Page 35 of Shattered Promise

Me: Good. You’re alive. I was about to brave the snake pit to find your mysterious cabin.

It’s a stretched truth. Going to her cabin to demand things from her is one thing, but texting about Theo is safe. And if she comes here? Then that’s something else entirely.

Abby: Snake pit?

Me: The field.

Abby: You mean the meadow of clover and daisies?

Me: Two feet of death and danger.

Abby: I didn't know you were so dramatic, Mason. Are you sure you weren't secretly a theater major in college?

Too easy. Too familiar. And that’s what fucks me up a little bit. It hits in that soft place just under my ribs—the place that's only ever belonged to two people.

Theo shifts in his bouncer, letting out a tiny sigh but doesn’t wake up. I glance down at him. My thumb hovers over the screen as an idea starts to bloom.

Me: Theo hasn’t napped right since you were here.

The three dots pop up, then vanish, then pop up again.

Abby: Maybe he just missed me.

Me: Maybe I did too.

I shouldn’t have said that, but I don’t take it back either. I type out another text quickly, hitting send before I read it over.

Me: The parenting blogs say he’s in a sleep regression, but I don’t know how to fix it. Any chance you want to come help me?

There. The offer is out there now.

Abby: I’ll be right there.

I scrub a hand across the back of my neck and glance at Theo again. Still asleep, looking so peaceful and so fuckin’ perfect it makes my chest squeeze tight.

Damn it.

I know what I’m about to do. It’s the one thing you’re never supposed to do. I’m going to wake up my sleeping baby.

But what other option do I have? I invited her over to help me fix nap strikes and sleep regression. She can’t walk in and see him snoozing like a fucking cherub. She’ll never believe me. And worse, she’ll never trust me again.

“Sorry, buddy,” I murmur as I unclip the buckle on his little seat, “but we’ve got a role to play.”

Theo stirs as I lift him out. He lets out a soft whimper, then a little grumble. I brace myself for the incoming cries. I bounce him a little as I go inside and grab two glasses of the iced tea lemonade I made earlier. I set them on the table and sink into a chair just in time to see her approaching from the right.

Sunlight glances off her hair, loose around her shoulders. She’s in jean shorts and another soft hoodie, sleeves pushed to her elbows, with purple oversized sunglasses covering half her face. Those are new.

Something loosens in my chest at the sight of her. Something dangerous.

She slows at the steps, gaze skipping over the porch, past me, then to Theo. Her face breaks into something so real and unguarded, I nearly forget how to speak.

“I heard there was a sleep emergency,” she says, mock-serious, but her eyes soften the punchline.

“Situation’s dire,” I deadpan. “We’re at code red.”

She climbs the steps, less wary than before, and stands close enough for the scent of her shampoo to edge out the sun-warmed wood. Theo blinks up, dazed and heavy-lidded, and Abby’s whole demeanor shifts. She crouches to his level and pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head.

“Hey, buddy,” she says, voice low and gentle. “Rough day?” He gives a gummy, uncertain smile, then tucks his head into my shoulder like he’s shy.