She studied me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face like she was looking for the lie. “You’re really going? Not just talking about it?”
“I’m terrified,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “But yeah. I signed the papers last night. I have to do this. For Asher. For her. For all of us.”
Zariah glanced back at the SUV, where Hadley was adjusting Asher’s blanket through the open door. Her shoulders softened just a fraction. “What are you offering? A pity job? Some handout?”
“No. A real one.” I pulled out my phone, opened the notes app where I’d typed this out the night before, my hands shaking as I handed it to her.
“Personal assistant for the family. Flexible hours. Good pay, six figures. Benefits. You can work remotely half the time if you want. Help with Asher when Hadley needs a break. Drive Eli to robotics. Whatever she needs. I’ll cover your rent, relocation, everything. Just… stay close to her. Please.”
She read it slowly, her brows furrowing. “This is serious money. Benefits? You’re not bullshitting me?”
“I swear,” I said, meeting her eyes. “It’s legit. The label’s on board, they need someone reliable for our charity stuff anyway.But this is for Hadley. You’d be helping her build something stable without me dragging her down.”
Zariah folded her arms again, but there was a flicker in her eyes, hesitation, maybe even consideration. “You know I could just say yes and then bail when you fuck up again.”
“I know,” I said, my voice raw. “But I’m begging you not to. She trusts you. She needs someone who won’t leave when it gets hard. And I’m going to get better. I have to.”
She was quiet for what felt like an eternity, the parking lot wind whipping around us. Then she sighed, long and heavy. “Fine. I’ll stay. But this job is for Hadley and the kids. Not for you. And if you fuck up again, even once, I’m gone, and I’m taking her with me. Understand?”
Relief crashed through me so hard my knees almost buckled, a sob catching in my throat. “Thank you. Jesus, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Earn it. And don’t think this makes us friends. You’ve got a lot to prove.”
I nodded, wiping at my eyes quickly. “I will. I promise.”
She turned back toward the car, pausing once. “For what it’s worth… I’m glad you’re going to rehab. Don’t waste it.”
I left the hospital that night after the divorce with Hadley and went straight to Calabasas.
The apartment I’d found was four bedrooms, two stories, gated community with twenty-four-hour security. Walking distance to a park, good schools nearby for Eli. I paid six months upfront, signed in Hadley’s name only.
Then I spent the next twelve hours there.
I had the nursery redecorated, soft gray walls, white crib with navy accents, rocking chair by the window. I hung the mobile we’d picked out together, the one with little stars and guitars. I stocked the closet with the clothes from the baby shower. I even set up a small recording nook in one corner, nothing fancy, just a keyboard and headphones, so if I ever got to come over and sing to him, I could.
When it was done, I stood in the middle of the room and cried again.
I stocked the fridge with her favorite snacks, pickles, ice cream, those weird protein bars she craved. I left a note on the kitchen counter:
This is yours. No strings. Just a safe place.
I love you both.
—Cal
Then I drove to rehab.
Thirty days felt like thirty years.
The facility was quiet, rolling hills, group circles, one-on-one sessions that ripped me open every day. I cried more than I’d cried in my entire life, gut-wrenching sobs in therapy, quiet tears in bed at night. I talked about Mexico.
About the kidnapping. About the drugs that followed. About how I’d used them to stay numb so I never had to feel the abandonment again. About how I’d pushed Hadley away because letting her in meant risking losing her, and then I lost her anyway.
Every evening at 7 p.m., they let us make one supervised video call.
I called Hadley every single night.
The first week, she barely spoke. Just held the phone up so I could see Asher’s face, his tiny features filling the screen, his little breaths and gurgles breaking me every time.
