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“She’s not her father,” I continued, my voice steady but firm. “She doesn’t deserve to be punished for his crimes. And I won’t stand by while anyone tries to do exactly that.”

“Lachlan is right,” Lucas added, standing as well. “I’ve seen plenty of people judged by their family’s actions rather than their own. It’s wrong, and it stops here.”

Daniel and Evelyn stood too, creating a united front. Emma remained seated but her hand found Piper’s under the table, squeezing gently.

Maria looked between us, her righteousness faltering in the face of unified opposition. “I… We have the right to refuse service?—”

“You do,” I agreed. “But think carefully about whether you want to be the kind of place that punishes children for their parents’ sins. Think about what that says about you.”

The standoff stretched for long moments before Maria finally stepped back. “Enjoy your meal,” she said stiffly, then retreated to the kitchen.

Conversation gradually resumed around us, though I could still feel the weight of stares and whispered judgments. We sat back down, and I noticed Piper’s hands trembling as she reached for her water glass.

“Hey,” I said softly. “You okay?”

She nodded, but I could see the tears she was fighting back. Emma kept hold of her hand, and Evelyn started a determined conversation about the upcoming holiday craft fair, drawing Piper in with gentle questions about whether she might like to help with the Resting Warrior booth.

The rest of dinner passed quietly. Our food was good despite the circumstances, and by the time dessert arrived—tiramisu that Emma insisted we all share—Piper had even smiled twice. Small victories, but I’d take them.

As we prepared to leave, Lucas pulled me aside while the women gathered their things.

“She’s been through something,” he said quietly. “I recognize the signs.”

“I know.”

“If you need anything—resources, connections, or just someone to talk to—you know where to find me.”

I gripped his shoulder in thanks. “Appreciated.”

Outside, Piper transferred a sleeping Caleb into his car seat while Emma and Evelyn exchanged phone numbers with her, making plans for coffee that I hoped Piper would actually follow through on.

“Thank you,” Piper said as we drove home, Caleb snoring softly in the back seat. “For standing up for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” I glanced at her in the dim light from the dashboard. “I meant what I said. You’re not your father. You’re not responsible for his actions.”

She was quiet for so long I thought the conversation was over. Then, so softly I almost missed it, she said, “Sometimes the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, no matter how hard it tries to roll away.”

I wanted to argue, to make her see herself the way I saw her—struggling but strong, damaged but not broken, worthy of so much more than she believed. But I recognized the bone-deep belief in her words, the kind that wouldn’t be swayed by simple reassurance.

So instead, I reached across the console and took her hand. She let me, her fingers cold and trembling in mine. We drove the rest of the way in silence, but she didn’t let go.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Chapter 18

Piper

The house feltdifferent as we walked through the door—warmer somehow, like it had been waiting for us to come home. Lachlan flipped on the living room lamp, casting soft light across furniture that had become familiar over the past weeks. My chest ached with something I couldn’t name, a feeling too big for the space behind my ribs.

“Sit,” Lachlan said, his hand gentle on my shoulder. “I’ll put Caleb to bed.”

“I can do it?—”

“I know you can. But I want to.” He lifted the carrier with practiced ease, Caleb still deep in sleep. “You’ve had a long day. Just relax for a few minutes.”

Relax. The word felt foreign in my mouth, like trying to speak a language I’d never learned. But I sank onto the couch anyway, watching him carry our son upstairs. His footsteps were careful on the stairs, avoiding the creaky spots I’d mapped during midnight feedings.

I should use this time to go look for something in his office, but I couldn’t do it. Not tonight.