“And you do,” he says, steady as stone. “Every day.”
I shake my head, staring at the road. “It was like I was watching it in slow motion. And I just froze.”
He exhales slowly, and I can feel him watching me. “You didn’t freeze, Katie. You did what any good mom would do. You were scared. That’s human.”
His voice is gentle, but it makes something sharp rise in my throat. “Don’t tell me I did fine. She got hurt.”
“I know,” he says softly. “And it scared the hell out of you. But she’s okay because you were there, and her arm will heal. It’s not the last time she’ll get hurt. Today it was her arm, in ten years it will be heartbreak. But we’ll be there to get her through it.”
“We?” I echo, my voice catching on the word.
He pauses like he knows he didn’t mean to say it. “Maybe we.”
The word sits between us like a live wire. I don’t know whether to hold onto it or run from it.
I glance in the mirror—Evie’s asleep, her mouth open, hair sticking to her forehead. I swallow hard. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Cam. You didn’t sign up for emergencies and casts and…” I wave a hand helplessly. “All of this.”
He frowns. “I did, actually.”
“That’s not what this was supposed to be.”
“Maybe not,” he says quietly, “but I like helping you, Katie.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him that needing help feels too much like failing—but the words don’t come. I just drive, the road curving through the edges of Cedar Falls.
When we pull into my driveway, he unbuckles first, already headed for the back door of the car.
He looks at me, and that calm patience of his softens into something else—understanding. “I know you can carry her, but let me help?”
My chest aches. I don’t move as he unbuckles Evie, lifting her gently into his arms. She stirs but doesn’t wake, her head resting against his shoulder like she’s always belonged there.
I follow them to the door, unlocking it with shaking hands. He carries her straight to her room, lays her on the bed with a tenderness that guts me, and tucks Matilda the dinosaur under her good arm and a pillow under her cast.
When he steps back into the hall, he gives me a small, careful smile. “She’ll be sore, but she’ll be fine.” He pauses, then kisses my cheek. “Listen, I’m going to stay at my place tonight, give you some room. Text me if you need anything, I mean it. I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“Cam—” I start, but my voice catches.
He pauses at the door.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His smile deepens just enough to reach his eyes. “Anytime, Katie.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing in the entryway with my heart tangled between gratitude and fear.
I’ve spent years teaching myself how to keep everything together. How to budget down to the last dollar. How to plan for emergencies. How to be the one who never needs help because help always comes with expectations I can’t afford.
That strength kept us afloat.
It also kept everyone at a distance.
From down the hall, Evie snores softly. I check on her one more time, brushing her hair back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The cast looks too big on her small arm, a reminder of how quickly things can go wrong.
I was supposed to be the one who held it all together tonight.
Instead, I came apart.
And Cam stepped in without hesitation.
