Chapter 40 River
River
The elevator doors glide open, and Callie steps out with Nora asleep in her arms. Her tiny Railers jersey is bunched beneath her chin, one small cheek nestled against her mom’s shoulder.
Her inhalations are slow and steady, lashes fanned out across flushed skin.
She was out cold within five minutes of leaving the parking structure.
I follow a few steps behind, not saying a word.
Not yet, anyway.
Callie’s been silent since we left the arena. It’s not the I’m-exhausted kind of quiet, or the my-kid-just-fell-asleep-on-me kind. This silence feels heavier. Like she’s mentally grappling with something that she’s not ready to talk about.
A pit has taken up residence in my gut.
She doesn’t glance back as she moves down the hall, murmuring to Nora while carrying her into the room that’s becoming hers more and more every day. I hang back and watch as she goes through the familiar nighttime routine. Her hands are steady as she removes the jersey and swaps it for pajamas.
I get the feeling she’s holding herself together just long enough to get her daughter settled. And I hate that. Hate that she won’t tell me what’s going on in her head.
She hums quietly as she tucks the blanket under Nora’s chin and smooths her hair with aching tenderness.
I don’t think Callie realizes how truly strong she is.
And I don’t think I can stand here much longer without saying or doing something.
For years, this penthouse felt too big, too sterile, and much too silent. All that changed when they moved in. The quiet has been replaced by the sound of Nora’s footsteps and Callie’s laughter echoing off the walls.
It’s not just a place anymore.
It’s become a home.
Our home.
When she finally closes the bedroom door behind her, I force myself to say, “Hey.” I keep it soft. Careful. As if I’m tiptoeing through a minefield. “Is everything okay?”
Her gaze doesn’t meet mine as she asks a question of her own instead. “What happened in the locker room?”
Thrown off, I tense. “Zane and I had a few words.”
Her gaze locks on mine. “Did you hit him?”
The truth sticks to the roof of my mouth for a beat. “Yeah, I did.”
She nods once, like she was expecting the answer. “Why?”
There’s no way I’ll repeat the shit Zane said. I won’t let that poison touch her.
“I was irritated with how he acted during the game,” I say instead. It’s not a total lie, but it’s nowhere near the truth.
Disappointment flashes across her face, and I hate myself for not knowing what she needs from me in this moment.
“Zane reached out after the game, and we met. He wants another chance,” she admits quietly. “He wants Nora to have her family. He knows he screwed up and wants to make it right. All I have to do is say the word and he’ll break everything off with Gigi.”
Her voice cracks a little at the end, and that’s all it takes for me to eat up the distance between us. Two strides and I’m in front of her, cupping her face in my hands, desperate to remind her of everything we’re building together.
“Is that really what you want?” I ask, trying to keep the panic from flooding my system. “You want Zane back after everything he put you through?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I want to give Nora the best life I can.”
“You don’t need Zane to create a loving home for her. You’ve done that all on your own.”
Her eyes lift to mine. They’re glassy and just a bit lost. Like she’s standing in front of a door she’s terrified to open, afraid to find out what’s waiting for her on the other side.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admits.
My throat tightens. “I get it.”
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “You don’t. You’ve never had someone rip you apart and then come back saying all the right things. It messes with your head, River. It makes you question what’s real, what’s regret, and if you’re being manipulated.”
More than anything, I hate that Zane still has this kind of hold over her.
With her face cradled in my hands, I rest my forehead against hers.
“Then don’t choose for him,” I choke out. “Don’t even choose for Nora. Choose what you need and what makes you happy.”
“I don’t know what that is anymore.”
“If you give me a chance, I’ll help you figure it out,” I tell her. “All you have to do is trust me.”
She leans into me slowly, like someone testing the edge of something fragile but real.
It’s not a yes.
But it’s not a no either.
We stay like that for a long, quiet beat. Just soaking each other in and steadying ourselves in the stillness.
And for now, that’s enough.
It has to be.