Chapter 17 Lucy
Lucy
Three days at Joanna's house, and I was existing in fragments.
Following a routine that felt almost programmed: Wake up.
Feed Gabrielle. Change Gabrielle. Hold Gabrielle while she slept, her small weight the only thing anchoring me to the present.
Watch the hours blur past. Try not to think about Cal. Fail. Try again.
Joanna's guest room was small and warm, filled with quilts her grandmother had made and photos of her grown children on the walls.
It should have felt comforting. Instead, it felt like hiding.
Like I was sixteen again, or like I was running from Evan.
Those moments where I waited for the world to stop being dangerous.
Gabrielle, innocent like the baby she was, didn't know anything was wrong.
She kept her life the way it always was: She ate when she was hungry, slept when she was tired, smiled her gummy smile when I made faces at her.
Her world was simple: warmth, milk, the sound of my voice.
I envied her. Part of me wished I could see the world that way. Small and safe.
My phone sat on the nightstand, screen down. I thought Cal had texted three times. Part of me felt like he didn't want to let me go; another part thought he was doing it out of pure protocol.
Despite everything, I hadn't read any of them.
Each notification was a wound I wasn't ready to touch. I knew if I opened them, I'd see his words, and I'd want to believe them. I'd want to go back, to pretend I'd never stood in that hallway, to let him convince me that what we had was real.
Joanna didn't push. She kept the coffee coming and the silence comfortable, moving around me like I was something fragile that might shatter if handled too roughly. She prepared meals for me, washed bottles without being asked, and held Gabrielle when my arms got tired.
She was giving me space. I knew that. And I appreciated it.
But space wasn't helping. Space just gave me more room to fall apart even harder.
On the third night, Joanna cornered me.
Gabrielle had finally gone down after a fussy evening, and I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a cup of tea that had already been cold for an hour.
Joanna sat across from me, her hands wrapped around her own mug, her eyes steady on my face.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she said, "or do I have to guess?"
I'd known this was coming. Joanna wasn't the type to let things fester. She'd given me three days, which was probably a record for her patience.
"I don't know where to start."
"Start anywhere. I'll keep up."
So I told her all of it. The promise Cal had made to Mateo, the night he died.
The way Cal had moved into my building on purpose when I moved back to town, to watch over me, to keep his word.
The months of pretending we were strangers, the way things had shifted after Evan's threats, the almost-kiss in my kitchen and the way we started to be part of each other's lives, until that.
And then the conversation I'd overheard. Cal's voice, tight with guilt, admitting that everything between us had started because of a promise to a dead man.
Joanna listened without interrupting. When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"That's a lot to carry." The words poured out of her, filled with empathy.
"I don't know what to do with it." I wrapped my hands around my cold tea again, needing something to hold onto. "I thought what we had was real. I thought he chose me. But he didn't. Mateo chose for him."
"Did he, though?"
I looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Mateo asked Cal to take care of you. That's the promise." Joanna tilted her head, considering. "But falling in love with you? Building a life with you? That wasn't part of the deal. That was Cal's choice."
"You don't know that."
"I know what I've seen." Her voice was gentle but firm. "I've watched that man look at you, Lucy. I've seen the way he acted with Gabrielle, the way he lights up when you walk into a room. That's not obligation. That's not duty. That's a man who's head over heels and terrified of it."
I shook my head. "He lied to me. For months."
"He kept a secret. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
Joanna sighed. "Honey, I'm not saying what he did was right.
He should have told you. But think about it from his side.
He made a promise to his best friend while the man was dying in his arms. He's been carrying that weight for three years.
And somewhere along the way, he fell in love with the woman he was supposed to protect.
That's complicated. That's messy. And maybe he didn't know how to tell you without losing you. "
"So he just... didn't tell me? And that's supposed to be okay?"
"No. It's supposed to be human, and humans make mistakes." Joanna reached across the table and took my hand. "Loving someone new doesn't erase who you loved before. It just means your heart's big enough for both. And from where I'm sitting, it looks like Cal's heart has plenty of room for you."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I gave her space to keep talking.
"Did it start as a promise? Maybe," Joanna continued. "But that's not what it is now. And I think you know that. I think that's what scares you."
I pulled my hand back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're looking for a reason to run. You’re sabotaging yourself.
" Joanna's voice was soft, but her eyes were sharp.
"You've been running since Mateo died, Lucy.
Running from this town, running from your grief, running from anyone who might get close enough to hurt you.
And now Cal's gotten close, and you're terrified.
So you're using this as an excuse to push him away. "
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" She raised an eyebrow. "If he'd told you about the promise from the beginning, would you have let him in? Or would you have found another reason to keep your distance?"
The question hit harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to argue, to defend myself, but the words wouldn't come.
Because she was right. If Cal had told me the truth that first night, when I'd knocked on his door in terror, would I have accepted his help? Or would I have seen it as pity, as obligation, and pushed him away before he could get close?
"I don't know," I admitted.
"I think you do." Joanna stood up, came around the table, and pulled me into a hug. "You've been so afraid of losing people that you've stopped letting yourself have them. But that's no way to live, honey. That's just surviving. And you deserve more than that."
I leaned into her, letting her hold me the way my mother used to. It was as if she were doing exactly what my mother would have done.
"What if it's not real?" I whispered. "What if I go back to him and it turns out it was just the promise all along?"
"Then at least you'll know." She pulled back, looking me in the eye. "But I don't think that's what you'll find. I think you'll find a man who loves you. A man who's been waiting for you to let him."
The next morning, I was in the middle of feeding Gabrielle when my phone rang. I almost didn't answer, but his name on the screen made me pause. It was Doc Martinez, and he didn’t call unless it was important.
"Lucy." His voice was warm, unhurried as always. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay." The lie came out automatically. "Just taking some time."
"I'm calling about the foster licensing process," he continued. "We're moving into the next phase—home study, interviews, the formal application. I wanted to give you a heads up so you can start gathering documents."
"Okay. Thank you."
"A two-parent household isn't required," he said carefully, "but it strengthens the file. When permanency hearings come around, judges like to see stability. However, plenty of single parents do it successfully. I just want you to have all the information."
"I appreciate that."
We talked for a few more minutes about the timeline, the documents I'd need, the questions the social worker might ask. After I hung up, I sat there for a long time with Gabrielle warm in my arms.
A two-parent household.
And only one man came to mind: I thought about Cal assembling the crib at 2 AM, his hands steady and sure.
Cal walking the hallway with Gabrielle against his chest, murmuring nonsense words until she fell asleep.
Cal looking at her like she was already his daughter, like he'd do anything to protect her.
He'd been there for all of it. Every midnight feeding, every fussy evening, every small milestone. He'd shown up without being asked, stayed without being told to, loved her without any obligation to do so.
We were building something. A family, piece by piece, without ever deciding to.
And I'd run from it because I was afraid it wasn't real.
Maybe Joanna was right. Maybe the promise was just how it started, not what it had become.
I’d finally given in and turned my phone face-up after Doc’s call, telling myself I needed to be reachable in case of emergencies. The truth was, I was tired of hiding. Tired of pretending I could just ignore everything and it would all go away. The text came that afternoon.
When the screen lit up with an unknown number, my stomach dropped.
Contrary to what I thought, the three messages from days earlier weren’t from Cal, but from someone I avoided even more.
Evan.
Unknown Number.
You ruined my life.
I stared at the words, my heart pounding.
He was back.
Unknown Number.
You think I'll let you be happy while I have nothing?
Another message, seconds later.
Unknown Number.
That firefighter of yours. He thinks he can protect you. He can't.
My blood ran cold.
This wasn't about me anymore. Evan wasn't threatening me. He was threatening Cal.
I thought about blocking the number, but what good would that do? He'd just get another one. He always did. And at least this way, I knew what he was thinking. What he was planning.
Unknown Number
You should have stayed with me.
Another message, he simply wouldn’t stop.
Unknown Number
None of this would be happening if you'd just stayed.
I put the phone down. Picked Gabrielle up from her bassinet and held her close, breathing in her baby smell, trying to slow my racing heart.
Cal didn't know. He had no idea that Evan was watching him, fixating on him, seeing him as the obstacle between Evan and what he wanted.
I should warn him. Should call him, text him, I had to do something.
But that would mean talking to him. And I didn't know if I was ready for that. Then, I thought about the next option.
I picked up my phone and called the sheriff. He answered on the third ring.
"Sheriff, it's Lucy." I didn't bother with pleasantries. "Evan's texting me again. But this time he's threatening Cal Bennett."
I read him the messages, my voice steadier than I felt. He asked questions. I answered. He said he'd send a deputy to the station to warn Cal, increase patrols in the area, and flag Evan's name in the system.
"You did the right thing calling," he said before hanging up. "We'll keep an eye on him."
I sat there after, phone still in my hand, feeling like I'd done something and nothing at the same time. The sheriff would warn Cal. He'd know to be careful. He'd be on alert.
But Evan was still out there. Still watching. Still planning whatever he was planning.
And a restraining order hadn't stopped him before. And if he found out about Gabrielle, my world would be over.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Gabrielle was in the bassinet beside the bed, her breathing soft and even. The house was quiet, Joanna had long been ;sleep down the hall. But my mind wouldn't stop.
Joanna's words echoed in my head. You've been so afraid of losing people that you've stopped letting yourself have them.
Was that what I was doing? Pushing Cal away before the universe could take him from me the way it had taken everyone else?
Mateo. My mother.
And now Evan was threatening Cal. Watching him. Taking pictures of his truck at the station.
If something happened to him because of me, I couldn't survive it. Not again.
Maybe staying away from him was the only way to keep him safe. Maybe losing him in that moment was better than losing him the way I'd lost Mateo.
But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. Evan wouldn't stop just because I stayed away. He wouldn't stop until someone made him stop.
And I was lying here in the dark, using fear as an excuse to avoid the harder truth: that I loved Cal, and loving him terrified me, and the promise was just the reason I'd given myself to run.
I rolled over, stared at the ceiling, and tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I picked it up without thinking.
Unknown Number
Everyone you love burns. That's just who you are.