Chapter 31 Punches and Promises
Punches and Promises
Coleman
The front door clicks shut behind us, and the sound echoes louder than usual in the house.
Too quiet.
“Shoes off,” I call out automatically, juggling backpacks and a few bags of school supplies while the girls race ahead, laughing about something that happened at orientation. I should be smiling. I should be soaking in this moment—watching my daughters act like kids again.
But something’s off.
I feel it in my gut.
The kind of instinct you can’t shake.
“Remi?” I call as I walk into the kitchen. Her favorite sweatshirt is missing from the back of the chair.
I move faster now.
Not in a panic.
Not yet.
But something… something isn’t right.
“Maybe she’s in her room,” Paige says, climbing up on the barstool. “She said she’d be here when we got home.”
Payton doesn’t say anything. She just slides her sketchpad onto the counter and flips it open, like she’s trying to pretend she isn’t watching me.
I nod, trying to keep my voice even. “Yeah. Maybe.”
But when I round the corner and push open her bedroom door, the air punches out of my lungs.
Gone.
She’s gone.
Her clothes. Her shoes. Her bag. Her scent lingers like a ghost, soft and painful.
I run to my room. Hoping she moved her stuff into my room.
But what breaks me—what really fucks me up—is the single piece of folded paper sitting in the middle of my bed. Not hers. Mine.
I cross the room, my steps slow, like I already know this is going to be bad.
Worse than bad.
I recognize her handwriting the second I pick it up. My name, written in that looping, careful scrawl she uses when she's trying not to feel something too big.
My hands shake.
I unfold the paper.
And then my whole world drops out from under me.
Coleman,
I never meant for this to happen.
I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. With them. With us...
My eyes blur.
I have to stop reading. Just for a second. Just to breathe.
She left.
She fucking left.
And the worst part?
I can’t even be mad at her.
Because I know exactly where this is coming from. I saw it on her face for days—the quiet doubts, the hesitation. And I should’ve said more. I should’ve told her this was forever. That she wasn’t temporary.
She was the one.
Is the one.
God, I’m a fucking idiot.
“Dad?”
I turn around slowly.
Payton’s standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Her eyes dart to the paper in my hand.
“She left, didn’t she?” Her voice is so small. So knowing.
I can’t lie.
Not to her.
“She left a letter,” I say, my throat raw.
Paige appears beside her sister, and suddenly both of them are staring up at me, eyes wide and brimming with something between fear and heartbreak.
“I thought she said she wouldn’t go,” Paige whispers.
“She didn’t leave you,” I say quickly, moving toward them. “She didn’t. She just… needed space. But she’s not gone. Not really. She said she’ll still see you.”
Payton frowns. “But not you?”
And just like that, I feel my heart shatter all over again.
“No,” I say softly. “Not me.”
“Are you gonna go get her?” Paige asks, her voice hopeful, but hesitant. Like she doesn’t want to be let down again.
I kneel in front of them, my hands resting gently on their shoulders. “I’m gonna try. I don’t care what it takes. I’m gonna remind her who she is… and who we are.”
Payton’s eyes narrow like she’s studying me, deciding if I’m serious.
“You love her, don’t you?” she says.
I nod.
“Then go make her love you back.”
God, I hope I still have the chance.
I don’t knock like a sane man.
I pound on the goddamn door like I’m trying to rip it off the hinges.
I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care who sees. I don’t even care if her neighbors call the cops. She’s here. I know she’s here. And I need her to open this damn door before I lose my mind completely.
But it’s not Remi who answers.
It’s Matthew.
He fills the doorway with his arms crossed and a glare that hits me like a sucker punch.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not the biggest guy in the room.
“Where is she?” I demand.
Matthew doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. “Not here.”
“Bullshit.”
“You need to leave.”
I step forward, about to push my way in, but his hand slams against my chest. Hard.
“You really want to do that?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.
“I will do whatever it takes to talk to her.”
He shoves me.
I shove back.
Next thing I know, fists are flying.
We crash into the wall of the narrow hallway, trading punches like we both have something to prove. I don’t want to hurt him—I really don’t—but I’m seeing red, and he’s standing between me and the woman I love.
The woman who left me.
The woman who’s breaking my heart.
Matthew’s fist clips my jaw, and I stumble back a step. Blood tastes like copper in my mouth, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand, chest heaving.
“You think I don’t see it?” he spits. “She’s happy for the first time in years and now she’s here crying in her goddamn room again. What the hell did you do?”
“I don't fucking know! Everything was fine this morning. She fucking left me,” I bite out.
“You should ask your fucking ex.” Matthew seethes and all the air gets sucked out of my lungs. I can only imagine the bullshit Stella spewed to her. Probably hitting on all the vulnerable spots she has. Stella was always fucking good at that.
Silence drops like a weight between us.
Matthew’s eyes narrow. “So what the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m here,” I say, stepping forward, voice raw, “because I love her.”
The words burst out of me like a scream I’ve been holding in for weeks.
“I fucking love her. And I didn’t say it when I should have. I didn’t fight hard enough when I saw the fear in her eyes. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until she hears me say it to her face.”
Matthew breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling. His lip is bleeding. So is mine.
Neither of us says anything for a long beat.
Then, finally, he drops his arm from the doorframe and steps aside.
“She’s in her room,” he mutters. “But if you hurt her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
I nod once and walk past him, every step feeling heavier than the last. My heart’s in my throat.
Now all that’s left… is her.