She meets my gaze over the top of his head. I feel for her. Finny has accidentally called me Daddy a few times too.
“Happy birthday, Finn,” she says. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Cole watches the exchange, palm over the center of his chest like his heart hurts viscerally. Cole’s like that. When his body hurts, he won’t say shit, but he can’t hide his emotions from me.
“Do you think she’s sad because I called her mommy?” Finn asks.
“Nah,” I say. “You never make anyone anything but happy.”
“It happens,” Cole says thoughtfully. “Sometimes I call her mommy too.”
“Yeah, right.” I wallop Cole with a pillow.
“Hey!” Cole slings it back.
Finn rips a cushion from the couch and bonks Cole’s head with it. I should probably tell him to settle down, but I don’t know… Cole kind of deserves it.
NINE
Cole
Finn fellasleep clutching Seb’s mitt. When Morgan transferred him to bed, Finn looped his arms around his neck, filling me with loss and longing for what shouldn’t be, what will never be.
Seb should be here. Not me.
I shouldn’t have come tonight, and I definitely shouldn’t have stayed, but the kid is impossible to say no to, especially when Morgan looks so sad and Shay is taking care of my man the way I should be.
I’m such a selfish bastard.
Being here feels wrong, and I don’t just mean sharing the guest room at my dead brother’s house with my estranged husband. Being alive feels wrong. If I had died, I wouldn’t be in pain, and Morgan would have already moved on, and Finn wouldn’t have lost both parents.
Morgan’s cologne simmers in the small guest room. It’s my fault he’s crammed in here. I should tell him to come get his stuff from the loft, give him the closure he deserves, but if he moves out completely, then I’ll have to confront the reality that we’re over.
His laptop is shut on the small desk by the window. I’m tooafraid to snoop. Is he researching divorce attorneys? Poring over our finances since I’ve neglected all financial obligations as much as I’ve neglected him?
I stub my toe on a dumbbell under the bed. “Fuck.”
There’s a book on Morgan’s bedside table with a bunch of sticky notes stuffed in it. On the cover, one larger hand holds a smaller one.
“Hurt, Not Broken,” I mumble and flip it over. It’s a book on parenting kids who have suffered immense trauma.
Another reason why I shouldn’t have come at all. Why come around again only so Finn can lose me when I leave?
Morgan slips inside and closes the door softly. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here when I got back,” he whispers, eying me warily, like he’s not sure if I’m going to rake my nails down his back or rake him over the coals.
“Me neither.”
He laughs and shuffles from one foot to the other, then fluffs the pillows on his side of the bed.
I groan. “You’re not preparing for round two, are you?”
“No more pillow fights. I promise. Just nervous, I guess.”
Bering Sea fishermen don’t get nervous. That’s why it’s so hard to live on land. There’s no dopamine here. I used to rile Morgan up so he could fuck me hard enough to scare me.
I turn away and pull off my hoodie. Lawrence didn’t give me enough time to change into something else, and Morgan hasn’t commented on it, but he has to recognize it.