Page 23 of Shattered Promise

“I was just wondering if I could use you and Mr. Carter for this school project,” Vivie says, voice small but steady.

“Of course,” Hazel replies, already smiling. “What’s the project?”

“It’s a family tree thing. We’re supposed to chart out everyone. And since I don’t have a dad and my mom doesn’t really wannabea mom, my tree’s really small. Beau said I could use his family too, but I . . . wanted to make sure it was okay.”

Hazel reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. “Oh, sweetheart. Of course it’s okay.”

Lucas adds, “You’re part of the family, of course you can use our tree.”

“Okay,” Vivie says softly, visibly relaxing. "Maybe we could work on it this week? I have to get it done soon."

"Of course, honey. We can start after dinner tonight if you want," Hazel says.

Vivie's shoulders relax and she smiles as she reaches for a forkful of lasagna. “I was wondering about Mason and Theo? And Theo’s mom? Where do they go on the tree? Are they cousins or something? I’ve always wanted cousins.”

The conversation pauses for a heartbeat. Not dramatically, but enough to feel it. Like the pause between thunder and rain.

Vivie’s cheeks flush. She turns to Eloise with wide eyes, her fork gripped too tight in her hand. “Did I say something wrong?”

I shake my head before Eloise can answer. “Nah, kiddo. You didn’t say anything wrong. Theo's mom didn't want to be a mom either, but unfortunately, we're not cousins.”

Beau cuts in, voice firm but easy. “But they’re family.”

Vivie nods and twirls her fork around on her plate for a minute while conversation picks back up.

Eloise leans back in her chair, her gaze on me and her voice low. “Hey, at least you don't have to worry about custody battles."

It’s not cruel, and she's not wrong. There are moments—quiet, private ones—when I’ve felt almostgratefulthat Theo’s mom isn’t around. That I don’t have to split holidays or fight over routines. That he’s mine,onlymine. But the second that thought surfaces, guilt crashes in behind it. Because I know what it’s like to be the kid left behind.

And I’d give anything for Theo not to feel that.

Beside me, Theo lets out a low whine. The kind that signals we’re in dangerous territory. I glance over and realize his tray’s mostly empty. He’s got one noodle left and it’s clinging to his fingers like it knows what’s coming.

I grab a few more soft bites from my plate and cut them small. “Hang on, bud. Reinforcements incoming.”

Theo hums contentedly as I load up his tray again. He immediately reaches for a chunk of garlic bread and starts gnawing on it like a squirrel hoarding for winter.

“He’s such a good eater,” Cora says from further down the table, resting her chin in her hand with a smile. “And so calm. Like, unreasonably well-behaved.”

“Give it time,” I say, half-laughing. “He’s just lulling me into a false sense of security.”

Laughter ripples across the table again—easy and familiar. I look around the table—at the noise, the laughter, the familiarity—and I realize how much I miss it when I’m gone. But I also know it’s never really beenmine. This house, this family. It’s something I borrow.

And borrowed things always have to be returned.

Hazel chuckles as she slides the lasagna dish closer to me. “He looks just like you, you know.”

I glance at Theo, really look, and something catches in my throat. “Maybe. My mom says the same thing, but I think she sees what she wants to see.”

“How’s your mom doing?” Lucas asks, his tone soft but steady.

“She’s good,” I say. “Spending a few months with Cal.”

“His team still killing it this year?” Graham asks.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “They’ve got a real shot at the championship.”

I leave it at that.

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