“Anything for you.” I lean down to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be right back. Just going to check on something.”
She doesn’t even look up, already lost in the colorful chaos of the cartoon. I slip away, my steps soft as I make my way back upstairs.
When I reach the bedroom, I ease the door open, slipping inside without a sound. Lucy’s sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed now. Her hair’s still a mess, and her face is caught between embarrassment and something else, like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or keep hiding.
“How’s Isla?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
“She’s fine,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Hot chocolate and cartoons work miracles.”
She nods, offering me a soft smile. “I should go,” she says, standing up, a little reluctant. “I really do need to get home and change before work.”
I know she’s right, but I hate it at the same time. “I’ll walk you out.”
We move silently down the stairs, careful to keep our steps quiet. At the front door, I hesitate. My hand lingers on the handle, not sure of what to say.
She solves the problem for me, rising on her tiptoes and leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Have a safe trip,” she whispers. “I’ll…see you when you get back?”
I know I’m an ass for not defining whatever this is with her before I leave, especially after last night. It’s suddenly hitting me that this isn’t like the other times I’ve left for a rotation. Before, it was just Isla I was leaving behind. My little girl who I’d kiss goodbye and promise to call, whose drawings I’d tuck into my bag to tape up in my bunk. That was hard enough.
Now there’s Lucy. Lucy with her soft skin and quiet laugh and the way she fits against me like she was madeto be there. Lucy, who I just had in my bed, and somehow, I think, snuck into the parts of me I’ve kept locked down for years.
I’m leaving her, too.
I swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll call you while I’m gone.”
I want to say more, but the words jam in my throat. What am I supposed to tell her? That I’m already dreading the empty bunk on the rig? That I’ll be counting down the days until I can touch her again?
Her eyes search mine for a second, like she’s looking for some kind of confirmation or clue that I mean it. Finally, she nods, her smile a little sad before she slips through the door. Her chestnut hair catches the morning light, and I can’t take my eyes off her. As she reaches her car, she turns and gives a small wave. I raise my hand in return, feeling something twist painfully in my chest.
I close the door quietly behind me, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. I let out a long, slow breath. The house feels emptier now. Colder.
Three weeks is going to be brutal.
There’s no going back to pretending I don’t want this. The way she handled Isla showing up, the way she didn’t bolt the second things got complicated—it’s more than I ever thought I could ask for.
For now, though, I have to push all that aside. My job is simple today. Be Dad. Make pancakes. Watch cartoons. Hold my daughter tight before I leave.
twenty-seven
LUCY
I’m in Knox’s loud kitchen, surrounded by people who love me. I’m here, but…not here.
Aidan said he’d call.
Notmaybe. He said it like a promise, and stupid, hopeful me believed him. A full week of zero communication has settled in my stomach like a lead weight I can’t shake off, no matter how many times I try to tell myself I’m fine.
No call. No messages. Not even a simple “hey, talk soon” text. Just silence. Cold and loud and echoing in all the spaces he left behind.
I keep telling myself he’s busy. That it’s a rig, a godforsaken, floating tin can in the middle of the North Sea. Bad signal. Long shifts. Time slipping away easier out there. That’s all.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try to stay rational. The same dreaded thought keeps circling back.
What if he changed his mind?
What if all that tenderness, all that heat and honesty he poured into me that night, wasn’t what I thought it was? What if it was temporary? Convenient?
