Angry at every damn choice I’d ever made that led us to this breaking point.
Because when I walked away from Sloane last night, I tore a huge, searing hole in my own heart where she used to be.
And I knew—God, I fucking knew—she was the only one who could ever fill it.
Chapter Four
Sloane
Morning at Anita’s house was unusually quiet.
I sat at the kitchen table with Harper, picking at my breakfast while she chattered softly beside me. Across the room, Anita moved around the kitchen, wiping down counters, rearranging things that didn’t need rearranging. She was always in motion, always doing something, like stillness made her uneasy.
There was something different in the way she kept glancing at me. Her eyes looked heavier than usual, her expression tight, and every time our eyes almost met, she looked away.
She looked troubled.
And I didn’t need to ask why.
Cameron must’ve told her about the separation last night. The twist of anxiety in my chest tightened, and I kept waiting for the moment she’d turn around, sit across from me, and say the words I was bracing for—that she blamed me. That this was my fault.
Hearing those words from her would shatter me. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to bear it. I understood she was his mother, that her love for him ran deep, no matter his faults. Still, what I needed more than anything was for her not to hate me. Not to shut me out. Especially not after Cameron had already left me.
Anita disappeared into her bedroom to get ready, as she’d be walking Harper to school. It was only a few blocks away from her house. Meanwhile, Harper kept asking, “Where’s Daddy? Isn’t he coming to see me?”
It was just another part of the act Cameron and I played every day. He’d come home in the mornings while Harper was still asleep, and in the evenings, he stayed just long enough to tuck her in before leaving again. On weekends, he’d take her to the mall or the park, then drop her off like nothing was different, blaming work for why he couldn’t stay.
We’d been doing this for a month—pretending, avoiding, trying to keep the truth from settling in her little world.
I chewed my pancake with trepidation, eyes fixed on Anita’s bedroom door, bracing for the moment she’d come out and finally say that, starting today, I wasn’t welcome here anymore. After all, Cameron was her youngest and favorite.
But before that could happen, Caleb—Cameron’s older brother—walked into the kitchen, his voice slicing through the quiet.
“Why’s Cam waiting outside? He said Mom wouldn’t let him in.”
I looked up in surprise at the tall man, who seemed only half-awake, his hands tangled in the overgrown strands of his hair as he wrestled it into a messy little bun. He wore his usual combo: a worn leather jacket layered over a rumpled shirt and dark jeans. He clearly just rolled out of bed, but there was still that lazy, effortless swagger everyone knew him for.
“He’s out there freezing his ass off,” he added, already heading for the table.
My eyes darted to the front door, confused. Why hadn’t Cameron come inside?
Caleb plopped down next to Harper, kissed her cheek, then swiped a strawberry off her plate. Harper shot him a death glare, but he just grinned, tweaked her nose, and winked.
Then, as if Caleb’s words had just sunk in, suddenly, Harper’s face lit up. “Daddy? He’s outside?” she squealed, excitementspilling out of her. She pushed her chair back, jumped to her feet, and bolted for the front door.
She yanked it open and let out another squeal, probably spotting Cameron standing there.
A small smile tugged at my lips. Despite everything, I knew Cameron loved his daughter deeply, and Harper still deserved that love.
I sighed and glanced away, feeling Caleb’s gaze settle heavily on me. “What?” I asked.
He shrugged. “What happened with you two?”
I shrugged back. “That’s a question you should ask your brother.”
Then his eyes fell to my hand holding the fork. “Where’s your wedding ring?”
That was a loaded question that I needed a moment to think about. But I answered with the truth. “I gave it back to him.”
