emma
When They Were Little
“Whydotheymakethese things so difficult?” Steven grunts, snapping Sawyer’s onesie closed with a sharpclick, wrestling against flailing arms and bicycling legs.
“User error?” I tease from the rocking chair, cradling Easton against my chest as he melts into me.
The twins are opposites down to the bone. Sawyer, always in motion, always testing limits, is all Steven. Bold, impulsive, a little wild. But Easton watches the world carefully, like it’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. He’s all me.
Yet, somehow, my love for them is the same, evenly split. My heart beating outside of my chest was something I never thought possible, let alone beating twice over in two tiny bodies. When we found out we were having twins, I was terrified. I don’t know why we were surprised; Steven has two sets of twin siblings. Genetics had practically left us a roadmap.
Those early months were long and fragile. Most days, I couldn’t leave the house for fear of losing them at the gas station. My anxiety was constantly buzzing beneath the surface like static, always there. My emotions were becoming a disruption to our life, no matter how hard I tried to work through them. But eventually, medication ended up being the answer, even though I swore I would never need it. Now, here we are, two years later, and we’re still standing. We’re leaving the house every day. We’rethriving.
“Ugh, there!” Steven announces with triumph, finally securing the last snap, Sawyer still wiggling.
Well,mostof us are thriving.
Steven’s been working extra shifts to ensure I have a way to stay home with the boys. That means bedtime is often the most time he gets with them. He handles this well, but some nights, I can feel the weight of that distance clinging to him. There are so many reasons for him to close off and retreat, but he pushes through—most of the time. Though, some days, when it’s all of us, doing the simple life things together, it’s not enough. The exhaustion of his responsibilities gets the best of him, distracting him, pulling him away. Even when there isn’t anything to do but justbetogether, I can see in his dark eyes that he’s everywhere but here with us. With me.
But tonight, he is here, in the thick of it with me.
“Alright, boys,” he declares, like he’s summoning the cavalry. “Bedtime story.”
Like soldiers listening to command, they scramble to their beds, one on either side of the room, with Steven taking up every inch of the narrow space between them. I settle back in the recliner, wedged between the dresser and wall. There’s not much walking room when we’re all in here.
Steven says we’re outgrowing this house, and I know he’s right. But I can’t bring myself to look for anything else. This is our first home. Where we came after our wedding instead of some fancy hotel. Where we celebrated Steven matching at the ER residency five miles away. Where we brought our boys home. So many memories have happened here.
I fight the whirl of emotions that comes with remembering and focus on Steven’s words as he spins magic in real time.
“Is there a princess?” Easton asks, smirking beneath his blanket.
“Of course there is,” Steven says, his eyes drifting to mine. “The most beautiful perfectprincess in all the land.”
He holds my gaze for a beat too long, like he’s forgotten where he is for a moment, and the heat of it travels down to my toes.
“There was once a knight,” he goes on, voice lifting with excitement. “Big and strong. The mightiest of knights.” He puffs his chest out ridiculously wide. The boys are captivated.
“He slayed dragons, and giants, and protected his kingdom from…the muddy dwellers.”
