Chapter 20 #2
The memory of that night hangs between us. The way she'd looked at me that night, how easy it had been to cross a line I never even considered was in danger of being crossed.
"How's Melissa doing?" Janie asks, drawing her knees to her chest. "Any progress?"
I shift my focus to safer ground. "The eviction was stayed. Landlord's under investigation now. It turns out Melissa wasn't his only victim. He's been systematically targeting renters, banking on them not having resources to fight back, and keeping their deposits after evicting them."
"Thank God you were able and willing to help her." Janie exhales, her breath visible in the cool night air. "You're good at what you do."
I shake my head. "You were the one who calmed her down, made her feel like she mattered. I can't imagine being a single mom in this world, trying to navigate all of this."
The praise makes her eyes shine, reflecting the flames. She looks away quickly.
The silence after is louder than anything either of us has said.
“Warren—”
“No, I—” I drag a hand across my jaw. “I should have been there. You shouldn’t have had to do it alone.”
“You didn’t know. I was young, I did what I thought was right. I know you would have been there.”
Inside, Beckett topples a tower of blocks and bursts into laughter.
“He looks like you when he laughs,” Janie whispers.
The firelight softens everything—her words, our edges. For a breath, it’s almost safe here, like we’ve stepped outside of time.
“I’m still so angry with you,” I admit, my voice hoarse. “But watching him tonight… I can’t stop thinking about the sacrifices you made. I’m grateful.”
The words land between us, grace tangled with fury. Her eyes shine as she nods once, swallowing hard. Her fingers twist together in her lap. It's the same nervous habit she had in high school.
“I don’t know if I can ever stop being angry about the time I lost.”
The admission cuts sharply, but she doesn’t flinch. She holds my gaze, face open in the flickering light.
“I can understand that. I made the wrong choice, Warren. I hope you believe me when I tell you I’m sincerely sorry.” Her voice softens to a whisper. “I wish I could go back and do things differently, but I can’t.”
Silence stretches, heavy but different. For once, I don’t need to fill it with rage. Something in me loosens, like a rope finally giving slack.
She’s flawed. Human. She did the best she could with the cards she had. I've thought about this, and honestly, I don't know what I would have done if she had told me at the time. I shudder to think that I might have suggested an option that I don't even want to consider now.
All of that, though, doesn’t erase the loss or the betrayal. But it makes it easier to understand.
The fire crackles, a log collapsing inward with a shower of sparks. Like us, it's breaking apart, reshaping into something new.
I open my mouth, not sure what will come out—
"Warren! Come see, I finished my tower." Beckett's excited cheer cuts through our moment, his small face pressed against the sliding glass door, breath fogging the pane.
I nudge the door open, following my son's excited voice.
"Coming, bud."
I step into the family room where Beckett stands proudly next to what appears to be an elaborate stadium. Dozens of blocks are arranged in neat tiers, forming a bowl-shaped arena with a green napkin as the playing field.
I crouch beside him, my knees cracking in protest. "This is incredible, Becks."
"It's a soccer stadium." He points to a row of toy dinosaurs arranged along one side. "These guys are the fans. And look—" He places a small action figure in the center. "That's me scoring the winning goal!"
I nod gravely, as though I'm inspecting an architectural masterpiece rather than a barely recognizable replica. "You've done a great job."
He beams at the unfamiliar words, pride radiating from his small face. Behind me, I hear Janie's soft footsteps.
For one fleeting second, I’m whole. My son is beside me, vibrating with joy. Janie behind me, her breathing a steady rhythm like it was weeks ago, before everything shattered.
This could be mine. This could be us. If it weren't for all the shit that got us into this situation, the lies, the years lost.
The thought hits so hard I have to stand, my chest too tight to breathe.
“I should get going.” My voice comes out rough.
Beckett’s face crumples. “But I thought we were going to practice kicks again!”
“Another time, buddy. Now it’s bedtime. I promise we will do it again soon.” I ruffle his hair, marveling at the softness.
He studies me, then nods solemnly. “Pinky swear?”
I hook his small finger with mine. “Pinky swear.”
Janie walks me to the door, arms crossed, holding herself like armor. The foyer is warm, lived-in. A row of shoes by the mat, Beckett’s jacket half-zipped on the hook.
At the door, she hesitates and bites her lip. “You could stay,” she blurts. “Maybe a movie? Beckett loves those dinosaur documentaries.”
Hunger rips through me. My gaze lingers on the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, the small scar above her eyebrow. My hand almost lifts before I force it down.
God, I want to.
But I shake my head. “No. Thanks for dinner. I enjoyed tonight.”
I step into the night, the cool air sharp against my heated skin.
“Goodnight, Warren.”
“Goodnight, Janie.”
The door clicks shut. Beckett’s laughter carries through the walls, and I stand frozen on the porch.
It’s never been harder to walk away.