Page 14 of The Promises We Broke
She shifted in her chair, and I noticed the way Trace's attention immediately focused on her, the unconscious protectiveness in his posture. They'd found their way back to each other despite everything. They were having another child, building the life they should have had from the beginning.
"When's the baby due?" I asked, partly because I needed to change the subject before I completely broke down, and partly because seeing them together like this made something warm and hopeful unfurl in my chest.
"Only a few more weeks," Delaney said, her face lighting up. "We're excited. Cade's beside himself at the thought of being a big brother."
"That's..." I swallowed hard, trying to find words for the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "That's wonderful. Really."
"We'd like you to be part of it," Trace said quietly. "Part of this baby's life from the beginning. Part of Cade's life. Part of our family."
The offer hung in the air between us, more generous than anything I'd ever dreamed of receiving. The chance to be anuncle, to be present for the moments I'd helped steal the first time around.
"I don't know how to do that," I admitted. "I don't know how to be part of a family anymore."
"You'll learn," Delaney said with a gentle smile. "You show up, you make an effort, and you let people love you even when you don't think you deserve it."
"It's not that simple..."
"It's exactly that simple," Trace interrupted. "Gage, we've spent the last year learning how to be a family again. We've made mistakes, had fights, struggled to figure out how to blend our lives together. But we kept showing up for each other. That's all family is. Showing up."
I thought about that. About showing up, about being present instead of running when things got difficult. Staying and fighting for the people you loved instead of disappearing into the night.
The silence stretched between us, comfortable now instead of tense. These people were my family and they were offering me something I'd never thought I'd have again. A place in their lives, a chance to be the uncle Cade deserved, to be part of this baby's story from the beginning.
But even as gratitude filled my chest, another fear crept in. Because there were other people I'd hurt when I left, other relationships I'd destroyed with my cowardice.
"I keep thinking about everyone else I hurt when I left," I said quietly. "Not just you two. Billie... she's different now. Distant. And I can't tell if she's just being professional or if I damaged something in her that can't be fixed."
Trace and Delaney exchanged a look, and I saw something pass between them that I couldn't interpret.
"People change, Gage," Delaney said carefully. "Especially when they're hurt."
"Did I do that to her?" I asked, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at me. "Did I break something in her when I left?"
"You hurt her," Trace said bluntly. "Badly. But Billie's strong. She's built a good life here, made a career she's passionate about, formed relationships with people who care about her. She's not broken."
"But she's not the same."
"Would you want her to be?" Delaney asked gently. "Would you want her to still be the eighteen-year-old girl who was completely dependent on your love for her sense of self-worth? Or would you rather she became a strong, independent woman who knows her own value?"
The question hit me like a slap. Because the truth was, part of me did want her to be the same. Part of me wanted her to still be waiting for me, still carrying the torch of what we'd had. But that was selfish and unfair and completely at odds with what she deserved.
"She deserves better," I said quietly.
"Maybe," Trace said. "But that's not your decision to make. That's hers."
"I owe her an apology," I said quietly. "A real one. Not just for leaving, but for the way I left. For the coward I was. For making her wonder what she did wrong when it was never about her."
"That sounds like a good place to start," Delaney said gently.
"What if she doesn't want to hear it?" I asked. "What if she's moved past all of this and my apology just opens old wounds?"
"Then you respect that," Delaney said simply. "But Gage, everyone deserves to hear that their pain was acknowledged, that their hurt mattered. Even if she doesn't want anything more from you, she deserves to know that you understand what your leaving cost her."
I nodded, the weight of that responsibility settling on my shoulders. An apology wasn't about what I wanted or needed.It was about acknowledging the harm I'd caused and taking responsibility for it, regardless of whether it led to forgiveness.
"We should let you rest," Trace said, standing and helping Delaney to her feet. "But Gage? We meant what we said. We want you here. We want you to be part of our family, part of our children's lives. When you're ready."
"What if I'm never ready?" I asked. "What if I can't figure out how to stop feeling guilty about what I did?"
