Fallon
Chapter twenty-seven
Caverns
Darkness swallows us as we descend the steps leading into the caverns, one hundred and twenty feet beneath the surface. I give all of my attention to the small yellow globes that light the way deep into the passages. Refusing to give my attention to him.
Cyrus is a struggle I’m not fully prepared to battle today; it takes every bit of focus to acknowledge anything, anyone, except the man near me, the big oaf that’s currently wreaking havoc on my body, and occupying every square inch of my mind.
I did this to myself. There’s no escaping this scenario- that annoyingly delicious male scent, those fucking ripped arms, thick thighs. I am freaking burned toast.
The kids buzz with excitement as they stand on the platform, fingers laced together, their dirty-blonde hair glowing beneath the dim cavern lights. The same wide-eyed wonder spreads across both their faces as they stare out at the massive cave stretching around us.
Cyrus smiles down at them, asking.
“Pretty neat, isn’t it?” Billy agrees, while Liam responds with a question, the first of what I’m sure will be many.
“Dad, what’s that?” He’s pointing to a large icicle formation hanging from the ceiling of the cave. The lights were strategically placed throughout to highlight the best groups of formations.
“That is called a stalactite. The ones growing from the floor are called stalagmites. Cool, right?”
“Wicked.” The echoes of Cyrus’s clapping the kids’ hands carry throughout the caverns. Both kids pause, fascinated by the echo.
“Wanna get a closer look at some of the others?”
“We want all of them.” Billy’s full of wonder from the sparkles illuminating around her. Guilt plagues me; I never thought to bring her here. I’m happy they get to share this moment. I’m definitely not telling him that the last time I was here was with him.
Cyrus takes her and Liam’s hands, guiding them down the steps.
For the next hour, he reads off every plaque, and they soak it up like little sponges. His narrative entrances them both. Cyrus isn’t reading the information; he’s performing it, captivating them. Others walking by, smile at the scene. My heart clenches again—this time with longing.
He is so good with them. Neither child is overshadowed by the other; he gives both his undivided attention. There is something sexy about a man who can lead his family. My stomach drops as I quietly acknowledge that though he is their father, we aren’t family.
I’ve watched over the last few weeks as he fingerpaints with them, gets on the floor, and lets Billy paint his toes and add sprinkles to pancakes.
He and Liam have now ordered matching white-and-black print pajamas to ours.
They wear them over for movie nights. It’s so much, too much, too soon.
I’m not entirely sure how to handle it. For so long, it’s been me and Billy.
Now we have two more with us, I don’t feel jealous.
It’s longing for what we should have had.
Something I can’t fathom ever giving hope to.
No, it’s harder every day to keep my distance from Cyrus.
I would be dense if I hadn’t noticed the subtle hints; the light touches he places on the hollow of my back, shared jokes, his lazy grins that make me melt.
He’s interested. The hang-up is me. I can’t go through that kind of pain again; losing him obliterated my heart.
It left me in a difficult situation. I can’t allow my daughter to go through that.
Even now, the past coming back to me makes me want to curl up on the couch under a blanket and eat my weight in chocolate.
No, it’s good that he’s here with the kids, but we need to stay friends.
Being friends with Cyrus is like standing in the path of a raging inferno, while holding myself back enough to sell the illusion of safety. Not realizing I’m already burning.
I tell myself it’s about Billy. And it is—mostly.
She is my anchor, my constant, the one thing in my life that never left me standing alone on a porch with my heart split open.
Every choice I make is for her. Always her.
I don’t get to be reckless anymore. I don’t want things because they feel good.
Cyrus feels good.
That’s the problem.
I remember the last time I built my future around him — believed his promises, pictured a life that included his laugh, his hands, his plans.
I know how quickly that kind of dreaming can turn dangerous.
How quickly it can disappear without warning, without explanation, leaving me to pick up the pieces with a baby in my arms and no room to fall apart.
I made it through losing him once. It nearly broke me. Enduring that kind of pain alongside my child would finish the job this time.
So I draw the line in the sand, safe from his touch.
Friends, mean I get to keep the version of Cyrus who shows up—the man who checks on Billy, who fixes things without being asked, who looks at me as someone steady instead of something temporary.
Friends mean I don’t have to trust him with my heart.
I don’t have to wonder if one day he’ll decide I’m too much again. Or worse—not enough.
Distance is safer.
Distance keeps my feet on solid ground instead of leaning into hope; distance won’t betray me. It allows consistency for Billy, rather than watching me unravel when things go wrong. She’s already had enough of that from my family. I won’t teach her that love means leaving when times get tough.
And if I’m honest—truly honest—there’s another truth I don’t say.
If I let Cyrus get too close, I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting everything. From believing in forever.
Friendship is a boundary I can function inside of.
Love would wreck me.
So I stay right here—close enough to remember what we were, far enough to protect what I’ve built. For Billy. For myself.
Even if the distance eats away at me piece by piece.
Cyrus glances back at me, his smile slipping when he notices the look of devastation I wear. Because not having him is devastating.