But the truth?
I loved him the moment I saw him.
I just locked it away somewhere safe.
His arm tightens slightly around me in his sleep.
Like some part of him refuses to let go.
My throat burns.
I think about Mildred.
The flooded kitchen.
The message behind it.
I think about my mother.
About how she never got a second chance.
I press my hand gently over Saint’s.
He stayed.
He didn’t run when things got complicated.
He didn’t hesitate when he saw Emmy.
God help me…
I believe him.
Emmy fusses softly.
Before I can move, Saint is already sitting up.
“I got her,” he murmurs.
He lifts her from the bassinet like he’s done it a thousand times.
And suddenly I see something different.
Not the Ranger.
Not the protector.
A father.
He walks her slowly, whispering nonsense until she quiets.
“She’s hungry,” he says.
I take her and feed her while he sits beside me, one steady hand on my back.
No pressure.
No expectations.
