Page 117 of Hero for the Holidays

“No. Not you.”

“What is it?”

“When I see you with her, I can’t help but wonder if you’re right. If you would’ve been a great dad. From the beginning. And I tell myself... I tell myself it was you. And us. And my family. And your father. But in the end... I was scared that I was going to fail. I couldn’t handle that. I was so scared of being the one to fail her, because my relationship with my own mother was just so bad, and I...I wonder if I really wasn’t strong enough to give her to you. To have her here, to have you take care of her. What if that’s what it was? What if I was being selfish? Because look, here we are together, and everything is beautiful. But look at all she’s been through, this poor little girl. She lost her parents, and just seeing her face when she saw Sunday...”

“Hey,” he said. “Maybe it would’ve been fine. Us trying. We would’ve made mistakes. We would’ve been poor as shit. But maybe it would’ve been okay. Or maybe it would’ve been the destruction of us. Because some people overcome and some people don’t. The thing is, Fia, we can’t know. And we can grieve for what might’ve been. God knows I did. Not well. Not fairly. But I did. We can grieve for what might’ve been. But all that really exists is what it is. That girl is who she is because of what you gave her. And she’s awesome. You didn’t take her parents from her. You gave her a chance. You’re a fucking great mom, Fia. From conception to now, you are a fucking great mom. You’re right. You made the hard choice. The complicated one.”

Fia drew a shaky breath. “You know what’s funny, having you angry at me across the ranch made it easier for me to not be angry at myself. You were so unfair to me. Just so damned unfair, and then I never had to attack myself, because I knew you were doing it. I felt so justified. And when you forgave me, all this other shit just sort of started to bubble up. I think it’s because there’s no balance now, and now I’m free to question myself. To ask honestly how I might’ve hurt you. And to care about it. You being fair really messed things up. Because when you made me the villain, I got to be more secure in my heroism. It gave me something to fight against. And now I’m just fighting against myself. My own sadness. My own grief. I love her so much, and I feel so aware of the time that I’ve missed with her because she ended up with us now. And it makes me wonder what the point is in a way that I never would have if...”

“I know. I get it. I think we can feel both. Happy that we have this now. Wistful about what we didn’t get. But it would’ve had to be another life, Fia. Another time. And we didn’t get another life. We got this one. But we have her now. Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s life. In all of its great and glorious messiness. Maybe it’s not as simple as right and wrong. It’s just making choices. The best ones that you can. The best ones that you can at the time. Because none of us can see the future. And we can only see the past through our own perspective. But goddammit, nobody tried harder than you. To make the best choice. To be the best mother. Nobody tried harder.”

She dissolved then, right there in his arms, because they were safe. Because he was Landry. And she felt sort of undone by the strangeness of this. That he was one of the people who meant the very most to her, and that he was here in the house. After being lost to her for so much time. Much in the same way that Lila was. And it all felt so fragile. And so important. So essential.

She was so scared of breathing and breaking it all.

She didn’t know how to make that feeling go away.

“We already have too much to hold without holding guilt too,” he whispered. “You’re not my enemy, Fia. You’re my partner.”

“You’re not my enemy either.”

As declarations went, it was kind of a weird one. But it suited them. It was necessary.

And there were other words that crowded her throat. Things she wanted to say, but they were far too scary in this moment. Because everything was too scary. High stakes.

When they were kids, they’d been playing with things that were too big for them, but it hadn’t gotten any smaller. They were going to have to find a way to expand to accommodate all this. They were parenting a child, but one with full consciousness. One who was watching them. Learn and fail and succeed, and she would always remember it. At least babies didn’t know if you were terrible at parenting.

At least they didn’t remember your every error as you tried.

But a thirteen-year-old always would.

She had her own lumps and scars; she had her own baggage.

Dammit. This was just so hard.

“I’m with you,” he said.

“I’m with you too.”

It was like getting married. Out there on that porch. These were promises that were deeper than any piece of paper.

It was spiritual. And it was real.

He held her. She held him back.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“It’s my pleasure. It damn well is.”

“You’re a great dad.”

She felt his chest hitch. “It’s one of the only things I ever wanted,” he said, the words husky. “To know that I could be that. To know that I could love somebody. That it wasn’t broken from all of that. But there was a reason for me to be here.”

“There are so many reasons.” She had trouble speaking after that. Because she was all feelings and deep, wordless need.

Because they lived in this house and it wasn’t on fire. But she still somehow felt...distant.

Like she was in a place where he couldn’t quite reach her. And she didn’t know what wall to tear down, what door to open, what window to crack.

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