I huffed a quiet laugh. “Sounds about right.”
She glanced toward the hallway, maternal instinct permanently switched on now. “He’s worth it though. Even when he screams like a tiny dictator.”
“And you?” I asked gently.
She shrugged. “Surviving. Zariah’s been a godsend. Eli’s obsessed with being the big uncle. Cal’s… trying. Really trying.”
The mention of Cal still stung, but I forced myself to stay steady.
I nodded. Took a breath.
“Hadley… can we talk?”
Her posture stiffened slightly. Not fear. Recognition. Like she already knew where this was going.
“Okay.”
I set my coffee down, palms suddenly damp.
“I know I already told you how I felt,” I said quietly. “Before… everything exploded. Before Asher. Before rehab. Before the divorce filings.”
She stayed silent, listening.
“I’m not here to repeat it,” I continued. “I’m here because things have changed. You and Cal are separating. You’re rebuilding your life. And I needed to ask… if anything changed for you. If there’s even a possibility now. Or someday.”
Hadley’s gaze dropped to her hands. Then toward the nursery door again, like Asher was her anchor.
When she finally looked back at me, her expression was soft but resolved.
“I do see you, Kei. I’ve always seen you. You’ve been kind to me when no one else was. You listened. You checked in. You defended me when you could. I appreciate that more than I can explain.”
My chest tightened anyway. “But.”
“But I still can’t,” she said gently. “Not with you. Not with any of you.”
I swallowed. “What does that mean… exactly?”
She exhaled slowly, choosing her words with care.
“You, Cal, Jake, Holland… even Sydney, though she’s gone now. You’re all toxic. Not individually evil. Not monsters. But together? You enabled each other for years.”
The words landed like stones. Expected. Still heavy.
“You covered for Sydney when she manipulated him,” she continued. “You stayed silent when she weaponized your shared trauma to hurt me. You watched Cal spiral and didn’t force him into help until it was almost too late. You let the group dynamic excuse bad behavior because ‘we survived Mexico together.’ But survival doesn’t give you a free pass to hurt people.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. She wasn’t wrong.
“I kissed you,” I said hoarsely. “That part was me. Not the group.”
“And I pushed you away,” she said gently. “But you still crossed that line knowing how fragile everything was. Knowing I was pregnant. Emotional. Lonely. You might not have meant to take advantage… but you were standing in a moment that was never yours to take.”
My hands shook in my lap. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But intent doesn’t erase impact. And right now, I need distance from all of that. From the band. Fromthe trauma-bonding. From the way you all orbit each other and leave everyone else collateral damage.”
I nodded slowly, throat burning. “So… there’s no chance? Even down the line?”
“Not right now,” she said. “And I can’t promise an ‘ever.’ I’m focusing on Asher. On Eli. On myself. I’m in therapy now, real therapy, not just co-parenting sessions. And I need people in my life who aren’t tied to that past.”
