“Please,” I say, not caring if I sound needy.
“I’ll cook us dinner.”
“You’re the best,” I tell him, stealing a swift kiss from his lips.
“Good luck,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me. His hug melts the icy dread in my stomach, replacing it with something warm and steady. I let myself linger in it, burying my nose in his hair, breathing in the calming clean scent of his shampoo.
But the moment can’t last. I force myself to pull away, brushing a hand over his shoulder before turning back toward the parking lot. “I’ll see you later.”
He nods, his eyes following me until the sand under my feet transitions into asphalt. I trudge to my truck parked at the edge of the lot. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I crank the key, the sputtering engine grounding me as I blast the air conditioning.
As I drive toward the café, my hands sweat against the wheel. For years I’ve told myself I didn’t care about Stephen, that I was betteroff without him. But now, I can’t help but wonder what he could possibly have to say after all this time.
When the wooden sign of the café finally appears ahead, my stomach twists. I pull into the lot, kill the engine, and just sit there a moment, staring at the door like it’s a finish line I’m not sure I’m ready to cross.
But I need to do this for Maddie. I need to make sure he stays far away from her.
Inhaling a deep breath, I step out of the truck and walk through the door. The café smells like coffee, sourdough bread, and cinnamon muffins. Mismatched chairs and pastel blue walls give it a cozy charm.
Stephen’s already there, tucked into a corner booth. There’s food at the table and two cups of water with half-melted ice. His head is bent over his phone, but he looks up when I clear my throat.
“Oh! Hi, Mason.” He fumbles a smile and gestures to the seat across from him. “Please, sit. I know you’re probably in a rush to get back to work, so I already ordered for you. I hope you like turkey clubs. The waitress said it’s their specialty.”
I slide into the booth, wiping my sweaty palms on my T-shirt. “Sure. That’s fine.”
His eyes flick over me in a quick once-over. “You look great, by the way. You’ve really grown up,” he says, but his compliments feel empty, like he’s trying too hard. “Might have to steal your workout routine.”
He laughs at his own joke, thin and awkward. I don’t.
“Well, I was a sick kid the last time you saw me,” I say evenly. “Lost ten pounds before I was diagnosed.”
His face tightens. “Right. I didn’t mean—”
“We didn’t come here to talk about me,” I cut him off sharply. “Just say what you want to say.”
Stephen shifts in his seat, folding the menu shut. For a moment, he just stares at his hands.
Finally, he clears his throat. “When your mom got pregnant with you, we were only seventeen. We were just kids. Dumb kids,” hebegins, voice low. “Our parents pressured us to get married, and we thought we could handle it. Thought we could force it to work. We tried for years. We even had another baby, thinking maybe… maybe that would fix things.” His eyes flick up, guilt written in the lines around them. “But it didn’t.”
I sit rigid, arms crossed. He keeps going.
“Your mom was depressed. Drinking too much. And I… I wasn’t any better. Her habits rubbed off on me. It was a toxic environment, and I couldn’t handle it. Then you got sick, and Maddie was still a baby. I was overwhelmed.”
A bitter laugh bursts from me before I can stop it. “Sorry my diabetes was such a burden for you.”
His head snaps up. “That’s not what I’m saying.” His voice cracks, urgent now. “I was immature and scared of responsibility. My relationship with your mom—it was poison. I started making worse and worse choices. Drugs. Disappearing at night. I was destroying myself, and I didn’t want to drag you and Maddie down with me. So I left.”
I shake my head, throat stinging. “That’s your excuse? You left to protect me?”
“I know it was the wrong decision,” he says quickly, words tumbling out. “I regretted it every single day, but I’m not that man anymore. I’ve been sober for years. I’ve got a steady job working as a mechanic, and I bought a house. I’ve built my life back up. I can’t undo the past, Mason. I know it’s too late for me to be your dad. You’re grown now. You don’t need me.”
He swallows, and for the first time his voice steadies. “But Maddie does. She’s still young,” he continues. “I want to be there for her in a way I wasn’t for you.”
My tongue slowly works over my teeth. “Did you know Mom tried to kill herself two years ago?”
Stephen blinks. “No.”
“I had to drop out of college and move back home to help raise Maddie,” I say bitterly. “If you wanted to step up and be a father, that would’ve been a great time todo so.”
