His voice sounds wrecked too. That somehow makes it worse. Jillie sleeps peacefully when I peek into her room, one hand curled beneath her cheek. Her stuffed penguin lies upside down near the pillows.
For a moment I just stand there watching her breathe.
And panic finally hits full force.
Not because of me. Because of her.
Because this is exactly how it starts. The comfort. The routines. The attachment.
A man showing up enough times that a child starts expecting him to stay.
My stomach twists painfully. I still remember every question Jillie asked after Darren left.
When is he coming back?
Did he forget me?
Did I do something wrong?
The worst part wasn’t answering. It was watching her slowly stop asking.
That quiet acceptance hurt more than the crying ever did.
And now here I am letting another man into our lives because somehow Colby Reid keeps feeling safe.
Famous men leave. Athletes leave. Temporary things leave. I press my fingers hard against my forehead.
This is fake.
Fake dating.
Fake relationship.
Fake future.
So why does it feel terrifyingly real when he’s sitting in my living room folding my daughter’s blanket like he belongs here?
I return to the living room a few minutes later. Colby stands near the window now, looking out at the snow-covered street.
He turns when I enter. Something unreadable moves across his face. “I should go,” he says softly.
Relief and disappointment collide painfully inside me again. “I’ll walk you out.”
We stand awkwardly near the front door for half a second too long while he pulls on his boots and coat.
The house suddenly feels colder already.
That realization alarms me enough to immediately shut it down emotionally.
Nope. Absolutely not.
This is exactly why boundaries exist.
Colby reaches for the doorknob, then pauses. “I don’t really want to leave Briar Cove.”
The quiet confession lands directly in the center of my chest.
Not hockey.
