“I haven’t known them long,” she continues. “But I didn’t need to. Not really. It was obvious. What you two have…what you were building.”
Something breaks loose in my chest, a strangled sound I can’t stop. “I should have stayed away.” The words taste like regret. Like self-preservation twisted into something ugly.
There’s a long pause, and then, “You were afraid,” Kate says finally, her voice softer now. “I understand that. What you went through…” She falters, and I hear her swallow. “What we all went through, Tuck…no one should have to endure that.”
My hands drop from my face, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. Because she’s right. She loved Ben too. We all did. And when he was taken from us, it didn’t just leave a hole—it ripped something out of every one of us and never gave it back.
“For the record,” she adds, a little firmer now, like she needs me to hear this. “You didn’t fail Ben. And you didn’t fail Suzanna either. She wanted something different. A different kind of life, a different kind of love. You couldn’t give her that—not because you weren’t enough, but because you were built for something else.”
I shake my head, the painful memory rising up anyway. “He was crying, Kate.” My voice cracks, splinters. “Ben was crying. He reached for me—he fucking reached for me—and she—” I suck in a breath that burns. “She pulled him away. Like I didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t…mine. Then she told me I’d failed them.” The ache that follows is unbearable. “How could she do that?” I whisper.
Kate doesn’t answer right away. Maybe because there isn’t one. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “But I do know kids are resilient. More than we give them credit for.”
She leans her head against my shoulder, and for a moment, we just sit there. No fixing it. No pretending it’s okay. Just…existing in the wreckage of it all. The silence stretches, but it’s different now. Not empty—just full of everything we’re not saying.
Then she shifts, pulling back just enough that I feel the change before I see it. “I need to tell you something, Tuck.”
There’s something in her voice that cuts through the fog in my head. I straighten, turning to look at her, my back pressed against the railing. And when I meet her eyes, my chest tightens all over again. Because there’s pain there. And suddenly, I have a feeling that what she’s about to say might change everything.
“What is it?”
Kate hesitates, like she’s weighing whether this will heal me or break me all over again.
“I sometimes see Suzanna and Ben…around town.”
My heart slams hard against my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. “Is he okay?”
“He’s great, actually.” She rushes the words, like she needs to get them out before I spiral. “I didn’t say that to hurt you. I’m not saying he’s great because you’re not in his life. I’m saying it because…he looks really happy. Healthy.”
I drag in a breath too fast, too sharp, like it might cut me on the way down. “Kate…” It comes out wrecked, barely holding it together, and she immediately reaches for me, her hand closing over mine.
“She’s married now, Tuck. I’ve seen them at the park. All of them. Together.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight, burning. “Yeah.”
The image forms. Ben’s small hand in someone else’s. Someone else lifting him, laughing with him, being what I couldn’t be.
“Ben is happy,” Kate says gently. “He has a father now, and he seems really good to them. And if you couldn’t be the father Suzanna wanted for him…” She pauses, her voice softening even more. “Then maybe it gives you a little bit of peace knowing she found someone who could.”
I close my eyes for a second, trying to steady the storm inside me.
“For what it’s worth,” she adds. “Suzanna made a mistake. You were an amazing father to Ben. You loved him. That didn’t just disappear because she walked away. She just wanted something different for her life, and…we don’t always get to choose what other people want.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Really, he seemed happy?”
“He really did.”
Something shifts inside me then—small, fragile, but real. A knot that’s been pulled tight for years loosens just enough to let me breathe around it.
I smile, faint and aching. “I miss him.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I do too.”
“I think about him all the time.” My voice softens, drifts. “What he’d be like now. What he sounds like when he laughs. Does he remember me? Does he…like hockey?”
Kate squeezes my hand. “He might not recognize you if he saw you. He might not know your face.” She lifts her other hand, pressing it gently against my chest. “But you’re in here. You don’t spend that amount of time loving a kid without leaving something behind. You’re imprinted on his heart, Tuck. Forever.”
I let that settle, let it sink into the places that have felt empty for too long. “You think?” I ask quietly, hopeful.
