We sipped in silence for a while; the kind of silence that only comes from being around someone who’s known you long enough to understand when you’re not quite ready to talk, but close.
“You okay?” I asked gently.
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she stared at her mug and blew across the surface before saying, “I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Not at first.”
I waited.
“I went back to the hotel alone the next day,” she said. “Something felt off so I took a pregnancy test a few weeks later. I reached out to let him know and the father clarified that he wanted nothing to do with either of us.”
“Madison…”
“I’m not heartbroken about him,” she said quickly. “It’s not that. I’m okay with raising her alone. I am. But..” Her voice broke. “The pregnancy’s been hard. I’m considered high risk.Some blood pressure complications and they’re monitoring for preeclampsia.”
The word hit the air like a weight.
“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew more,” she admitted. “Until I could say it without crying. But I’m scared. And tired. And trying to act like I’ve got everything under control when half the time I don’t even know where I put my car keys.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” I said, squeezing her hand.
She looked at me, eyes glossy. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not. You’re never a burden. You’ve been my anchor, Mads. Let me be yours now.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t even know what I need.”
“Let’s figure it out together, however long it takes.”
We stayed like that for a while, hands clasped between two mugs of apple cider, the smoke alarm long forgotten.
At that moment, I realized something: coming home wasn’t just about healing my past. It was about showing up for someone else. For the person who always showed up for me.
And for the first time, I didn’t just feel like I was back.
I felt like I was starting to belong.
Chapter 9
Greyson
I couldn’t stop thinking about Blair.
Even after she left the bar, I cleaned up, locked the front door, and drove home in the rain. It was like her voice followed me, soft and unsure, still holding pieces of pain I didn’t fully understand.
She’d said she missed the bar. Being here made her feel a little more like herself.
I wanted to believe that meant she was thinking about staying.
The next day, I showed up at Madison’s place with takeout and a six-pack. “Peace offering,” I told her.
Blair answered the door in leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair in a messy bun. Adorable. My honey bee.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
We sat on the couch, the three of us, passing cartons of lo mein and watching some baking competition show. Madison fell asleep halfway through and started snoring softly. Blair leaned into me a little, her shoulder brushing mine.
