Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Morgan
Getting ready for a date shouldn’t have felt like a mission briefing, but my body didn’t know the difference.
This was date five now with us alone, spread over the last three weeks.
A trip to the movies for a quieter afternoon showing, two dinners at Cole’s place, and two dates here in the family room with picnics.
He didn’t mention me moving in again, even though he kept showing Gabbi photos to get her opinion on the decor for the room he’d promised her. Apparently, one bah was a yes, a nod was a yes, and an enthusiastic grab for his phone was too. It seemed as if my daughter couldn’t say no to him.
Me, on the other hand? I was saying no. Not directly, of course. I hadn’t said no to moving in; I’d said no to leaving Guardian Hall, because I was scared.
I knew I was scared, and Elena didn’t have to psych that out of me; I came out and said it. When they asked what scared me most, and I didn’t have an answer at first, but then I cried.
A lot.
I wanted Gabbi to be safe. I wanted to not jump at noises. I wanted to calm the fuck down.
She gave me things I could do. Breathing with weight was one of them, one hand on my chest, the other on Gabbi’s back, longer exhales than inhales, but no counting like a drill.
Cold water on my wrists, or a warm mug between my hands.
I should have daily anchor points, a routine, known endings like my Willard Price books, and the Hairy McClary books I read to Gabbi.
I also had to think about my pre-exit planning, who would be with Gabbi, how I would get back, and what would happen when I leave.
The worst was that she was making me name my fears.
She told me this was a good thing because I didn’t have to solve everything in one day.
I just had to accept that it was happening.
My waiting-for-the-next-disaster brain had to become used to listing the evidence that a disaster would happen.
Elena didn’t give me a magic trick. She gave me small things. Boring things. Breathing exercises that felt stupid until they didn’t. Ways to check a room without spiraling. Routines that made the day predictable enough that my body stopped bracing for impact.
And yeah, tonight’s date, a meal in a restaurant, was my first real date where I had to face the anxiety head-on.
Gabbi was already down for her nap, and I stood in front of the mirror tugging at a sweater that looked…
fine. I turned sideways, then back again, and made myself stop before I started pulling at seams that didn’t need fixing.
I’d put on a little weight, and it was enough to alleviate the gauntness, not enough to fill out this oversized sweater.
It looks good. I’m okay.
Jazz leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, waiting for me to be done so that, in his words, he could get onto the good bits of his evening in which he, Alex, and Rascal got to spend quality time with Gabbi.
“You look good,” he said.
“Yeah?” I ran a hand through my hair, then dropped it before I could do it again. “This isn’t too much?”
“Cole’s gonna love it, tell you it brings out the color of your eyes, and then smooch you or something.”
I smiled at that—Cole did have a way about him when he threw compliments at me and then kissed me, so I’d remember each one.
“Okay.” I brushed a hand over Gabbi’s hair, and then kissed her, and straightened my sweater again. “The milk is—”
“Don’t even go there,” Jazz interrupted. “We’ve got this.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“No, thank you for letting me have Gabbi time before you go.”
Go.
Go where?
I was stuck.
I didn’t say that. I smiled again and headed downstairs, where Cole would be waiting.
He was always early for picking me up, almost eager, and I loved that.
I was nearly at the office where voices drifted faintly from the half-open door.
I hadn’t noticed them at first—just background sound, the normal hum of Guardian Hall—but then I heard Cole’s voice.
Not loud. Not upset.
I wasn’t trying to listen. I really wasn’t.
“I know you mean well,” Alex was saying, his voice calm but firm. “But mentioning Guardian Hall, even casually to the media in any form, has consequences.”
“I didn’t realize they were going to print it, and I’m sorry, I promise.”
“I know, but there’s only so much room,” Alex continued. “Only so many beds. Only so many staff hours. When people hear about Guardian Hall, they don’t hear limits. They hear hope. And when that hope runs into a locked door… it hurts people.”
Silence stretched.
I could picture Cole’s face without seeing it—the way his jaw went still when he was taking something seriously. The way he didn’t interrupt.
“I’m not saying stop caring, Cole, hell, without you and your board, we’d be floundering,” Alex said more gently. “I’m asking you to be careful. This place survives because we manage expectations.”
Another pause. Then Cole, quieter now. “I get it, I’ll fix it.”
My chest felt full. Heavy. It’s fine. I’m fine.
Cole came out of the office a minute later, his serious expression morphing into a bright smile, coat already on. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said back, matching it as best I could.
He gave me a gentle hug and then straightened. “You ready for the best pasta you’ve ever tasted?”
“Yeah. Is everything okay?” I thumbed back at the building as the front door closed on us and we headed for Cole’s car. He didn’t bother with a driver on our dates, which meant I got to sit up front with him, and on the last time he picked me up, we ended up holding hands at every traffic light.
“I did an interview for a business magazine, they hooked onto the charity work, and I mentioned Guardian Hall off the record, and they printed it, and Alex is worried that will cause an influx they can’t manage.
” He opened the car door for me and closed it when I was in, hurrying around to his side.
“Typical rich guy thinking he can fix everything,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he buckled himself in.
“You didn’t mean it,” I said, loyal and firm.
“I know, but sometimes…” He huffed. “I don’t think things through. It’s all good I promise.” He reached over and squeezed my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Pasta here we come.”
The date was nice.
That wasn’t a lie. Dinner was at this tiny Italian restaurant, warm and unhurried, the place quiet enough that we didn’t have to talk over each other.
Cole asked about my day. I asked about his.
He told me a story about Lennox bringing a boring accounts meeting to an end by accidentally on purpose spilling an entire carafe of water on one of the investment managers, and I laughed at the right places.
But the words from Alex’s office stayed with me, tucked under everything else.
“There’s only so much room.”
I’d known that. Of course I had. Guardian Hall wasn’t infinite. It wasn’t meant to be.
Still, knowing something and feeling it settle into your bones were two different things.
“You’re quiet,” Cole said eventually, not accusing. Just noticing.
I took a sip of water, then set the glass down. “I overheard what Alex said. I didn’t mean to, but I thought you might have needed me to go in and help and… nope, no excuse.”
His shoulders shifted, just slightly. “What part?”
“Alex,” I said. “Talking about Guardian Hall. About space.”
Cole’s expression changed to one of reassurance. “It wasn’t about the guests at Guardian Hall; it was about me messing up.”
“I know.” I hesitated, and Cole waited. He was good at that. “I think…” I searched for the right words, refusing to rush them. “I think I’m ready to leave.”
He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t assume.
“I don’t mean tomorrow,” I added. “And not because anyone’s pushing me. I just—” I shrugged. “I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be there forever. And I don’t want to be the reason someone else doesn’t get help.”
Cole nodded slowly. “Okay.”
I drew a slow breath and steadied myself. This was the hard part. “But please don’t hate me for this…”
He took my hand and laced our fingers. “I love you, Morgan. Nothing you can say can change that.”
I winced. “I’m not ready to move in with you. Not yet. Maybe one day—when I’ve got my head straight, when I can actually see where Gabbi and I fit in your life. I want that. I really do.”
For a moment, I saw the flicker—surprise, maybe a sting—and then it was gone, replaced with something steady.
And my chest tightened, a quiet ache settling in where I didn’t want it.
I was pushing him away. I was ruining this—and I couldn’t tell if I was protecting myself and Gabbi or just being stubborn. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly, like it mattered that I had. He leaned back, giving me space instead of pushing, his expression steady, thoughtful. “You don’t have to be ready yet. I’m not going anywhere.” A small pause, then softer, “Can I offer an option?”
Wait—he wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t pulling back or shutting down or looking at me like I’d just made this impossible. No disappointment, no distance—just him, steady, still here, like none of this had changed anything that mattered. I lifted my gaze. “Sure.”
“You want to study engineering, so that must mean you’re a practical kind of person. Right?”
“Sure, I worked part-time for a garage fixing bikes, and did some work for a local builder-decorator. Why?”