Page 37 of Can’t Let You Go (Ivy Ridge #3)
FALLON
M y mind whirs with all the information Jason shared.
I knew he carried so much in his heart, in his mind, but I never realized the extent of it.
I rest my head on his shoulder, holding him close to me.
He is in so much pain, and I want to do what I can to ease it.
I’m reminded by our time in college. This is that man.
He still exists. The man who will fight tooth and nail to do what he can for his family, for those he loves.
The man who doesn’t shove down his emotions and pain so no one can see who he really is.
He finally looks at me. Our faces are so close I can see the wet streaks still on his cheeks and make out the small gold flecks in his chocolate brown eyes. I cup his jaw with my hand, swiping at his wet cheek again.
“You are an amazing dad. Lennie could not have lucked out anymore if she tried. It’s horrible that Talia isn’t here to see her daughter grow up, but addiction is a disease. She might want to be here, but she can’t.”
He nods into my palm.
“Tell me you believe me,” I urge. “I need to hear you say those words, Jase. ”
“I’m a good dad,” he responds, and it’s so half-hearted.
“Not good enough,” I tell him. “You need to believe it.”
“I’m a good dad.” This time, he says it with more gumption, and I can tell he’s starting to believe me, and himself. Only then, he surprises me. “Your turn.”
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
“Your turn,” he repeats. “You’re a good mom. Say it. Believe it.”
I shake my head. “This wasn’t about me.” I lean back, my anxiety churning.
“No, but we’re doing it anyway.” Jason reaches forward, cupping the back of my neck, bringing my forehead to his. “Say you’re a good mom.”
I shake my head. The insecurity is burning a hole in my chest. “We’re more similar than we think, you and me,” I tell him instead.
“Sunshine,” Jason uses that name again, his eyes no longer wet with tears, but glistening with a new determination. “Say it. I did. It’s your turn.”
“I’m a good mom.” Like his first try, it’s half-hearted.
I shake my head right away, knowing it’s not good enough.
“I’m a good mom,” I repeat, this time, slowly believing in myself.
Believing him. Believing the words I made him say was one thing, but saying them about myself? It’s hard. But I know it’s true.
My daughter is happy. She is healthy. I am doing everything in my power to keep it that way.
I should be reinforcing the boundary I’ve worked so hard to build between us, yet here I am, ready to use a sledgehammer to knock it down.
I’m sick of fighting whatever this is. I’m so sick of it, so sick of trying to keep myself from him.
It’s making things harder in the long run.
Why can’t I be a good mom and also do something for myself?
Why can’t I be a good mom and have a partner?
The fear is still there. Presley had a father figure in her life, and he walked away without a second glance.
What if it happens again? Will she be able to cope with it a second time?
Can I open myself up to this and let the fear take a backseat?
Can I risk both mine and my daughter’s hearts for this?
“Fuck yeah, you are,” Jason states, and he’s shifting, cupping my face in his hands.
“Daddy?” A small voice calls from the living room.
“Coming!” he calls, but doesn’t move. He holds me still, eyes locked on mine. Jase presses a long, lingering kiss to my lips, holding me close. Against my lips, he whispers, “I will make this up to you.”
I nod against his forehead, wishing I could stay in his arms longer. Jason grabs his tiara and his necklace from the counter and heads into the living room, sitting down next to the squealing girls.