Chapter 17
The emergency room's automatic doors fling open, flooding us with harsh fluorescent lighting and the sharp tang of antiseptic. The smell makes my stomach churn and my heart pound as I scan the waiting room.
I spot Colt immediately. The pounding in my chest starts to fade into a slow hum when I see him pacing near the reception desk. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and his head is bowed, but I mainly notice the tension in his shoulders. My chest tightens.
“Where is he?” I stammer out, rushing toward him. My voice pulls Colt’s attention to me. Relief washes over his face when our eyes connect.
“He’s with my mom and dad finishing up with the doctor,” Colt says quickly, stepping toward me. “He’s going to be okay, Emma. He broke his arm, but the doctor said it was a clean break and should heal in no time. The cast is already on.”
“How did he do with everything? I know how much he hates hospitals,” I say, cringing at the memory of shielding his tiny head as the doctor administered his shots.
“He was very brave. Only cried a little.”
The breath I’ve been holding rushes out in a shaky exhale. My knees want to give out as the tension in my body eases.
“Thank God,” I whisper to myself. The relief only lasts for a moment before the guilt kicks in. “I should’ve been there,” I say, my voice trembling.
“Emma, you can’t predict these things. You’re here now, and that’s what matters,” Colt says. His tone is sharp, but it’s hard to meet his eyes with this weight on my back.
I nod because I can’t argue, but the guilt digs deeper.
If I hadn’t been out with Henry, would Milo have been with me instead?
Or could I have been here sooner so I could have held and comforted him when they put the cast on?
These questions flood my mind, threatening to knock down the dam that’s keeping my emotions at bay.
“Can I see him?” I ask, glancing toward the hallway leading to the treatment rooms.
Colt nods, but his eyes travel past me, and his eyebrows knit together in confusion.
I follow his line of sight and remember Henry standing just inside the entrance.
He’s quiet, with his hands securely stowed away in his pockets.
His posture is stiff, and he looks nervous.
Like he’s not sure how he fits into all of this quite yet.
“Head back,” I tell Colt, forcing my voice to sound calm. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He hesitates, glancing between Henry and me before nodding. “Two doors down on the left,” he says, heading toward the treatment rooms.
I cross the space to Henry. I didn’t want him to leave, but I was afraid our relationship had already taken up too much space in my mind for one night. I needed to focus on Milo.
“I should—” Henry begins, gesturing toward the exit.
“Yes,” I agree, my tone harsher than intended. I attempt to soften my voice before speaking again. “Thank you for driving me, but I think I’ve got it from here.”
Henry hesitates, wrinkles forming between his brows. His eyes meet mine, and he looks like he’s deciding if I want him to go.
“What about your car? I can wait in the parking lot if you need me to?”
I start to sweat under the pressure of his gaze.
He felt like the only person capable of making me stand still when all I wanted to do was spin out of control.
I wanted him here, but it all felt like too much with my ex-husband and ex-in-laws in the other room.
I wasn’t capable of worrying over Milo and Henry at the same time. I needed to pick my battles.
“Colt can give me a ride, but thank you. I know this isn’t a great way to end our first date.”
Henry cracks a weak smile and nods reassuringly. “No worries. I’m just glad Milo is okay. If you need anything, call me, okay?”
I nod, and he gives me one last lingering look before doing something unexpected. He steps forward and wraps his arms around me. The movement catches me off guard, and I don’t have any time to react. I don’t have any time to run away.
The mixture of vanilla and sandalwood soothes my pounding heart, and a single tear falls down my cheek. I lean into him and let his arms tighten around me like the shield I didn’t think I needed. I let him be what I need until the guilt starts tapping at my door again.
I want to let it all go in his arms, but I don’t. I can’t walk into the other room with puffy, wet eyes. I needed to stay strong for Mi.
He doesn’t say anything when he pulls away. He just reaches out and wipes away the lone tear on my chin. I don’t say anything, either. I don’t feel the need to. All I manage is a kind smile and a look that begs for more but asks for time to figure out what that looks like.
Once Henry disappears through the hospital entrance, I take one deep breath and let our moment sink in before spinning on my heels to find Milo.
Colt meets me just outside the treatment room, catching my elbow before I collide with him. “Whoa, slow down,” he says, steadying me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, brushing past him.
“Emma, just wait a second,” Colt says, his brows pinched with concern. “Are you okay?”
I plant my feet at the door and slump my shoulders forward in defeat. Even if Milo is okay, I still feel like I failed as a parent. I’m supposed to be his rock, and today, I was too wrapped up in someone else to be there when he needed me most.
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy, like they’re dragging up every ounce of guilt I’ve been carrying since my phone rang.
“I feel like a shitty parent right now. He needed me, and I wasn’t—” My voice cracks, and I look down at the floor to hide the tears in my eyes. I longed for Henry’s arms but settled for Colt’s compassion.
Colt exhales, running a hand through his hair.
“Emma, stop doing this to yourself.” His tone is firm but sincere.
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but you’re not your mom.
You’re nothing like her. When you found out Milo was hurt, you dropped everything just to be here.
Even if you couldn’t be there right away, you showed up for him as soon as you could. That’s what matters.”
The words feel rough on my skin. The truth has always been uncomfortable for me, but tonight, I’m facing it head-on.
“You think that’s enough?” I ask.
“I know it is,” Colt replies. He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Milo’s a kid, Emma. He will get hurt, scrape his knees, and break a bone or two. That’s life. But he’s got you—someone who always shows up, no matter what.”
Another tear slips out, but I don’t bother hiding it from him. “I just—I don’t want him to ever feel like I did when I was a kid. I want him to know I’ll always be there for him. I need him to know that, Colt.”
Colt shakes his head. “Trust me, that kid knows how much you love him. You’re his whole world, Em. One night won’t change that.”
I look at him, and the sincerity there stops me short. For all the ways Colt and I didn’t work, he’s always had this endearing side that made me feel like I could rely on him even on my most challenging days. He’s always been there for me, even after our love took a detour.
“Thank you,” I mutter, my throat tight. “I needed to hear that.”
He offers a smile that feels like a crutch I need to lean on. “Anytime. Now, come on,” he says, gesturing toward the door. “Milo’s been asking for you.”
I nod and follow Colt through the narrow doorway to a small treatment room.
Milo is curled up in a hospital bed, his face blotchy from crying but now calm as he snuggles against his grandmother’s chest. His arm is encased in a bright blue cast, his favorite color.
His lower lip trembles when he sees me, and his free hand reaches out.
“Mommy,” he says, his voice small and shaky.
“Oh, baby,” I rush to him, carefully scooping him into my arms. His tiny body clings to me, his face buried in my neck. “I’m here. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Mommy’s here now.”
He sniffles quietly as I gently rock him, whispering calm encouragement against his hair. His hand clutches at my shirt, and he sniffles. “It hurts,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.
“I know, baby,” I whisper, swaying him gently as tears threaten to spill out of my eyes. “I’m so proud of you for being strong. You’re so brave.”
Milo leans his head against my shoulder, and I let out a breath of relief. The guilt feels less sharp now but still presses firmly on my mind. I should’ve been the one to hold him when he cried, the one to reassure him when he was scared.
Colt’s mom stands and gives my arm a gentle pat. “He’ll be just fine, Emma. Kids are a lot tougher than you think.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Thank you for staying with him.”
“Of course,” she says, gathering her things.
Colt’s dad clears his throat. “We’ll leave you two to it. Call if you need anything.”
As they leave, Colt shifts on his feet. “Do you need a ride home?”
“Actually, can you give me a ride into town? That’s where my car is,” I say, looking down at Milo, who’s starting to drift off against my shoulder.
“Of course,” he answers. Colt gives me a quick nod and heads out. I adjust Milo in my arms, pressing a kiss to his temple as I follow Colt to his truck.
The silence in Colt’s truck is heavy but comfortable as we pull out of the hospital parking lot.
Milo is strapped into his car seat in the back, his head tilted against the side as he drifts into an exhausted sleep.
His tiny hand is curled loosely around the edge of his blanket, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep.
I steal a glance at Colt. His jaw is set, and his hands are steady on the wheel, but the faint crease between his brows tells me he’s lost in thought.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, breaking the quiet.
He glances at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. “It’s no problem. You’d do the same for me.”
I nod, but something about his easy response pokes at a tender place in my chest. “I’m glad you were there tonight,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a great dad.”
Colt shifts awkwardly, and his hands slide across the steering wheel. Compliments were rare between us. “Milo’s lucky. He’s got two parents who love him like crazy.”
I try to respond, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I offer a faint smile and turn my body back toward the window, letting the quiet settle again.
After a moment, Colt speaks again, his tone casual but probing. “That guy—Henry—he was with you tonight?”
I blink, startled by the question. There’s no jealousy in his tone, just curiosity. Maybe even a touch of encouragement. Still, it feels strange to talk about that stuff with him. “Yeah,” I admit quietly. “We were on a date.”
Colt nods slowly, his expression unreadable from this angle. “Good. That’s good. You deserve to do something for yourself.”
The unexpected support catches me off guard, and I turn my body toward him. “It feels weird,” I confess. “With everything so new.”
He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “It’s been a year, Em. You’re allowed to move on.” Then, teasingly, he adds, “Though you might want to warn your dates about Milo’s dare-devil capabilities. We thought he was a handful when he learned how to walk.”
A hard laugh escapes me despite everything that happened tonight. “Noted.”
But the laughter doesn’t last. After everything tonight, my mind feels raw and detached.
In moments like this, I question everything.
I start wondering if Colt and I could’ve made it work.
Had we just held on a little longer, could we have gotten through the rough patches?
But deep down, I already know the answer.
Suddenly, it becomes too much, and I can’t stop the words from coming out. “Do you think we could’ve made it work?” My throat feels dry immediately after I ask the question.
Colt exhales sharply, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I’ve asked myself that a hundred times,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think we both know the answer.”
I swallow hard when he repeats the words I was thinking. “I guess I just wonder if we didn’t try hard enough. If I didn’t fight for us more.”
“Emma, no.” His voice is firm, almost forceful. “You always do that. You always try to take the blame for everything. It wasn’t you. Or at least, not just you. We both wanted things but didn’t know how to ask for them—or even what they were.”
I look over at him, surprised by the honesty. This is the most we’ve ever talked about our relationship without being prompted by a therapist. “What did you want?”
He chuckles dryly. “Hell, I don’t know. I wanted to feel like I wasn’t just surviving. Like there was more to life than paychecks and responsibilities piling up. I wanted to be enough for you and Milo, but half the time, I felt like I didn’t know how to be there for either of you. What about you?”
I hesitate, searching for the right words. “I wanted to feel seen. Like I wasn’t just ‘Colt’s wife’ or ‘Milo’s mom.’ Like I mattered as more than what I could give.”
Colt’s jaw tightens, and he nods slowly. “I get that now. I didn’t then, but I do now. You mattered, Emma. You still do.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and I blink hard against the sting of tears. “I think we just ran out of space to figure it out together,” I say.
“Yeah,” he agrees, his tone tinged with regret but not bitterness. “But look, we’re doing okay, right? For Milo?”
I smile faintly, glancing back at our sleeping son. “Yeah. We are.”
The quiet settles again, but it feels like an old friend. As we pull onto the side street where my car is waiting, Colt parks and turns to me.
“You’re allowed to move on, you know,” he says, his voice gentle. “You deserve to be happy, Em. And if Henry—or whoever—can give you that, don’t let guilt stop you.”
I nod and bite my lip, holding back the emotions threatening to spill over. “You deserve that too, Colt.”
“Thanks, Em. I still have a lot of my own shit I’m working through, but I appreciate you saying that.”
I give him one last smile before opening my door and heading to the backseat to untangle my sleepy son from his car seat. Colt stops me before I shut the door and says, “Take care of yourself, okay? And call if you need anything.”
“I will,” I promise before shutting the door.
As he drives off, I stand there, holding Milo close and watching the taillights disappear into the night. There’s still so much to figure out, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe—just maybe—we’re heading in the right direction.