Chapter 24
Mitch
Luke and I are at our usual booth in the corner of The Tavern, the one with the torn vinyl seat and the wobble if you lean too hard on the table. The air smells like grease and garlic.
The waitress drops off our Cokes and a basket of garlic knots, smiling like she knows the drill. We’ve been in here enough that she doesn’t even ask what we want anymore.
“Two large supremes, right?” she asks.
“Yep,” Luke says.
She nods. “You got it.”
She walks off, and Luke stretches, cracking his neck before sinking back against the booth.
“So,” I say, popping a garlic knot into my mouth. “How was that dinner thing with Maddie last night?”
He lets out an annoyed huff, rolling his eyes like just the question alone gets under his skin.
“The food was good.”
“That it?” I laugh.
“Pretty much.”
Maddie just finished her first year at the University of Georgia. She’s been home a few weeks now, but most weekends she’s still bouncing back and forth to Athens—sorority events, themed parties, friend stuff Luke pretends not to care about but absolutely does.
Two hours away, surrounded by frat houses and guys who don’t know her like he does. If Luke doesn’t go see her, he’s wound tight. If he does, he comes back even tighter. Either way, it’s clear—college didn’t just change Maddie…it changed them.
“I can’t stand her friends, these sorority girls,” he mutters.
“Why’s that?”
“She’s different around them,” he says. “Acts different. Like she has to, for them.”
“Yeah, I remember you said that a few months ago.”
He takes a drink, glancing out the window. “She’s always on her phone. Group chats blowing up, dumb jokes I don’t get.”
“You aren’t supposed to, Luke. She needs to have her own friends too. And look, at least she’s home for the summer,” I point out.
“Yeah,” he says, unconvinced. “But it’s temporary.”
I watch him for a second. Luke doesn’t do uncertainty well. He likes things to be solid. Familiar. Maddie’s always been that for him.
“She’s just figuring out who she is,” I say. “Let her breathe.”
The waitress returns with the pizzas, setting them down between us, the smell of Italian seasoning and sausage cutting through the heaviness.
The bell over the front door jingles, and both of us glance up at the same time. It’s Brad, uniform and all.
He still looks weird in it—black shirt crisp, badge catching the light, duty belt at his hips. Well, not weird. Just different. Like seeing someone you grew up with suddenly dressed like an adult.
“I didn’t do it,” Luke jokes, holding his hands up.
Brad grins, making his way over and slides into the booth beside me.
“You going in or going home?” I ask.
“Going in at seven; still working nights.”
“I feel like nights would be more exciting than days,” Luke suggests.
“Oh, it is. Mostly noise complaints, drunk idiots, domestic calls. Nothing crazy.”
“But you want crazy,” Luke says.
Brad shrugs. “It’s fine. For now. But yeah.”
I smirk. “Give it time. You’ll get your action.”
The waitress drops a Coke off for Brad, and for a minute the table goes quiet except for chewing.
Brad wipes his hands on a napkin and glances to me. “So. How are things…Callie, Landon?” He nods toward me.
“Good,” I say simply. “Busy. Tired. But good.”
Brad smiles. “I still can’t believe you’re a dad, man. It’s weird.”
“Well, I can’t believe you’re a cop, so…” We all laugh.
Luke leans back in the booth, smirking. “Yeah, so…what? Getting anything with that uniform yet? Girls usually swarm you when you’ve got a badge.”
Brad snorts. “A little bit here and there. Nothing substantial.”
“Oh yeah?” Luke raises a brow. “What about in-house?”
Brad frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Like…female officers,” Luke says, like it’s obvious.
Brad laughs and shakes his head. “Oh—no. They’re all old. Pushing thirty, at least.”
Luke shrugs. “So?”
“So absolutely not,” Brad says without hesitation. “Besides, I couldn’t date a cop.”
Luke squints at him. “Why not?”
Brad grimaces. “Too much. Same job, same stress, same mess.”
I nod, lifting my Coke. “Fair.”
Brad clinks his glass against mine. “Exactly.”
Luke snorts. “Or you just don’t want her to be able to kick your ass.”
Brad scoffs. “Please.” He takes another drink and then looks to Luke, “How’s town royalty?” he asks Luke. Luke glares back at him. “Uh-oh,” Brad says, looking at me.
“Don’t ask.”
“You guys fighting again?”
“Not fighting,” Luke mutters. “Just…adjusting.”
Brad squints. “That what we’re calling it these days?”
Luke shoots him a glare. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Alright,” Brad says, holding up both hands. “Next subject.” He turns to me. “Tell me something interesting, Mitch, before Luke flips the table.”
I let out a slow breath, half laughing. “I’m gonna propose.”
Both of them freeze.
Brad blinks. “Again?”
Luke sits up straighter. “When?”
“Next weekend, while we’re up for the Fourth,” I say. “At the lake.”
Luke lets out a low whistle. “Dang.”
Brad studies me, serious now. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say without hesitation.
“You ask her dad?” Luke says, and I nod.
I did it back in May. Landon was barely two months old then.
Callie thought I was working late, but instead I was sitting at her parents’ kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug I didn’t drink from once.
I stayed over an hour. They asked questions, real ones.
About plans, about faith, about the kind of husband and father I intend to be.
Nothing sharp or mean. Just protective, the way good parents are.
By the time I left, her dad shook my hand. Her mom hugged me, eyes glossy, and told me—very clearly—that she was excited. She even laughed and said I’d better show her the ring the second I got it.
Brad tilts his head. “What if she says no again?”
“She won’t,” I say. “She already told me she’s ready.”
Luke points at me. “That’s cheating.”
I shrug. “Not when you’ve got a kid.”
“Well, I’m happy for you. It’ll be nice to be under the same roof.” Brad claps my back.
“I know. Macy’s got the place all taken over with her stuff. It smells like an organic Bath & Body Works.”
“Sure you wanna trade that for dirty diapers?” Lukes jokes.
We all take another bite of our pizzas, the noise of The Tavern humming on like it always does.
Same booth. Same guys. Three completely different lives.
* * *
It’s just past eight when I pull into the driveway. The curtains in the front window are drawn, a faint wash of TV light slipping through the edges.
I step inside quietly. The TV’s on low, and Callie’s curled into the corner of the couch, Landon tucked against her chest, nursing.
Her hair’s pulled into a messy bun, loose strands falling around her face. She looks tired in that soft, end-of-the-day way.
“Hey,” she whispers, smiling when she sees me.
“Hey,” I say softly, toeing off my boots. “Was hoping I didn’t miss bedtime.”
“Nope,” she murmurs. “He’s dozing, though.”
I cross the room and sit beside her, watching him for a second. His eyes flutter at the sound of my voice, his little hand fisted in her shirt.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Pretty good. The kids were good.”
She still babysits Holland and Nash during the week, though they come here now. It’s easier with Landon being so little and them being older.
“Good,” I say.
My hand runs instinctively over Landon’s head, soft brown curls already showing—just like mine were as a baby. When he stops eating, Callie starts to tuck herself away to burp him, but I hold out my arms.
“I’ve got him.”
She doesn’t hesitate, passing him right over. “Okay.”
She tosses me a burp rag, and I drape it over my shoulder, settling him against my chest. He lifts his head and looks up at me, big brown eyes blinking slowly before a crooked little smile breaks across his face.
“Hey, buddy,” I whisper.
I pace the living room, patting his back, harder than you think you should, though it never feels like much. The sound is louder than the motion.
He smiles at me again, like he knows exactly who I am. And just like that, I’m back there.
The hospital room. The lights bright, the smell of antiseptic all tangled up with my nerves.
Callie’s exhausted, gripping my hand so hard, like it was the only thing she had.
It all kinda blurs after the nurse said he was coming and she went to get the doctor.
All I remember is my heart pounding, my head sweating under my hat, and holding my breath every time she pushed.
And then, before I knew it, they handed him to her.
I didn’t expect that moment to feel as heavy as it did. The reality slapping me in the face. The responsibility, and how my whole life just got permanently altered. Like fear and love collided so hard that it almost knocked the wind out of me.
And when I held him for the first time… God, all I remember thinking was don’t mess him up.
I remember promising myself that I’d show up. That I’d learn and be better than I was the day before.
Now he’s been here three months, smiling up at me like I hung the moon, and I don’t know, I kinda hope he always feels that way.
Callie stands, her oversized Georgia Bulldogs T-shirt swallowing her, red-and-white-striped pajama shorts barely visible underneath. Her hair’s fallen loose now, damp from earlier, a trace of makeup still on her face.
“Do you care if I shower?” she asks.
“Of course not. I’ve got him.”
“Thank you.” She starts toward the stairs, then turns back. “Make sure you leave one arm out when you swaddle him, and check his diaper. I just changed him, but—”
“I got it, babe.”
Her shoulders drop a little, relief softening her posture. Then she heads upstairs.
I glance down at Landon, who’s staring over my shoulder at the TV like it’s hypnotized him.
“That’s definitely not gonna help you sleep,” I mutter, reaching for the remote and clicking it off.
Once he burps, I carry him upstairs, change him, swaddle him—one arm out—pacifier in place. I sway beside the crib to the soft hush of the sound machine until his body goes heavy in my arms.
He looks too small for the crib. But he’s outgrown the bassinet, and he does well in his own room. Callie’s happier this way, so I am too.
When I head back downstairs, Callie’s changed into fresh pajamas, hair damp, a blanket tucked over her legs. The baby monitor hums quietly beside her.
I sit down, and she shifts closer, leaning into my chest, fitting there like she always has.
“I missed you tonight,” she says.
I kiss the top of her head. “Me too. You wanna watch something?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m tired.”
“That’s okay, we can just—”
Landon fusses on the monitor.
Callie lifts her head, eyes already on the screen. “Was he asleep when you put him down?”
“Yeah. I held him a minute or two before I transferred him.”
She groans softly, pushing the blanket aside and standing.
“Do you want me to get him?” I ask.
“No,” she mutters, already heading up the stairs.
I watch the monitor as she scoops him up, shushing him gently, trying the pacifier. When that doesn’t work, she settles into the rocking chair and lifts her shirt.
That’s when I look away.
Hopefully he just needs a little more and will go back down. I thought we had a good rhythm going feeding-wise, but what do I know.
A few minutes later, she comes back downstairs and pauses at the bottom step.
“I think I’m just gonna head up to bed,” she says quietly. “Not sure how the night’s gonna go now.”
I cross the room and pull her into a hug. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
“I will.”
I pull back just enough to kiss her. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She heads upstairs, and I stand there for a moment longer, listening to the house settle around me.
Same walls. Same routine.
Still figuring it out—together.
* * *
Macy’s at the kitchen table when I walk in, the surface completely taken over by small square boxes—half taped and ready to ship, the rest waiting for labels. She’s barefoot, hair piled on top of her head, humming along to whatever’s playing from the speaker beside her.
“You’re early,” she says, glancing up.
“Callie was tired.”
She nods like that explains everything. “Yeah. I’m sure. How was dinner?”
“Good.” I pause, then add, “You talk to Maddie lately?”
Macy shakes her head, peeling a label off its backing. “Not since last week. Weren’t they in Athens all weekend?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just didn’t know if she mentioned anything.”
She stops what she’s doing and looks at me. “Like what?”
“Nothing in particular.” I shrug. “Just…anything.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “Mitch. About what? What did Luke say?”
I exhale. “He’s just not into this college thing with her. Like…at all.”
Macy snorts softly. “I mean…can you blame him?”
“I guess not,” I say. “But I don’t know. He needs to trust her more. They’ve been together how long now?”
“I think he trusts her,” she says carefully. “Just not the frat guys.”
I shake my head. “Still. If something happened, it wouldn’t be because she wanted it to. Like—God forbid—if she got assaulted or something, it’s not like she asked for that.”
Macy nods slowly. “Right. And that’s exactly what he’s afraid of.”
“That’s not something he can control,” I say. “He can’t protect her from everything.”
She sighs and sets the label down, folding her arms. “Don’t be so cold, Mitch. You know their backstories. Give them some grace.”
I lean back against the counter, rubbing a hand over my face. “Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”
Macy gives me a small, knowing look and goes back to her boxes.
“Just…don’t forget,” she says quietly. “For them, love isn’t just love. It’s safety.”
I don’t answer right away. Because I know she’s right.