Chapter 13 Morgan #2
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. No one had ever asked me that. Not in the army. Not after. It had always been about endurance. About pushing through.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“That’s okay,” she said. “There are supports for this stage. Trauma-informed employment schemes. Gradual return-to-work programs. Training courses designed around capacity, not performance. College bursaries. Schemes that bundle education with supported housing, childcare options, and stipends that don’t vanish.
There are ways back into learning that don’t assume you have a safety net waiting at home.
You don’t have to jump back into the world at full speed. ”
“What if I want to fix everything, but I can’t?
” The words spilled out before I could organize them.
“We can’t stay here forever. We have to go somewhere eventually.
And Gabbi’s grandparents are offering an apartment, money, all this help—and I’m here, taking what Guardian Hall is giving me, taking space, taking time.
” I dragged in a breath. “I’m letting everything be handed to me and not giving anything back, and it’s selfish.
Like I’m cheating somehow, and I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. ”
She sat back in her chair and gave me a soft smile. “Guardian Hall is a bridge, Morgan. No one lives on a bridge forever—but you also don’t run across it with your eyes closed. You needed time to establish a base, a quiet place where the rest of your life will grow. It’s not selfish to be here.”
“I want to believe that.”
“I know.”
I stared at my hands. “Can I ask you a question that isn’t related to… y’know… something personal, I mean?”
“You can ask anything,” she said.
“I want to be the best dad for Gabbi.” I made myself sit up straighter and hold on to the words instead of letting them sink me.
“I think—I know—I’m a good dad. When she cries, she knows I’ll fix it.
Or at least try. And when she’s sleeping, I just…
watch her. I think about everything I want to give her.
Safety.” I paused, steadying myself. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of. Out of everything.”
I stopped, breath uneven, as I’d said too much and not nearly enough. That was supposed to lead up to me asking about relationships, but it had fizzled out, and Elena called me on it.
“That’s not really a question, Morgan,” she said gently. “It’s a statement. About the person you already are—and who you’re determined to be as her father.”
“The question…” I can do this. How hard can this be? “It’s about Cole.” We’d spoken about him in these sessions before; she knew we were together, but she didn’t know the awful thoughts that spiraled in my head.
“Go on.”
“He takes me and Gabbi out—on dates—really thoughtful ones, like a new park that she’d love to swing in, or yesterday he actually got on a slide and had her on his lap, and he got caught halfway down and I couldn’t stop laughing, and Gabbi was so happy, and he promises her things, like he’ll be there for when she starts dating, but she’s not allowed to do that until she’s thirty.
” I huffed a laugh. “That’s such a dad thing to say. ”
“It is.”
“And I’m not here to ask about whether his acting like that is a good thing, okay? It’s better than just good. Gabbi needs all the people in her life that she can. Safety. Someone who I know would look out for her if I weren’t here. She has her grandparents, and now Cole.”
Again, I stopped, and Elena gestured between us. “That’s still not a question.”
Fuck this. Just say it. “What if he just wants her—a ready-made family—because he says he’s falling for me and he says he wants to take care of us and he does all the right things and shows up and means it, but somehow it never becomes just me and him, and yeah I know I’m a little broken and I come with baggage and fears, but I’m still worth being someone’s focus too, aren’t I?
” I took a moment to catch my breath after that outburst.
Elena took a moment before answering, and in that silence I realized my face was wet.
I swiped at my cheek, annoyed with myself when my fingers came away damp.
I hated crying—hated how exposed it made me feel, how it stripped away the control I worked so hard to keep.
God, I was a mess. No wonder Cole was holding back, careful with his hands and his words, as if he was afraid of touching something already cracked.
“Okay, Morgan. Here’s what you need to do.”
When I left the session, the place was quiet in that late-afternoon way, sunlight slanting through the windows, dust motes drifting as though they had nowhere else to be.
I collected Gabbi from Marcus, who had her in the medical room while he audited supplies.
She’d been good, he said, but my head was full of too much of everything, so with a nod and a thank you, I took her and headed into the kitchen for her bottle.
Cole was in there—of course he was. He always seemed to appear when I least felt ready to be seen—sleeves rolled up, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand. He glanced up when I entered the room, and his expression was happy as he made grabby hands for Gabbi.
See? He doesn’t want me. He just wants to see Gabbi.
I bypassed him and went straight to the sterilizer, and he didn’t ask why; he just circled us from behind and pressed a kiss to the back of my neck.
“How was it?” he asked.
I wriggled out of his hold and stepped away, focused on getting the bottle ready and ignoring his presence.
A couple of the others came in, and I recognized Alex’s laughter as Marcus chatted about the play equipment that had arrived as soon as the snow thawed, courtesy of Cole, of course.
Cole joined in, and I was stuck, listening to people who had their act together, people who had a purpose in life, and there was I, and I was…
… lost.
“I wanted to get Gabbi from Marcus,” Cole said, and I was suddenly aware he’d been talking to me. “But he got all territorial!” He said that last with a fake pout.
I needed to tell him what I’d rehearsed with Elena, but I’d expected more time before I needed to. I didn’t expect him to pull the cute smiling card.
I grabbed the bottle and left the kitchen, shoving past him at the end of the counter, and I think he tried to catch my arm. I know he was talking to me, and I didn’t want that. I couldn’t even begin to explain what was in my head.
“I need space!” I snapped, the words coming out too loud, too sharp.
“Are you okay, Morgan?” Alex was there, right at my side, Marcus hovering, Cole confused.
“I need to go,” I shouted at them all, shook my head, anger flaring hot and misplaced.
“I can’t keep doing this—standing here while you all look at me like I belong here.
I don’t.” My voice broke on the last word, and I headed straight to my room and slammed the door, startling Gabbi, who was far from happy with her daddy holding her too tight.
The knock came less than a few moments later.
“Morgan?” It wasn’t Cole. It was Alex. “Can I come in?”
He waited for an answer, and I could tell him no, but fuck, I owed him an apology.
I opened the door enough for him to slip through, and he pushed it almost shut behind him with his heel.
He took in the room in one glance—me standing there with Gabbi clutched to my chest, her bottle forgotten on the dresser, my breathing still too fast.
“Can I help?” he asked.
I deflated, the fight draining from me so fast it made me lightheaded.
“I’m being stupid,” I said. The words came out flat, exhausted.
“I know I am.” I shifted Gabbi, easing my grip when she squirmed.
“I want Cole to see me, and not just me and Gabbi, and I spoke to Elena, and I had all these pretty words to say to Cole, and then you were all there, and it was too much. I feel wrong. Like I’m stuck.
Like if I don’t move on now, I never will, and Elena says that’s okay, that I’m on a bridge, but it’s a stupid bridge, and I want to get over it.
” I took a breath as despair hit hard. “But I don’t even know what moving on is supposed to look like. ”
Alex leaned back on the door, arms folded. He didn’t tell me I was overreacting. He just nodded once.
“That actually sounds healthy,” he said.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Feeling like you want something for yourself and more than survival.” His voice was steady, certain. “That’s a good thing, Morgan. It means you’re not just coping anymore.” He came a little closer, careful not to crowd me. “And you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Or alone.”
I let out a shaky breath. Gabbi sighed against me, warm and solid, her head tucked under my chin.
“Okay,” Alex said gently. “Here’s what we do.
Come find me tomorrow, and we’ll talk. Not about forever—just about options.
Places that make sense for you right now.
People who can help. Courses, schemes, support that fits where you are now, not where you think you should be.
” He met my eyes. “We’ll figure it out. Step-by-step. ”
“That’s what Elena said.”
“She’s right.”
Something in my chest loosened at that. Not fixed. Not solved. Just… less tight. “Okay,” I echoed, quieter this time.
Alex gave a small smile. “Do you want to see Cole?”
“He’s still here?”
“Yep.”
I sighed. “I didn’t mean to lose control.”
“He knows.”
I was frustrated at how easily Alex told me that. “He shouldn’t have to know, he shouldn’t be walking on eggshells, I should be more! I should be better!”
“How about I feed Gabbi, and you and Cole talk in the family space? It’s empty for an hour or two. You feel up to that?”
I nodded, and Alex stepped closer and held out his hands to Gabbi, who went willingly, smiling at Alex. He gestured for the bottle, and I passed that to him as well.
When the door opened, Cole was right outside, hands in his pockets, looking concerned. Our eyes met, and he seemed hopeful.
“Alex said we should talk in the family room.”
He looked stricken. “Sure.”
We headed down there, got today’s new code from Marcus, and were in the family space with the door locked, just the two of us.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t have gotten into your personal space like that and—”
I grabbed him and kissed him, urging him back to the wall with a thump.
The impact jolted us both. A breath was knocked from his lungs and swallowed by my mouth.
I kissed him like I needed proof that he wanted me.
His hands came up, warm and sure at my sides, not pinning me, just holding me there, giving me something solid to push against. I bit his lower lip too hard, and he made a low sound that went straight through me, answering without taking over, meeting my mess with heat and patience until the room narrowed to breath and pressure and the fact he was still here.
“No, Cole, I’m sorry,” I whispered when I stepped back, the words scraped raw. He didn’t let go. Instead, his hand fisted in my shirt, and he pulled me back in a way that made my knees go weak. He tucked me under his neck, his chin resting on my hair, his breath warm at my temple.
“Talk to me,” he murmured, low and steady. Not reproach. Not distance. Just there.
I sagged, the fight draining out of me, my forehead pressed to his collarbone as I finally let myself breathe. His arm came around my back, solid and sure, holding me like I wasn’t fragile.
For a long moment, he just held me, rocking us slightly, grounding me without saying a word. And for the first time since the restlessness had started, my head went quiet enough that I could feel it: his heartbeat, steady and real, right under my ear.
“What do you see for us?” I whispered, the question terrifying in its honesty.
We hadn’t been properly intimate; we were friends, we were more, we were something unfinished.
All I could think about was what I didn’t have to offer him—no job, no stability, no certainty beyond loving my daughter with everything I had.
What could I give a man like him right now, except need and hope and a mess I was still trying to understand?
“I don’t mean the three of us, I don’t mean you, Gabbi, and me. I mean, just the me and you part. Us.”
“What do I see for you and me?” he asked gently, and I nodded. He made some space between us and tipped my chin for a kiss. “Everything.”
I blinked at him, losing myself in his beautiful eyes, seeing nothing but honesty there.
“But what do you get from me?” I was exasperated with myself. “What do I give you?”
He placed a hand on my chest, right over my heart. “This.”
I kissed him again, and this time it was gentle, and he cradled my face to talk to me. “Will you go on a date with me? Marcus, Alex, Jazz, and Tyler all volunteered to babysit, and I could take you somewhere nice, and it could be us on our own for a while?”
I imagined sitting in a restaurant, probably a fancy one, talking things out, maybe holding hands, waiting for food, people watching us, judging me? Judging Cole? The thought of it itched under my skin.
“Not with people,” I blurted. “Not where I can’t talk properly.” Fuck. I was more broken than I thought.
“Then, how about you come to my place, sweetheart,” he said, his thumb brushing my wrist, “and we spend some time together—just us. No audience. No expectations. You can get to know the parts of me you haven’t seen yet.”
“I’d like that.”
“Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at five.”