Page 89 of Shattered Promise

“’Course.”

He laughs a little under his breath. “Didn’t peg you for the cry-it-out type.”

“I’m not.” It comes out clipped, and I school my tone. “He probably just woke up too early.”

I forgot Abby turned the volume up earlier. Said she didn’t want to worry about not being able to hear Theo.

She was just in here—bare legs and bare feet, and that sly little smile that still hasn’t left my skin. I should’ve noticed. Should’ve turned it down the second she walked out.

But I didn’t. Because I like having the monitor on.

Even when she’s watching Theo, even when Iknoweverything’s fine. I like the way it settles me. Seeing him breathe. Seeing her in my house.

Sometimes she’ll lean over the crib, tuck the sleep sack around him just so, her hair falling in a soft curtain while she hums under her breath—low and melodic.

It steadies something in me. Or it did. Now it feels like the air's gone tight around my ribs.

Beau’s watching me with raised brows and a hundred questions on his face.

And the longer I stand here, the louder the silence gets.

“You sure you’re okay, man?” Beau’s voice cuts through the thick silence like a scalpel.

I grunt, already moving toward the door. “Yeah. Theo’s just been cranky lately. Sleep regression, maybe. Cutting a tooth.”

Little white lies. Not untrue, not really. Heiscutting a tooth. And hehasbeen fighting that damn regression. But cranky? Not today. Not untilnow.

“Pfft. Doesn’t bother me,” Beau calls after me, jogging to keep up. “Vivie’s gonna be pissed she missed out on Theo time, though. She’s been asking to come over again, but I know you’ve been trying to get into a rhythm with your ma gone. I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off.”

I don’t answer. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m busy scrambling.

Every possible move plays out in my head like a disaster drill. There's no graceful way to keep him out of the house short of physically barring the door. And that would raise every red flag Beau owns.

So I let the screen creak open and step into the kitchen, heart hammering against my ribs like it wants out. Everything’s quiet. No wet footprints. No trace of Abby in the living room. I can only pray she’s not in the hallway. Or worse, walking out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

Theo whines softly from the nursery. The sound twists something in my chest.

I move fast, easing the door open and crouching beside his crib. His face is scrunched, red-cheeked and pouty, the kind of frustration that saysthis isn’t how I wanted to wake up. I scoop him up and press my lips to his head.

“Yeah, buddy,” I murmur. “Not what you were expecting, huh? I’d be pissed too if I thought I was getting Abby and got stuck with me instead.”

His little hand fists my shirt, grumbly and unimpressed.

Beau’s waiting in the kitchen, already pulling a chair out from the island. He chuckles, but it’s less mirth and more awe. “Man, I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know if I could do the solo parenting thing.”

“You could.”Because you’d have to. Because if you don’t do it, no one will.

He drags his hand over his jaw, covering a small smile. “Nah, man. Not like you. You’re fuckin’ killing it as a dad.”

I look anywhere but at my best friend, feeling heat prickle along the back of my neck. “Thanks, man.”

The pipes groan along one wall of the kitchen, over the sink. I cringe and refuse to glance toward my bedroom.

Beau’s brow arches. “So. Who’s in your shower?”

34

MASON

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