Bonus Chapter 2
Corinne
Five Years Later
The house was loud with morning chaos—Nathan racing through the hallway in superhero pajamas, Astrid twirling in front of the mirror with a hairbrush microphone, and Kyle sitting at the dining table scrolling through his tablet with his signature preteen frown. Somewhere in the background, baby giggles echoed—Celic and Colt bouncing in their high chairs, faces sticky with banana mash.
Life was chaotic—but beautiful.
Jasper came into the kitchen, coffee in hand, shirt half-buttoned, hair still damp from his shower. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and whispered, “You’re a goddess.”
I laughed. “I haven’t even brushed my hair.”
“Exactly my point,” he smirked.
“Mom!” Astrid called from the hallway. “Nathan won’t let me braid his hair!”
“I don’t have hair to braid!” Nathan protested, arms flailing dramatically.
Jasper stepped around me and scooped Nathan up. “How about you and I go build a pillow fort before school?”
Nathan’s face lit up. “Yes!”
Astrid huffed, but the tiny smile she tried to hide didn’t go unnoticed. She still loved being the only girl in the house, adored the attention she got from Jasper, from Allen—especially Jasper.
Kyle looked up from his tablet. “Are we still going to Dad’s this weekend?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“And Nathan’s coming, too, right?”
Nathan popped his head up from Jasper’s shoulder. “Yes! Allen makes cinnamon pancakes with extra syrup!”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “You sound like a cartoon.”
Jasper grinned. “He’s a cartoon with great taste in breakfast.”
They laughed, and I let it fill my chest. This was the rhythm now. Astrid and Kyle spent the weekends with Allen, and Nathan used to get upset when they left. But now, he went too—and Allen had never once said no. If anything, he welcomed Nathan with open arms, like he’d been part of them from the start.
Allen never moved on. Still hadn’t dated. Still hadn’t tried. He said the kids were enough, that his heart had what it needed. But I could tell. In the quiet moments. When Astrid curled beside him braiding his hair and Kyle shared his weird comic theories. When Nathan hugged him tight before they left.
There was still a hollow space in Allen’s life. A space he’d stopped trying to fill.
And then there was Brit.
She didn’t disappear. Not really. But she vanished from all of us. Moved to Arkansas. Stayed with Sylvia, who now lectured at the state university. No one knew where Brit had gone or why.
Except me.
I was the only one who knew about the affair with Ace—Jasper’s best friend. The only one who held her secret like a thorn under skin.
Tate never asked again. He just poured his pain into his murals, his poetry, and the gritty fashion that now had him booked in galleries from L.A. to Berlin.
Sometimes, we all met for coffee—me, Jasper, Brit, Tate. Sylvia would call in. But the chair beside me was always empty. And we all knew who it belonged to.
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That Morning
A knock came—sharp, urgent.
Too early for a neighbor. Too early for anything, really.
I wrapped my robe around me tighter, kissed Colt’s curly head as he sat babbling on the floor, and went to the door.
When I opened it, the air in my chest went still.
Ace.
His hair was longer, face tired. The boyish charm he used to wear like armor was gone—replaced with something raw and unrecognizable.
Regret.
“Corinne,” he croaked, voice like gravel. “I—I need your help.”
I stayed frozen. “Ace.”
“I know I’m the last person you ever wanted to see. But please. I need to find her.”
Pain gripped my chest. “You don’t get to just walk in—”
“I know. I know. But I’ve looked for years. I’ve tried everything. No one will tell me where she went. You were always the only one who understood her. Please, I just—I need to see her. I need to say I’m sorry.”
He took a shaky breath. “I broke her, Corinne. I know I did. And if she never wants to see me again, I’ll leave. But I have to try.”
I hadn’t realized I was crying until he looked up and whispered, “You were her safe place.”
Behind me, the sound of small feet tapped across hardwood.
“Mom?” Nathan peeked around me. “Who’s that?”
Ace crouched slowly, blinking back his own tears. “Hey, little man.”
Nathan tilted his head. “You’re sad.”
Ace smiled weakly. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Nathan nodded like a sage. “It’s okay. I was sad when Astrid didn’t let me hug Allen goodbye. But then he made pancakes. Pancakes fix sad.”
I knelt beside Nathan. “Why don’t you go help Astrid dress the twins?”
“Okay!” He took off like a blur.
I looked up.
Ace was crying. Hands trembling.
“You still have a family,” he whispered. “You made it.”
“It wasn’t perfect,” I said. “We were messy too.”
He looked down. “I don’t want perfect. I just want one more chance. To make it right.”
“What if she doesn’t want to see you?”
“Then I’ll accept it. But I have to try, Corinne.”
I looked back into the kitchen—Jasper pouring coffee while Astrid braided Kyle’s hair despite his endless grumbles. Our chaos. Our love. Our healing.
Then I turned to Ace.
“I’ll give you the address.”
He choked on a breath. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“But you listen to me,” I said, stepping closer. “You walk in with honesty. You don’t twist anything. You listen. She clawed her way out of the ashes. If she slams the door, you walk away. You never knock again.”
He nodded, serious. “I swear.”
I scribbled the address on a piece of paper, handed it over.
Ace held it like a lifeline. “You always believed in the broken ones.”
“No,” I said gently. “I just know what it’s like to love one.”
And I closed the door.
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