Page 55 of Breakaway Daddies

“No, no, she was the team PT…” I mutter.

“The team PT?” Mom nearly shouts. “Goodness, I assume she’s not the team PT anymore, then?”

“Yeah, she’s not. She quit. She quit and…”

My words fall short, I don’t know if I can put my emotions into words that my mother would understand.

To my surprise, though, it seems she already does.

“You’re really sad she’s gone?”

“Yeah, I am. I think I loved her…”

“I could tell,” Mom says. “I’m glad the pictures weren’t more graphic than they were, but the way you were looking at her… the way you all were looking at her… I don’t know how that kind of relationship works, but I can also hear in your voice that you’re heartbroken.”

A silence wedges between us again, until Mom’s voice cuts through like the sun during a rainstorm.

“Does she make you happy?” my mom finally asks, her voice gentle yet probing.

I swallow hard, feeling the lump in my throat. “Yeah. More than anything,” I admit.

“Then you wait,” she says simply, her voice steady and reassuring. “If she comes back, she comes back. If she doesn’t… well, that’s a risk you take when you love someone.”

I stare blankly at the wall, the truth of her words settling over me like a heavy, unyielding cloak. “It’s not just about me, Ma. The team, Coach, the way people look at us now. This isn’t normal. It’s not?—“

She cuts me off with a snort, dismissing my concerns with a wave of her hand that I can almost see through the phone. “What? You don’t have enough money as a star athlete to weather a little bad press?”

I laugh, a reluctant chuckle escaping my lips despite myself. “It’s not about the money,” I reply, shaking my head even though she can’t see it.

“Then what is it about, baby?” Her voice lowers, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. “Because it sounds like you’re making a lot of excuses for why you shouldn’t be happy.”

I press my lips together, my fingers tightening around the phone as if it could somehow anchor me in this storm of emotions. “Get her back so she can make sure you heal up good,” she teases, her laughter a gentle balm to my soul.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, unable to suppress a small grin.

“Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Ma,” I respond, my voice full of warmth and affection.

We hang up, and I find myself staring at my phone once more, the screen glowing with unanswered messages to Jinx that seem to mock my uncertainty.

We don’t have to tell her about the baby yet, this conversation was a good starter…

I imagine telling mom about the baby and how different that conversation might be, but ultimately, I’m happy this one went better than expected.

I sit in my silent bedroom, the stillness only broken by the quiet hum of the ceiling fan. My mom’s words echo in my mind, circling like a persistent breeze.

She’s right. I can’t make Jinx want to be with us. I can’t force her to see that we could be a family, that she doesn’t have to face life’s challenges alone.

Jinx is a free spirit, always has been, and perhaps we were too much for her—too settled, too predictable. Like a bird in a cage, she probably felt trapped.

With a sigh, I rub my eyes with my palms as frustration builds. The last thing I ever wanted was to hold her back.

If she felt like we were suffocating her, then yes, leaving was probably the best thing for her. But god, it hurts deep inside, a dull ache that refuses to fade.

I glance at my phone once more, the screen glowing gently in the dark, displaying the unread messages that taunt me with their silence. With a resigned breath, I finally shut the screen off, plunging the room back into darkness.

If she’s happier on her own, going back to school and chasing whatever new dream she’s got, then I hope she soars into the sky like a bird released, free to fly wherever her heart desires.

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