Page 37 of Breakaway Daddies

The thought is absurd, and I can’t help but shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

But then the other side creeps in. The quieter voice.

What if we could make it work?

What if love doesn’t have to follow a template?

I rub my temples, exhaling a long, shaky breath. My brain feels like a ping-pong match—one second I’m imagining a nursery painted in punk colors with a bassinet next to a terrarium, and the next I’m googling discreet clinics and wondering how quickly I could disappear if I needed to.

I could end it. That’s the truth. I could quietly, cleanly erase the whole situation before it unravels my life. No judgment. No shame. Just a decision. I’d be the only one to know.

But then… would I really forget? Would I ever stop wondering what kind of little human we might’ve made together?

I’ve cared for lizards and snakes before. How different can a baby really be?

Stupid thought. Babies need more than heat lamps and frozen mice. They need everything. Constantly. Forever.

And yet some small, strange part of me wants that. The chaos. The change. The chance to build something lasting. I don’t know what my future looks like. I don’t know what I want it to be.

But I know I’m the one who gets to decide. No one else.

Pushing myself to stand, I wipe the dampness from my cheeks with the back of my hand. This is my life, my decision. I square my shoulders, determination settling within me.

I can handle this.

Iwillhandle this.

Even if I don’t know exactly how yet.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Thomas

Jinx has beenoff all night, her usual spark dimmed to a mere flicker as she stands by the kitchen counter.

Normally, she’d be poking fun at Rowan about his physical therapy sessions or flipping Bruno off with a playful laugh when he broods too much. But tonight, her eyes seem distant, lost in thoughts that weigh her down.

Earlier, Rowan mentioned she had talked with her brother. I can’t help but wonder if that conversation left a mark. Did he deliver some bad news? Was there something in his words that unsettled her?

I sidle up next to her as she methodically seasons the steaks, feigning an interest in her meticulous work. “Need a hand?” I ask, trying to pierce through the fog that surrounds her.

She barely glances up, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Nah, I got it,” she replies, her voice lacking its usual bounce.

I meet her gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “C’mon, Jinx. Let me help out. I can at least mash some potatoes or something.”

She exhales slowly through her nose. After a moment, she relents, her shoulders sagging slightly as she hands me a peeler. “Fine. Peel those.”

As I get started, I sense a small victory in her concession, a first step toward breaking through the wall she’s built around herself.

Progress.

Bruno, sensing my intention to engage her in conversation, shifts his focus and moves to assist Rowan with his physical therapy exercises on the couch.

It’s a refreshing change, seeing Bruno step away from his usual gruff demeanor to offer some genuine help. He carefully positions Rowan’s leg, but before he can proceed, Jinx swoops in with her usual precision and attention to detail.

“No, not like that,” she instructs. “You’ll pull his quad—God, Bruno, gently.”

Bruno mutters something unintelligible under his breath, his brow furrowed in mild irritation, but he adjusts his grip according to Jinx’s guidance. Rowan, lying back on the couch with his leg elevated, rolls his eyes dramatically.

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