Page 56 of Small Town Daddy

I’d hoped to head back to Small Falls tonight. I missed Lucy desperately. But it truly felt like Emily was in crisis right now.

"Alright," I said finally, swallowing hard. My voice was hard enough to cut through the tension hanging between us. "I can stay tonight, but we need to be clear about something."

Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and glassy, like a deer caught in headlights. She looked so small sitting there on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, fingers trembling against the fabric of her sweatpants.

I stayed standing. It felt safer that way. A line between us.

"Lucy," I started, pausing just long enough for the name to land. "I'm in a relationship with someone named Lucy. I care about her. A lot."

Her lips parted, something sharp flashing in her expression before it dulled again. She swallowed thickly. "Do you love her?" Her voice was soft, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

"Yes," I said without hesitation. Honest. Firm. No room for interpretation. I hadn’t been ready for the question, but the answer was instant.

Fuck.

I loved her.

I wished that she knew it before Emily of all people.

Emily’s bottom lip quivered as she nodded slowly, staring down at her hands. For a second, I thought she might break again, but instead, she exhaled shakily, wiping at the corner of her eye. "Okay," she whispered. "I get it."

"Alright," I said finally. "Just as friends. There are boundaries, Emily. You need to respect them."

She nodded again, more firmly this time. "I will," she said, her voice steadier now.

"Good," I muttered, glancing toward the kitchen. "Let me make us something to eat."

***

The rest of the evening passed without much incident.

I cooked. We ate. There wasn’t much talking. From my perspective, I was just here to make sure she was safe.

Later, she went to bed.

I sank into the lumpy couch, the springs groaning under my weight. The dim light from the streetlamp outside filtered through the gap in the curtains, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room. My phone felt heavy in my hand as I stared at Lucy’s contact photo—a candid shot of her laughing at something I’d said, her green eyes crinkled with joy.

I wanted to hear her voice. To tell her everything. But it was late, and I didn’t want to wake her. She deserved better than a rushed explanation over a crackling line. Instead, I typed out a quick text:

Hope you're well. Miss you. Will explain everything tomorrow.

The message sat on the screen for a moment before I hit send. A tiny part of me hoped she’d respond right away, but nothing came. I set the phone down on the coffee table, staring at it like it might light up any second. It didn’t.

Leaning back, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the faint smell of stale alcohol clinging to the air. My boots were still on, but I couldn’t be bothered to take them off. Sleep wouldn’t come easy, not here, not with everything weighing on my mind. Emily’s hollow eyes flashed behind my lids. Her voice—small, broken—echoed in my ears. How had things gotten so bad for her? And why the hell did I feel like I owed her anything?

The minutes dragged. I shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t make the springs dig into my back. One arm slung over my face, blocking out the faint glow of the streetlight. My phone stayed silent, and eventually, exhaustion started pulling at the edges of my thoughts.

When I finally drifted off, it wasn’t peaceful.

***

I woke to the sharp buzz of my phone rattling against the coffee table. Over and over. Relentless. Each vibration digging into me like a needle. Groggy, I rubbed my face and reached for it.

"Lucy" flashed across the screen in bold letters. Missed calls. Texts. My stomach twisted before I even opened them.

Marcus?

What’s going on?

---