Chapter 29 #3
“One evening…” he hesitated there, just briefly, like he was choosing how to say it without making it sound like something it wasn’t.
“We stayed longer than usual. Talked more. I don’t even remember what about, not exactly. It just… kept going.” His mouth pulled faintly to the side, like a smile that never fully formed. “And then it turned into something else.”
He didn’t look at me when he said that.
“It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t… something either of us thought through. It just happened.” Silence settled in the room again for a while.
“And after that,” he continued. “Everything changed.”
His hands tightened against each other before relaxing again.
“She got pregnant.” The words were simple, too simple.
“And I tried,” he said after, like he needed to make that part clear before anything else could be assumed.
“I tried to be there. I tried to do what I was supposed to do. I didn’t walk away from it, I didn't –” he stopped himself again, shook his head once.
“Rowan…” his voice dropped. “Your mother was sick.”
He finally looked at me.
“Very sick.”
I didn’t know what to do with him. It wasn’t about believe or not believe, it was more like… nothing I had lined up in my head fit with what was sitting in front of me, and instead of snapping into place, it all just stayed there, overlapping, refusing to settle. He sounded so fucking steady.
Saying things like they’d been sitting with him for a long time and didn’t need to be dressed up anymore.
And I hated that. Because it landed wrong, it made my body react differently from what it usually would have.
There was no clear direction to it. It moved slowly through my body, spreading instead of locking it.
It started somewhere under my ribs, low and tight, and then worked its way up into my chest, my throat, my jaw.
I became aware of how hard I was holding my teeth together when it started to ache.
I shifted my hand slightly, just enough that my fingers brushed against my side, and I…
Don’t do that, little Ghost. Don’t go still on me here.
This is where it matters. This is where you’re supposed to pay attention.
Because this part right here, is where it could’ve gone a completely different way.
“I tried to get her help.” His voice pulled me back in.
“I did what I could. More than I knew how to at the time. I thought if I just… stayed, if I kept things stable, it would be enough.”
He shook his head, almost to himself.
“It wasn’t.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if I was listening or just waiting. For things to change, for him to say something else, for something in me to finally click into place so I knew what I was supposed to do. Nothing clicked.
“I tried to keep you at first,” he continued.
“But I couldn’t. Not the way I needed to. Not the way you deserved.”
That word, deserved. It did something. My fingers pressed harder into the fabric beneath me, grounding, maybe.
Or stopping something. I’m not sure which.
I leaned forward without thinking about it, my weight shifting, elbows hovering near my knees like I might stand up at any second.
I didn’t, but I could have. It would have been easy.
You see that, don’t you?
How close it sits under the surface. How little it takes.
I could’ve ended it right there, but it didn’t.
He didn’t say anything after that. The room went quiet again, but not the same kind before.
This one had something under it. Like both of us were aware of something shifting, even if neither of us said it out loud.
He looked me in the eyes and I held it. Didn’t drop his gaze, didn’t soften it either.
I wanted him to feel it.
Whatever it was, whatever I was in that moment.
He exhaled slowly, then pushed himself up from the sofa.
The movement was calm, like he trusted the space between us.
I watched him the entire time he stood, turned, walked away from me.
My head didn’t follow, but my eyes did, tracking every step like I needed to know exactly where he was at all times.
He moved toward one of the cabinets along the wall and opened it.
The sound was soft, like everything in the house was.
He reached inside, shifting something, papers maybe, until he found what he was looking for.
A thick folder. He stood there for a second with it in his hand, too long for it to just be about grabbing something.
Then he turned back and walked towards me again.
I stayed where I was, still close enough that if I moved just a little more, it would’ve changed the entire distance between us.
He stopped at the table and sat the folder down between us. His hand rested on top of it for a second, then he looked at me again.
“Maybe…” he started, then adjusted it, lowering his tone.
“Maybe it’s better if you see it for yourself.”
He didn’t push it toward me, didn’t open it, just left it there. Close enough that I could reach it without standing, or close enough that I didn’t have to reach for anything else.