Page 30 of Soaring and Steadfast

She was somewhere else.

Lost.

Memories pulled her under, grief tightening around her like a vice. He could see it—the way her shoulders curled inward, the way her breath hitched but never fully came.

He turned, his movements slow and deliberate, until he was facing her fully. Then, without a word, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in. A silent offering. A shelter against whatever storm raged inside her.

She shattered.

A muffled, broken wail tore from her throat, buried against his shoulder as she trembled violently in his hold. The force of it nearly undid him and sent a deep ache spiraling through his chest.

“I’ve got you…” His voice was barely more than a whisper, thick and raw. “I’ve got you, Lila…”

These weren’t tears of joy. They weren’t born from the beauty of new life or the happiness of a friend’s triumph. They were older, deeper—wounds left untouched for far too long. Pain never spoken, never given the space to exist. Until now.

So he held her.

Not because words would fix it.

Not because he had answers.

But because sometimes, the greatest act of love wasn’t speaking. It was staying. It was being the foundation when someone had lost theirs. It was holding them steady as they fought their battles—until they realized they weren’t fighting alone.

And heaven help him… he cared. More than he should. More than he could ever say, praying that he didn’t end up doing the same thing months from now when Lila destroyed him.

“Shhh… I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, the only anchor in the storm of her grief. He held her close, feeling every tremor that wracked her frame, absorbing each quiet, heart-wrenching sob as if he could bear the weight of her pain for her.

Time stretched between them, measured not in seconds, but in the ragged breaths she took against his shoulder. When she finally pulled away, his arms loosened reluctantly, and he felt the cold absence of her warmth instantly.

She wiped at her eyes with shaking hands, her gaze skittering away, and the pang of it hit him deep—because he understood. She was ashamed, not of her tears, but of needing someone. She didn’t trust him yet.

Not fully.

That truth lodged itself in his chest, heavy and unmovable, but he didn’t push. Trust was built in inches, not leaps.

And he would wait.

When she stood, he rose beside her without hesitation, their hands finding each other again in the silence. No words were spoken, but his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles, a quiet reassurance, a vow unspoken. He walked with her down the hallway, his eyes flicking to her profile, watching the way she forced herself to hold steady, to swallow back the wreckage of her emotions. She was stronger than she knew.

As they reached the nursery window, his breath caught.

A small basin sat beneath the soft glow of fluorescent lights, a card labeledBaby Cavanaughpropped at the edge. Inside, swaddled in white and pink, lay a tiny bundle. A fragile head peeked out beneath a knit cap, and his lips twitched in amusement. The baby was all cheeks, all soft folds, and delicatesighs, wrapped so tightly in a receiving blanket that only the barest hint of her features could be seen.

A hushed, reverent whisper broke the silence.

“Oh my…” Lila’s voice wavered, thick with emotion. “Those cheeks, Louis…”

A soft chuckle escaped him, warmth blooming in his chest. “I know…”

Without thinking, his arm moved, settling against her hip, pulling her close—not in possession, not in expectation, but because it felt natural. Because for the first time in a long time, something felt right.

She turned then, and his breath stilled.

Her eyes, glassy and full of something raw and unguarded, met his, and the world around them fell away. The walls she so carefully kept in place had cracked, just for a moment, just enough for him to see past them. And what he saw stole the air from his lungs.

Something passed between them—silent, powerful, undeniable. Her lips parted, but no words came. They didn’t need to.

“Beautiful…”

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