Page 55 of Shattered Promise

Abby beelines for the open lawn, skirting around blankets and people sprawled out.

She picks a patch of grass near the edge of the shade, halfway between the main stage and a line of food tents, and gestures with her chin. “Let’s park there.”

She grabs Theo and rifles in the diaper bag, pulling out a muslin blanket, and spreading it one-handed on the grass. Her movements are efficient, practiced, but there’s something loose in her shoulders now, a slackening I haven’t seen in her in a long time.

I set the guitar case down with care, then drop onto the grass beside her. She sits cross-legged, dress fanned out, arms bracing behind her as she tips her face up to the sun. For a second, all I can do is watch the light paint her hair gold and the curve of her neck and the shape of her smile, soft and secret. I feel it again, that urge—so overwhelming, I have to channel it somewhere safe, or I’ll do something irreversible.

I take Theo from the stroller and set him on the blanket where he crawls over my legs, and dives for the grass, giving me the perfect distraction from the heat gathering behind my neck. I let him climb me, his tiny hands scrabbling for purchase on myjeans, and Abby grins as he flops onto my thigh and immediately tries to eat a handful of grass.

“Hey, buddy, we can’t eat grass,” she says, plucking the grass from his grip and flashing him a silly face.

He makes a sound—a delighted, gurgly offense—and tries again, relentless. Abby’s laugh is low, a little wild, her eyes bright with the kind of happiness that can’t be faked. I feel it echo in my chest. I’d let this kid try to eat the entire lawn if it meant keeping that sound alive for another minute.

She leans in to wipe the drool off Theo’s chin, and her hair swings forward, sunlight catching on the flower crown that’s somehow still perched on her head. I have to look away before I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. Instead, I focus on Theo, who’s now chewing on his fist.

Then the band on the stage starts up, the first notes of a mandolin cutting through the park and sending a ripple across the crowd. Theo’s head snaps up. He freezes, eyes wide, then lets out a startled giggle and starts bouncing where he sits. He wobbles on his diapered butt, flapping both arms like he’s trying to take flight. The music picks up, a bright, rollicking tempo, and Theo rocks back and forth, an uncoordinated but totally committed dance.

Abby cracks up, her laugh going high and loud this time. She claps along, encouraging him, and Theo doubles down, looking at her like he’s making sure she’s watching.

“He’s got your rhythm,” she says, flashing me a wink.

I pitch my voice low, feeling the corner of my mouth curve upward. “Are you trying to talk shit, Trouble?”

“Me?” She presses her hand against her chest like she’s offended, but it’s all an act. Her grin gives her away immediately. “I’d never. I’m simply pointing out that I remember the time you and Beau thought you’d be the next backup dancers andtaped yourselves learning some dance routine. You even roped in Graham, if I remember correctly.”

I bark out a laugh—loud and sharp, so sudden I startle Theo. He gets over it quickly, giggling, then tipping sideways into Abby’s lap, rolling like a drunken seal.

The memory hits me so hard I have to brace myself with one hand on the grass. I can see it—the three of us in the Carter’s unfinished basement, carpet squares peeling from the concrete, a laptop propped on a milk crate, and some viral hip-hop tutorial playing over and over while we tried to coordinate our arms and legs into something resembling choreography.

“Holy shit,” I groan, covering my face with my free hand.

"That was supposed to be destroyed," I say, dragging my hand over my face. "The footage, I mean. Beau swore he'd delete it years ago."

Abby wipes tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, her shoulders shaking. "Beau? Not only did henotdelete it—he showed it at my graduation party. Toeveryone."

I groan again, but it's a hollow protest. The memory isn't even embarrassing now, not really—just another thread in the long, tangled rope of our lives together. I feel the knot of it in my chest, the way it tugs me back to all the versions of ourselves we’ve been to each other over the years.

“Shit. I can’t believe he kept that.” I shake my head, and the words come out softer than I mean.

Theo’s crawling again, this time toward the edge of the blanket, where the grass gives way to clover. He pauses, fascinated by a stray dandelion fluff seed drifting past his face.

Abby sits up and scoops him into her lap, tucking her knees around him like a fortress, and for a split second, I see a whole future unspool—a hundred lazy Saturdays, this exact patch of grass, a dozen small and perfect moments strung together until a whole life unfolds.

She catches me staring, her smile slipping a little as worry creases her brows. “You okay?”

I shake my head a little bit, but the image of a life stays burned into my brain. “Fuckin’ perfect,” I murmur.

Theo pushes up to his knees, wobbly and determined. He gets a grip on Abby’s dress and uses it to haul himself upright, his little toes digging into the blanket. For a second, he just stands there in awe of himself, swaying like a baby giraffe, and then he grabs for Abby’s hands, clutching them in his fists.

She laughs and lets him pull her closer. He bounces in place, knees bent and unsteady, then starts this weird, jerky dance—half squat, half stamp, all joy. And he’s not letting go of her hands

“Someone wants to dance,” she says, grinning at me.

She’s got Theo by the wrists, tiny arms out like he’s steering her. She scoops him up and settles him on her hip, holding his one hand like they’re going to perform a ballroom dance. She sways and dips him, and he cackles so loud, the people five feet away look over with matching grins.

His face is pure delight, cheeks red and mouth wide enough to swallow the world. He’s not the only one—it’s like every time she laughs, something inside me shakes loose and starts again.

I let myself have this. Just for a minute, just this one small pocket in time. The three of us on the grass, music curling in the air, Abby dancing with my son.

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