Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Rhodes
By the time I get Chloe bathed and into pajamas, I’m more than ready to sit on the couch with Finn, drink one of her cocktails and pass the fuck out to one of those boring ass documentaries.
But as I tuck my daughter in and read her a book I can recite by memory, I’m wondering about other things too.
Like little Holly and Cedar Hollow and…why Poppy looked pained at the mention of Storm.
And also, maybe why Holly has those unique gray eyes—a color like none I’ve never seen before.
Or, correction, I have seen it before.
Just…on one man’s face.
On Storm’s face.
And I have the feeling, the kid who I hung out with for a few hours, skating and shooting and fucking around on the ice with, is about to be thrown a major curve ball.
Or take a puck to the nuts.
I close the book and glance down at my daughter.
Her eyes are nearly closed, her body limp against mine. “One more, Daddy?” she cajoles sleepily.
I chuckle and press my lips to her forehead. “Bedtime, pumpkin.”
Her nose wrinkles, but she’s so tired from the fun of the day that she doesn’t protest, just burrows into her blankets. I tuck her favorite stuffed rabbit under her arm, fix her blankets, then wait for Olive and Pear to get situated before I give them their scratches.
By the time that’s done, Chloe is done for, the kittens are purring, and my exhaustion has peaked. I reach over to turn on her nightlight.
“I love Finn,” she says sleepily.
I freeze.
And I almost say, Me too. God help me, I almost do.
Instead, I swallow, brush her hair back. “You do?”
A sigh, her eyes slipping closed. “Holly says sometimes grownups leave and don’t come back.”
My heart stutters, an acute pain slicing through my insides.
“Chloe, baby—”
“I told her I know that.” She rolls onto her side and one tear slips down her cheek. “But I’m still going to be sad when Finn leaves,” she whispers. “Especially if it’s forever.”
I open my mouth, try to figure out what to say.
Only…what can I say?
Because this isn’t some distant, nameless fear, not the monster under the bed or the predator waiting to pounce.
This is reality, the reality that’s been nipping at my heels the last few days.
And it’s grief. It’s the kind of hurt no young child should know.
But Chloe knows it far too well.
And…
Fuck.
The longer I let this go on, the deeper Finn sews herself into our lives…the harder it’s going to be.
I was kidding myself to pretend differently, to think this might have another ending.
Maybe I could endure losing Finn.
But Chloe having to do the same?
I can’t—
Fuck, but I can’t do that to her.
Can’t let my daughter tie herself to someone who has one foot out the door, who may leave and never come back.
And I…
Fuck, but I can’t let myself cling to it either.
“Get some sleep, pumpkin,” I say roughly, because it’s the best I can manage. Because I can’t confide in my four-year-old that I’ve just realized in order to protect her I’m going to have to break both of our hearts.
“Okay, Daddy,” she whispers.
I wipe away her tears, bend to lightly press my lips to her forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”
“‘Night.”
I stroke her hair until her eyes slide closed. Then I turn on her nightlight, pick my way to the door. My hands spasm as I reach for the switch, as I flick off the overhead lights.
Pink fills the space.
Bright and sparkly and Chloe.
Reminding me what I’m trying to protect.
I stand in the open doorway for a long time, listening to my daughter’s steady breathing, trying to reassure myself I’m doing the right thing…knowing that there’s no other possible way.
No other outcome.
Sighing, my eyes burning, I pull the door mostly shut, leaving the normal inch for the kittens to roam.
Then I go into my bedroom.
Finn’s in every part of it—her travel planner on the nightstand, a bottle of lotion on the dresser, her clothes in the closet, her shampoo in the shower, her makeup on the counter, one of her blankets spread out on the foot of the bed.
A part of my life.
But for how long?
I grind my teeth together, fist my hands at my sides.
Because I know what I have to do.
And I hate it.
And it will be painful. No. Agonizing.
I’m ruining the best thing that’s happened to Chloe and me in years.
But not doing it would be worse, would be more dangerous because it’s a ticking time bomb I can’t afford to not defuse.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Not doing it means watching Chloe skip right toward heartbreak while pretending I can’t see it coming.
So in my quiet bedroom, with the woman I love all around me…
I make a choice.
This has to end.
Before it goes any further.
Before she leaves.
Before the loss gets bigger.
Even if, as I force myself to walk downstairs, I know one thing with terrible certainty—
This is going to destroy her.
And me.