Chapter 38
Cal
She got out slowly, her eyes locking on mine. She looked beautiful, tired, but strong, her hair pulled back, holding herself together in that way only she could.
I looked at her, then at the tiny face in the car seat, Asher, awake, staring at me with big dark eyes that seemed to recognize me somehow.
“Hey,” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears welled up instantly.
“Hey,” she said back, her own eyes glistening.
I stepped forward, my hands shaking. “Can I...”
She nodded, a small smile breaking through.
I unbuckled him carefully, lifting him out. He was heavier already, warm, solid, smelling like baby lotion and home. He grabbed my hoodie string and tugged, cooing softly.
I laughed, shaky, overwhelmed, tears streaming down my face as I held him close. “Missed you, little man. God, I missed you so much.”
Hadley watched us, wiping her own tears. “He’s been waiting for you.”
We got in the car. She drove toward Calabasas.
I held Asher the whole way, talking softly to him through the lump in my throat. “Your mom’s been taking such good care of you. Look at you, growing like a weed. I’m gonna try to be half as good as her, okay? I promise.”
When we pulled up to the apartment building, I froze, my heart twisting.
“You brought me here?”
“I wanted you to see it,” she said, her voice gentle. “Before we talk.”
Inside, everything perfect. The nursery hit me hardest, the constellations glowing faintly, the mobile spinning slowly. Asher fussed in my arms. I changed him on the new table, my hands still unsteady, then rocked him in the chair until he drifted off, his little fist clutching my finger.
Then we sat on the couch, Asher between us in his bouncer.
Hadley took a deep breath, folding her hands together like she needed to physically hold herself steady. Her eyes stayed on Asher for a long moment before she finally looked at me.
“We need to talk about the divorce.”
My stomach dropped, fear crawling up my spine like ice water. “Okay.”
Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Real.
“I still want one,” she said quietly.
Her voice didn’t shake. But her fingers twisted together so tightly her knuckles went pale.
“I need it, Cal,” she continued. “Not because I hate you. Not because I want to punish you. But because I need to know I exist outside of you. That my happiness, my stability, my identity… isn’t built on hoping you won’t disappear emotionally again.”
I swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t have had to hope at all.”
“No,” she agreed softly. “I shouldn’t have.”
She exhaled slowly, like each word cost something.
“I loved you so blindly it scared me. I kept shrinking pieces of myself to fit whatever space you left open. And when there was no space… I just waited. I waited for you to look at me like I mattered the way the band did. The way Sydney did. The way your trauma did.”
My chest cracked open at that.
