“Say it, Nate.”
My throat burned. My fingers dug into the edge of my kitchen counter. In front of me was a notebook: words about mistaking usefulness for love, about how it was easier to chase the feeling of being essential than to sit with the truth that you’relovedand not indispensable. Because I got confused, and I fucked up.
“I cheated,” I whispered.“Not just by letting her kiss me. Not just by kissing her back. But because… because I let her fill needs I didn’t want to admit I had.”
“You’re right,” she said gently.“And what does that mean?”
“It means I’ve become my father.”
“No, it means you have wounds. And follow patterns toavoid pain.”The strength in her tone turned to softness at the end.
I closed my eyes. The sun pressed hot against my lids. There was someone I needed to talk to, someone I needed to look in the eyes and challenge if I was ever going to rebuild myself solidly enough to win Robyn again.
“Mom… I need to talk to Dad.”I pushed away from the counter, pacing a short line across the tile.“See if I’m really him, and if I am, figure out how to not be.”
“And why tell me this?”
My steps slowed. I pressed my thumb into the ridge above my brow.“So you don’t think—so you don’t think I wish I’d had him instead of you.”
Her inhale was quiet but sure, the kind of breath she used to take before telling me the truth.“Talking to your father doesn’t change how you love me. Or how I raised you.”
I leaned my hip against the counter, grounding myself.
“But you need to confront the truth,” she continued.“When he walked out, he left you too. And that did something to you.”Another soft exhale.“I can be a sounding board, but I’m not him. And I’m not you. I don’t know or can’t give you what you need from him.”
The call ended after saying our goodbyes and Mom assuring me I was free to call Dad if I needed. And I needed to. The sounds of the present crash back—the hammering and screeching of metal, the crew’s distant laughter.
Before I get back in my truck, someone calls my name. A young kid, who looks barely twenty, is jogging up to me, hair flopping with each step.
“How did you do that, mister?”
“Do what, kid?”
He catches his breath. “Looking at the construction site… and just knowing. Dude,” he says. “It was like seeing the future.”
I chuckle. It was a disaster averted for them.
“I can teach you the basics. What’s your name?”
“Mickey, mister.”
Mister.“I’ll call you next time I’m on-site.”
For me, though, the work isn’t done. I still have to prove I can face the consequences, show Robyn I valued us enough to look for answers, to become better. I’ve stared at the notebooks, read every book, sifted through memory after memory until the words stopped feeling like riddles and started feeling like answers, a direction, a way forward.
It’s time to earn Robyn’s trust back—time to see if she’ll ever care to hear it.
I’m holdinga cappuccino with an extra shot as I wait for Robyn to come downstairs. Walking from the parking lot to my building, I saw her light on and couldn’t help myself, so I buzzed her unit. There’s something really important she’s not seeing—and I know she’ll regret it. I won’t just stand by and watch it slip through her fingers.
The door cracks open. “What, Nate?”
She sticks only her head out, the rest of her tucked behind the glass door, keeping herself inside the warmth of her building. No shoes—just fuzzy socks, toes curling on the threshold. Her breath wisps out into the cold.
For a heartbeat, I second-guess what I’m doing. She deserves to know everything about the man she’s spending time with, deserves to walk into things with clear eyes, but that’s not why I’m here. Whoever she chooses, that’s her choice. This is about something bigger than us.
“Are you here to bring me coffee?” Her eyes flick to theLoam & Latte cup in my hand, a quick, almost reflexive glance.
I feel stupid. My fingers tighten around the lid. I used to do this—show up with coffee just because it made her smile. And because it made me feel good to make her smile.
