Page 28 of The Promises We Broke
The vulnerability in his voice, the fear that his family might be preparing for his departure instead of planning for his permanence, made my chest tight.
"What makes you think they'd want you to leave?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Because that's what I do. I leave. And maybe they're smart enough to prepare for it instead of being blindsided when I disappear again."
"Are you planning to disappear again?"
The question came out sharper than I'd intended, loaded with personal investment I had no right to feel. But I couldn't take it back, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for his answer.
"No," he said quietly. "For the first time in eleven years, I'm not planning my next escape route. But they don't know that. They don't know that Barrett's birth changed something fundamental for me."
"Then maybe you should tell them."
"Maybe I should." He was quiet for a moment. "Or maybe they're planning something that will make staying easier. Something that will help me feel less like a guest and more like..."
"Like family," I finished.
"Like family," he agreed. "I don't want to ruin anything for them. I don't want to disappoint them."
I gathered my equipment, trying to process the shift in his demeanor, the way he was talking about staying and family and contributing. This was the most hopeful I'd heard him since he'd been back, and despite all my professional boundaries, I found myself hoping his optimism was justified. But it was more than I could allow myself to have. I couldn't afford to be invested in Gage to this level, not if I was going to keep my head and my heart intact.
"Same time Wednesday?" I asked as I reached the door.
"Wouldn't miss it," he said, and something in his voice made me look back.
He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read, something that might have been gratitude or might have been something deeper.
"Billie?" he called as I started to leave.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For not giving up on me when I was being difficult. For pushing me to follow the treatment plan even when I fought you on it."
"That's what good therapists do," I said automatically.
"Is that all you are? My therapist?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. Because no, that wasn't all I was. I was the girl who'd once loved him with her whole heart, who'd kept his letter for eleven years, who was fighting every day not to fall for him all over again.
But I was also a professional who couldn't afford to blur those lines, no matter how much my heart wanted to.
"I'll see you Wednesday," I said instead of answering, and walked away before he could ask any more questions I wasn't ready to answer.
As I drove back toward town, I caught myself glancing in the rearview mirror at the ranch growing smaller behind me. At the place where Gage was learning to heal, learning to hope, learning to believe he might deserve the love his family was offering.
And despite every wall I'd built, every defense I'd constructed, I found myself hoping he was right to believe it.
Because maybe some people were worth the risk of caring about.
Chapter 9
Gage
Sunday morning found me wide awake at five-thirty, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the ranch waking up around me. Three days since Barrett's birth, and I still couldn't quite believe it had happened.
The restless energy that had been building since the accident was stronger today. Not the desperate need to run that I'd carried for eleven years, but something else. Something that felt almost like... purpose. Like maybe I could be more than just someone who took up space while healing.
I hauled myself out of bed and made my way downstairs, moving around was getting easier with the crutch and Xander was talking about getting me into an aircast boot soon. Never thought I'd be excited about that idea. I was surprised to find the kitchen empty. Booker was usually up before dawn, but his coffee cup sat cold on the counter, and there were no signs of his normal breakfast routine. Even Val was missing from her basket in the corner.
