Page 63 of Shattered Promise

Above us, the porch light draws a soft orbit for every moth and mayfly in the county. Abby’s eyes trace their zigzag patterns, something lit and wistful behind the way she follows the tiny, frantic movements. She looks like she might say something, then shakes her head minutely, lips pressed to the soft fuzz of Theo’s hair. He’s idly tugging on a lock of her hair, and I find myself strangely jealous of their proximity.

She rocks him, rocks herself, and for a while we just sit there, the three of us, tangled in the hush.

The oven timer rings, breaking the moment, and Abby startles, blinking like she’s surfaced from a dream. She gives a sheepish little smile and squeezes Theo tighter, as if he’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the porch.

I hold out a hand. “Ready to eat?”

She slides her hand into mine, and I pull them both to stand. And the three of us wander into the house for dinner.

24

MASON

The monitor glowsblue on the counter next to me. Theo’s sleeping on his back, arms thrown up by his head, sleep sack wrinkled around him.

Abby stands next to me at the sink, drying dishes while I wash. The kitchen lights are low, the window above the sink dark enough to reflect us back. She hums along to the music playing from the speaker in the corner of the kitchen, some folksy guitar cover song.

I watch her reflection as she stacks plates, the motion steady and practiced. Her hair’s coming loose from its knot, a few strands falling into her eyes. She blows them away and pretends not to notice I’m looking.

The silence between us is comfortable, but it’s laced with something else tonight. I keep catching her gaze in the glass, both of us too aware of each other.

She finishes drying a sippy cup and sets it on the counter. “Would it be crazy if I stayed?”

The words land like a dropped glass.

Water drips from my hands into the sink, steam curling up around my knuckles. “What?”

She shrugs, eyes on the counter. “If I didn’t go back, I mean.”

My chest tightens. Water rushes from the tap, unnoticed. “To Seattle?”

She barely dips her head in a nod.

I shut off the water and brace my hands on the edge of the sink.

I want to say no, it wouldn’t be crazy. I want to saystay. But my head’s already filling with all the reasons she won’t. All the reasons she can’t.

They don’t make jobs like hers here. There’s no six-figure nonprofit, no gleaming tower with a panoramic view of Puget Sound. There’s a world here, but it’s not the one she’s been trained to run.

“What would you even do here?” That sounds harsher than I meant it. But it’s not judgment. It’s fear.

Because if she stays, and I get used to this—used toher—what happens when she changes her mind?

She forces a laugh, her fingers twisting in the towel as she turns away, shoulders reaching toward her ears. “Yeah, it’s a silly idea. Just—forget I even said anything.” She reaches up to put Theo’s cups in the cabinet.

Fuck.

The second the words leave her mouth, I feel them like a gut punch. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that—like she can’t be here.

She shrinks in on herself as she stretches to reach the shelf, all the light gone from her voice. That hopeful, quiet question—Would it be crazy if I stayed?—is already retreating, shoved back behind the same armor I’ve watched her carry since she got here.

No,absolutelynot.

I set the towel down and cross the kitchen in two long strides, my pulse thudding hard behind my ribs.

“Hey.” My voice is softer this time. Not rough or guarded. I reach out gently, fingers brushing her waist. I don’t pull, don’t crowd her—just give her space to choose.

“Don’t—don’t shut me out.”