Chapter Fifty Four
Break Me
“ U h… hi.” Click .
“I don’t even know why I’m calling. Some uptight social worker showed up a week ago, all fire and fight and freckles.
Told me Marlee’s dead. That she left her daughter—her daughter—to me.
I didn’t ask for this. Didn’t sign up for this.
And I wish you were here to tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.
But you’re not. You’re not because you’re dead.
And that’s my fault, isn’t it? It’s all my—fuck. ”
Click .
“I met her. The baby. Aurora. She’s... God, she’s beautiful.
Big brown eyes. Sweet little curls. She looked up at me like I was someone she could trust. Like I mattered.
And Georgia? The social worker? She was there too.
Smiling at me like she thought I could actually do this.
Her smile... it made me forget, for a second, that I’m not a good man.
And her laugh? Her laugh could heal a man.
But… I don’t deserve to be healed. Not yet. Maybe never.”
Click .
“I can’t do this. I can’t. I’m not built for this kind of responsibility. Aurora deserves someone better. Someone who knows what the hell they're doing. I can barely function, Dad. What kind of man thinks he can raise someone else’s kid when he can’t even fix himself?”
Click .
“Fuck, Dad. I can’t stop thinking about Georgia.
She got reassigned. Haven’t seen her in a week and.
.. I miss her. I miss the way she argued with me.
It’s stupid. She’s everything I shouldn’t want.
A city girl who’ll leave. Someone just passing through on her way to bigger shit.
I can’t do that again, but I miss her. And I hate that I do. I hate her. I… fuck. I’m a liar.”
Click .
“Found her on the ground at Wildwood Market today. Thought she was hurt. Turns out she has celiac. Couldn’t even stand.
And there I was, ready to burn the place down.
Of course it’s the city girl with a gluten allergy who gets stuck in my head when no other woman has held my attention for over a fuckin’ decade.
But you should see her, Dad. She’s got this perfect red hair that’s all wild curls and a smile that makes my heart twist. But her freckles…
they’re like little starbursts of distraction.
She’s dangerous. I’m fucked, aren’t I? Christ.”
Click .
“Aurora is mine. Not officially. Have to apply for adoption, but she’s here in my house. And Georgia? I think she might be mine, too.”
Click .
“Georgia and I were harvesting honey today. She got stung and still didn’t complain.
Just smiled. And a while ago, when I was checking her sting, she told Aurora bees only sting when they’re scared…
like she really gives a damn about all this—the farm, Aurora, me.
She’s teaching me patience, Dad. She’s teaching me how to be more than I am.
Think you’d love her. Think I might, too. ”
Click .
“Caught her listening to Fleetwood Mac. One of yours and Mom’s songs. My heart stopped. Then she smiled, and I smiled back. It was…. It was nice. Good. She’s so damn good, Pops.”
Click .
“I took her to see the stars, Dad. Spread a blanket, laid under the sky, made love to her with the whole damn universe watching. And I fell. I fell so hard, I’ll never recover. She’s my one. My forever.”
Click .
“There was a fire. Lost a lot of equipment. And the fence got cut again. I don’t know who’s fucking with us, but I swear, I’ll protect the farm. I’ll protect our land. Our family. I’ll do right by you. I, uh… I won’t let you down, Dad.”
Click .
“Aurora tried to walk today. Just let go of the couch and took a step like she trusted the world to catch her. Like she trusted me. I don’t deserve that trust, Dad. But I want to earn it. I want to be someone she can count on.”
Click .
“I’m sorry. For not coming home sooner. For letting my anger keep me away.
I blamed myself for your death, but I think you just..
. missed me. And I missed you too. I miss you every damn day.
But I’m letting go of the guilt. I have to.
I can’t be a good dad to Aurora if I’m still stuck in the past. I love you, and I forgive myself. Finally.”
Click .
“She kissed me after we picked wildflowers together. Said the smell reminded her of belonging. That was the first time I realized she saw this place as home. And maybe... maybe that means I’m doing something right.”
Click .
“She left, Dad. Georgia left. And it broke me. I fucked it all up. I love her so goddamn much, and she left. Aurora keeps looking around for her, calling out for Mama. And I... I feel like I’m missing the other half of my soul.
Is this how Mom feels without you? Because if it is, if it’s even an ounce of what I’m feeling right now.
.. then come back, Pops. Defy reality. Come back for her, because I can’t breathe . ”
Click .
“I will never stop loving Georgia. I’ll wait for her until she’s ready to let me love her the way she deserves. Because Dad, she deserves it all. And I’m gonna find a way to give it to her. I promise. I won’t let you down. I’ll do right by her. Love you, Pops. Miss you.”
Click .
I don’t know how long I sit there. I don’t know how many times I replay them. His voice, rough and ragged, laughing sometimes, breaking others. Whispering my name like a prayer.
Like a plea.
The sheer emotion in his words shatters something deep inside me I didn’t think was left to break.
And when the last voicemail ends, the one where he promises to love me until I’m ready, I collapse forward with a sob so violent it rips out of my chest and echoes through the empty house.
God, what have I done?
I ran.
I let fear win.
I let the past take something that belonged to my future. And for what? A letter written in grief? A ghost who no longer exists? The ugly words of a woman who broke him once upon a time?
Kade isn’t just some man I slept with. He’s not just the guardian of a little girl I was assigned to.
He’s the man who cleared out every inch of gluten in his house without ever being asked. Who learned how to do my hair from YouTube tutorials because I was too sick to move. Who held me like I was precious, and called me freckles like it meant something. Because to him, it did.
I did.
Do I still?
And Aurora...
Aurora is mine.
She was mine the moment she reached for me, the moment she smiled when I sang. When she wrapped her little arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder with so much trust, it rewrote some of the ugly memories I try to forget.
I belong with them.
I’ve spent my whole life wishing. On stars. On eyelashes. On birthday candles and dandelions and every silly, impossible thing that carried even a sliver of hope.
But maybe it’s time I stop wishing.
Maybe it’s time I fight.
For Kade. For Aurora. For the family I’ve always dreamed of and the future I was too scared to believe I could have.
I wipe my tears, set the phone down gently beside me, and press a hand to my heart. It’s still beating, fragile, bruised, but steady.
I love them.
I love them both.
And it’s time I go home.