“Oh, shit. Come here.”
Caleb wraps his arms around me, and I close my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder.
For a moment, we stand in silence, his warmth pressed against mine, and the tension rolls out of my shoulders.
He leads me into the living room and guides me to the couch where we sit.
“What’s caused this?”
Tears well in my eyes.
“My … It was my father at the door.”
“Your father? What the hell is he doing here? I don’t think you’ve told me the whole story.”
Shaking my head, I bury deeper into him, sliding my arms around his chest.
“Let me in,” he whispers. “Tell me everything you’re holding back. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”
“I’m not asking for your help.”
He chuckles. “You always were stubborn.”
I know that I need to open up, and Caleb is the only person I can talk to about this.
“There’s … there’s just so much.”
I’ve been so strong for everyone else, and now I need to be strong for me.
The front door opens with a click. “Mum? Was that Grandad driving away? He looked pissed. Are you okay?”
I wriggle out of Caleb’s arms and step back. He looks at me, confused, his brow furrowed.
“I’m fine,” I call out.
I’m not fine.
I thought I had some time to tell Caleb—to ease him into this, but all that shatters as Noah steps through the doorway.
“Mum?”
Caleb’s eyes are glued to my son—our son.
I know what he sees. I’ve seen it every day for the past twenty-six years.
Noah could be Caleb’s twin.
There’s nothing of me in there, and Malcolm resented it every single day.
“I’m fine,” I say, my eyes fixed on my son.
He frowns, his gaze flicking between me and Caleb. He sees it—he must. There’s no mistaking it.
“We really need to have that conversation.” Caleb’s tone is terse. I didn’t want to keep it from him—always meant to tell him. But then he was there, and it knocked me sideways.
And Noah?
Noah needs to be a part of this conversation.
