My heart rate picks up. "And?"
"And it's complicated." She stops walking, turning to face me. "My whole life is there, Cade. My job, my house, my parents. Ruby's school, her friends, her soccer team. It's not as simple as just packing up and moving."
"I know." I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. "But is it impossible?"
"I don't know." She looks genuinely torn. "What about you? Is moving back really that impossible for you?"
The question hits like a punch to the gut, and my instinct is to immediately say yes. To shut down the conversation before the panic can take hold. But then I look past Sierra to where Ruby is examining something on the ground, her little face scrunched in concentration, and the words that come out aren't the ones I expected.
"I don't know," I admit quietly.
Sierra's eyes widen slightly. "You don't know?"
"I mean—" I run a hand through my hair, struggling to articulate what I'm feeling. "Everything in me is screaming no. The thought of going back, of driving past those buildings every day, of seeing the memorials, it makes me feel like I can't breathe."
"Then—"
"But," I continue, cutting her off gently, "I also never thought I'd have a daughter. Never thought I'd meet someone who'd make me reconsider everything I thought I knew about what I could and couldn't handle." I look at Ruby, then back at Sierra. "So maybe... maybe I could consider it. Eventually. I'm not saying yes, and I'm not ready to make any promises. But I'm not saying it's completely impossible either."
Sierra's expression shifts through several emotions—surprise, hope, something that might be relief. "Really? You'd actually consider moving back?"
"For Ruby?" I swallow hard. "Yeah. I think I'd have to at least consider it. I can't ask you to uproot your entire life if I'm not willing to face my past. That's not fair, and it's not—" I pause,searching for the right words. "It's not the kind of father I want to be. The kind who asks everyone else to make sacrifices while I hide from hard things."
"Cade, I don't want you to torture yourself—"
"I know. And I'm not saying I can do it right now. I'd need time. Probably therapy. More therapy," I correct with a slight grimace. "I'd need to talk to Dallas, to the crew. Figure out if I'm even strong enough to try." I meet her eyes. "But I'm willing to think about it. To really think about it, not just dismiss it out of hand."
Sierra's eyes are bright with tears she's trying to hold back. "That's more than I expected. More than I had any right to ask for."
"You're not asking. I'm offering." I glance at Ruby again, making sure she's still occupied. "Look, I don't know if I can do it. The thought terrifies me. But losing seven more years with Ruby because I'm too afraid to face my demons? That terrifies me more."
"We could take it slow," Sierra says, like she's afraid of pushing too hard. "Maybe you could visit first. Just for a day, see how it feels. See if it's even possible before making any big decisions."
Visit. Go back to the town I fled eight years ago. Walk streets I used to know by heart, see familiar faces, face the ghosts I've been running from.
My chest tightens at the thought, but I force myself to nod. "Yeah. Maybe. That's… That could be a starting point."
"No pressure," Sierra adds quickly. "And if you can't, if it's too much, then we'll figure something else out. Maybe I could move here. Maybe we could find somewhere in between. Maybe—"
"Sierra." I stop her spiral of possibilities. "One step at a time, okay? Let's get through this weekend first. Let me spend timewith Ruby, figure out how to be her dad. Then we can tackle the geography problem."
She nods, relief visible in the loosening of her shoulders. "One step at a time."
"Mom! Dad!" Ruby's voice cuts through the moment. She's found a family of ducks at the edge of the lake and is crouched down watching them, utterly delighted. "Come look! There are babies!"
We walk over, the heavy conversation tabled for now. There are four tiny ducklings paddling after their mother, fluffy and yellow and impossibly small.
"They're perfect," Ruby breathes, her eyes wide with wonder.
I crouch down beside her, and Sierra does the same on her other side. The three of us watch the ducks in silence, and for a moment, it's peaceful. Perfect, even. Like we're a real family, not three people trying to figure out how to navigate an impossible situation.
"I wish we could take them home," Ruby sighs.
"They need to stay with their mom," Sierra says gently. "And we'd need a pond."
"Maybe we could get a pond." Ruby looks at me hopefully. "Do you have a pond?"
"No pond," I confirm. "Just a small apartment and a cat who would definitely try to eat the ducklings."
