Page 41 of Shattered Promise

“There are leftovers in the fridge for lunch, so help yourself. And he loves those packets too.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll be in here if you need me,” he says, his focus on the car.

I nod and step into the sunlight, glancing back once.

He’s standing in front of the car, one hand braced on the Mustang’s raised hood, the other hanging loose at his side. The work rag dangles from his fingers, forgotten. His gaze is steady, fixed on me. Not in a way that asks for anything, but in a way that acknowledges everything. Like he’s been watching the whole time. Like nothing I do is invisible to him, even when I wish it were.

A pulse of heat flashes in my cheeks and I look away, feigning interest in the meadow, the porch, the short distance to his house. Anything but the way his gaze feels like a physical caress over my skin.

16

MASON

The porch creaksbeneath my boots as I lean against the railing, Theo settled against my chest, warm and squirmy, babbling like he’s got something real important to say. It’s all soft vowels and spit bubbles, a string of sing-song nonsense delivered with absolute conviction. Those parenting blogs say most kids talk or walk first, and I’m betting my boy’s gonna be talking long before he runs.

I bring my third cup of coffee to my lips, the ceramic warm against my fingers, and that’s when I see her. She crests the low rise at the edge of the field, hoodie sleeves shoved to her elbows, sunglasses perched on her head like a half-forgotten afterthought. She lifts a hand in a small gesture that lands somewhere between hello and maybe.

There’s something careful about it. Something quiet.

“Morning,” I call out, straightening as she reaches the porch.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless like maybe she walked faster than she meant to. Her voice is soft around the edges. Tentative, but not cold.

We pause in that space where a hug might live, if we were different people. If the air between us weren’t still thick with history and hesitation.

“Theo couldn’t wait to see you this morning.”

He wriggles in my arms and lunges toward her like he’s trying to do a swan dive into her arms.

She laughs, the sound low and warm. “I couldn’t wait to see you, too,” she murmurs. She catches him with practiced ease, and I reluctantly let him go.

Logically, I know it’s a good thing that he’s happy to see her. But damn, I didn’t think he’d jump to her the moment she was relatively close enough. Especially after only a day.

It makes me wonder what’s going to happen when she leaves and goes back to her real life. This is temporary for her, she’s going to leave.

That thought sits sour in the pit of my stomach as Abby hugs Theo to her chest, murmuring little nonsense phrases to him while he grips onto her hair with tight fists.

She drops onto the porch steps, settling Theo on her lap, and I follow on instinct—setting my coffee on the rail and lowering myself to the step beside her. The boards are sun-warmed, already radiating heat through my jeans, and for a second I wish I could just kick my boots off and sprawl out with them for the rest of the day.

But my to-do list would never allow it.

Theo settles instantly against her, nestling his face in the crook of her neck like they’ve done this a million times before. I try not to stare, but she looks different today. Brighter, maybe, even though the bruise is still there. It’s fading, healing. Her hair’s loose and a little messy, the sleeves of her sweatshirt are half-pushed and half-rolled in a way that tells me she’s already been up for hours, restless or working or both. Sun catches the ends of her hair and throws off a shimmer.

She looks like summer, like maybe she belongs to this porch in this light, in this exact moment.

I clear my throat and reach for my coffee, suddenly needing something to do with my hands.

“Did you eat?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She smiles without looking at me. “I’m good.”

I stand, brush off my jeans, and jerk my chin toward the door. "I made breakfast sandwiches. There's one with your name on it."

She hesitates, standing and shifting Theo so he's balanced on her hip. "Is it the kind with the weird sausage patty, or the good kind?"

"Good kind. Bacon, egg, cheddar. On a biscuit." I hold the screen door open, letting the cool darkness of the house breathe out at us. She steps through, Theo perched like a koala on her arm, and I follow, careful to let the door ease shut behind me.