Page 115 of Where We Call Home

Controlled breathing was the one thing I clung to. Not the nonstop beeping of monitors echoing down the hall, not the parade of nurses bustling in and out of my room to check my vitals. Just in and out, over and over. If I stayed inside my head, maybe I could make it through this.

We made it to the emergency room in record time, thanks to Rhodes. Even with me unraveling in the passenger seat, he’d remained a steady anchor, his calm presence grounding me in a way I didn’t think possible. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t let my panic disrupt his focus. He was solid, everything I desperately wanted to be in that moment.

Now, I needed space. The constant coming and going, the poking and prodding—it was too much. Overwhelming. I’d sent everyone away: my mom, my friends, even Rhodes. Peace and quiet were all I could ask for right now.

Being alone was my comfort zone. It had always been. Solitude sharpened my thoughts, let me navigate the chaos of life on my own terms. I was a lone wolf by nature, fiercely independent. Somewhere along the way, that had started to change.

Meeting Rhodes had shifted something in me. For years, I’d kept everyone at arm’s length: my mom, my closest friends, anyone who tried to peer too deeply into the walls I’d built. However, with him, it had been different. I let him in without hesitation, drawn to something in him that felt achingly familiar, like a forgotten song I’d always known. He felt like home.

Lying here in this hospital bed, ready to bring this child into the world, the realization struck me hard: Rhodes reminded me of my father. His gentle strength, his unwavering patience—it all stirred memories I hadn’t dared to confront in years. He didn’t shy away from me, even when I was at my most vulnerable. He stayed persistent and steady, pulling me back to a time when I felt safe, when I wasn’t so afraid of loss.

I think I fell in love with him the day he sat beside me on his couch, wrapped me in his arms, and asked me about my dad. He saw the broken pieces of me, the ones I tried so hard to hide, and instead of turning away, he wanted to understand. He wantedme.

For most of my adult life, I’d run—traveled as far as I could from this town, from the pain of attachment because the closer you got, the greater the risk of losing. And I couldn’t bear that again. Losing my dad had carved out a part of me that I thought would never heal. It left me convinced that wanting anything, love or connection, only brought heartbreak. I thought I’d buried that fear, grown past it, but it had lingered, festering beneath the surface all along.

And then there was Rhodes. He taught me something I hadn’t dared believe in: that love could survive the wreckage. After everything he’d been through, his own feelings of abandonment, of being unwanted, he still found the courage to open his heart. He didn’t let the scars define him. That night in his basement, when he let me see him stripped bare, vulnerable in a way that mirrored my own fears, he gave me hope.

Hope that maybe, just maybe, love could be worth the risk.

Forty-Two

Ipaced back and forth, convinced I was wearing a path into the hospital floor. Theo had asked me to step out of her room, she needed a moment to collect herself. I hadn’t even thought to argue. She was about to face something monumental, something terrifying, and if space was what she needed, I’d give it to her. Even if every part of me ached to be by her side, holding her hand, whispering that she wasn’t alone in this.

The waiting room felt impossibly small, even with all our friends and her mom there. Aspen, Boone, Penny, Logan, and even Mac were scattered across the stiff chairs, their quiet conversations blending into the background noise. Meanwhile, my thoughts were spinning out of control.

It reminded me of the last time we were here, the fear that had gripped me so tightly I could barely breathe. This time, fear had no place. This was supposed to be a moment of joy, of hope—a new life beginning. A baby girl. She wasn’t mine by blood, but that didn’t matter. No one could tell me she wasn’t mine in every way that counted. I’d watched her grow, watched her mom fight for her, for them both, with a strength that left me in awe. She was my family, and so was the woman in that hospital bed.

Since that day in the basement, I’d made a promise to Theo—a vow. I would take care of her, no matter what. She was my priority, my heart, and nothing in this world could change that.

I ran my hands over the back of my head, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease. My boots echoed against the worn linoleum, a sharp rhythm that matched the restless thrum in my chest. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, glaringly bright.

“Rhodes.”

The soft voice behind me startled me, pulling me from my frantic thoughts. I turned on my heels, heart racing as if it already knew who it was.

Theo’s mom stood in the hallway, hugging herself tightly. She’d arrived not long after us, promising to stay as long as we needed her.

“Hi, ma’am,” I greeted her, trying to steady my voice. Then I caught myself. “I mean, Sissy.”

A small smile curved her lips as she stepped closer, placing a warm hand on my arm. Gently, she guided me to the side of the hallway, away from the bustle of passing nurses and beeping monitors.

“If you don’t cut it out, you’re gonna drive yourself insane,” she said, her tone firm but kind.

She wasn’t wrong. Normally, I could rein in my racing thoughts, find some sense of control over my emotions. Not now. Not with Theo in there, and the weight of everything pressing down on me.

“I know,” I admitted, sighing as I dropped my head. My voice came out quieter than I intended. “I’m just impatient. I need everything to go smoothly. I need everyone to be okay.”

Sissy nodded thoughtfully, her eyes softening. “You know,” she began, “you remind me a lot of my husband.”

I blinked, tilting my head. The unexpected comparison triggered my curiosity. She must have noticed my confusion because she continued without missing a beat.

“He was so in tune with his emotions. Frank never let Theo face anything alone—he was always there, her rock. Where I… well, I was the rational one. The logical side of things. I’ve always struggled to share how I feel, to express my emotions openly. That’s where Theo gets it from.”

Her voice faltered for a moment, but she pushed through.

“When Frank died, Theo changed. She wasn’t my little girl anymore, and honestly, I didn’t know how to handle it. I did the only thing I could think of: I packed us up and moved. A new town, hours away from Oklahoma. A fresh start. I thought it might help, but she wasn’t the same, and neither was I. I was broken, and I didn’t have the tools to fix either of us. All I could do was try to be the best mom I could.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken grief. She sighed, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

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