Chapter 14 Emmie
EMMIE
Something feels off. I check my phone for the twentieth time today, and still no response from Creed. It's been over twenty-four hours since I sent my good morning text, and the silence is deafening.
Yesterday, I brushed it off. Maybe he had a busy day at the garage. Maybe the boys needed extra attention. Maybe his phone died. I came up with a dozen excuses, each one sounding less convincing than the last.
But now? Now I'm worried.
“Mom, why do you keep checking your phone?” Rowan looks up from his cereal, milk dripping from his spoon.
“Just waiting on a work message, bud.” The lie slips out easily, and I hate myself a little for it. I don't want Rowan getting attached to the idea of Creed and his boys until I know what we're doing is real.
I decide when I get Rowan dropped off at school, I’m going over to the Creed’s shop. I have to know that he’s ok. I’m sure Chuck can give me any big life updates, if I need to ask.
Rowan’s Christmas countdown has begun, and he knows his teacher has lots of fun activities planned in these last few days of school. Thankfully, he’s so preoccupied with excitement that he doesn’t realize I’m feeling off.
“See you after school, bud!”
I pull into Chuck's Repair, my heart in my throat. It's not like me to chase after a man, but something about that snowball fight, the way Creed looked at me when he said Bart approved—it felt real.
The garage doors are open, and Chuck is bent over the engine of an old pickup. No sign of Creed.
“Morning, Chuck,” I call out, trying to sound casual.
Chuck looks up, surprise registering on his oil-smudged face. “Well, if it isn't the lovely Emmie! What brings you by?”
“Just wondering if Creed's around.” I fidget with my keys, suddenly feeling foolish.
Chuck wipes his hands on a rag. “He's out back. Fair warning though— he's in one of his moods.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” I make my way through the garage toward the back. As I get into the back area, I scan for Creed. I find him working on an older car, his expression stormy.
“Hey stranger,” I call out, trying to keep my tone light despite the knot in my stomach.
His head snaps up, eyes widening when he sees me. “Emmie. What are you doing here?”
“Checking if you're still alive,” I attempt a smile. “Figured your phone must have fallen into an engine or something.”
Creed stands up, avoiding my eyes. “Sorry. Been busy.”
“Too busy for a quick text?” I step closer, studying his face. The dark circles under his eyes tell me he hasn't been sleeping. “What's going on, Creed?”
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I'm beginning to recognize as a sign of his frustration.
“I can't do this, Emmie.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “Can't do what, exactly?”
“This. Us.” He gestures between us, still not meeting my eyes. “I thought I could, but I can't.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling cold. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” His voice softens slightly. “It's not you. The boys' mom called. She's moving out of state, only seeing them a couple times a year now.”
“And that means you and I can't…” I trail off, trying to understand the connection.
“The boys need stability. They need me focused completely on them.” He finally looks at me, his eyes pained. “I can't split my attention. I can't risk them getting attached to you and Rowan, then having it all fall apart. They've been through enough.”
“So, you're just going to push me away without even talking about it?” I feel a flash of anger cutting through my hurt. “That's not fair to me, and it's not fair to you either.”
“Life isn't fair,” he says, his voice flat. “My boys come first.”
“I would never ask them not to.” I take a step closer, refusing to let him hide behind this wall he's building. “But you're acting like this is an either-or situation. Like you can't be both a good father and have something for yourself.”
He scoffs. “You don't understand—”
“No, you don't understand,” I interrupt, my voice stronger now. “I've been a single parent for four years. I know exactly what it's like to put your child first. I’ve been doing it for years.”
Creed's jaw tightens. “It's different.”
“How?” I challenge. “How is it different? Because your ex is moving away? Because you have two kids instead of one?”
“Because I've already failed them once!” The words burst out of him, echoing in the large room.
I soften my stance, seeing the pain behind his anger. “Creed, that's not—”
“You don't know that,” he cuts me off. “You weren't there. I don't know how to be both a good father and a good... whatever I could be to you. I don't have it in me to split myself that way.”
“Did you ever think that maybe being happy would make you a better father?” I step closer, close enough to touch him. “If you shut yourself off from connection, from joy, what are you teaching them? That love is too risky? That you should never open yourself up after you've been hurt?”
“It's not that simple,” he says, but his voice lacks conviction.
“No, it's not simple at all,” I agree. “Nothing about parenting is. But pushing people away without even trying? That's the coward's way out.”
His eyes flash. “I'm trying to protect them.”
“Are you sure it's not yourself you're trying to protect?” I ask softly.
Creed stares at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I think he might reach for me, but he takes a step back.
“I'm sorry, Emmie. I've made up my mind.”
The finality in his voice makes my chest ache. I blink back tears, refusing to let him see how much he's hurting me.
“Fine,” I say, my voice surprising me by how steady it sounds. “But you’ll realize you’re making a mistake.”
I turn and walk away, my head held high despite the trembling in my legs. I make it all the way to my car before the first tear falls.