Page 129 of Under Southern Stars
I shake my head, struggling to articulate the storm inside. “That baby today…he wasn’t breathing at first.” My voice cracks. “All I could think about was another call, years ago. A pregnant woman in a car wreck—thirty-four weeks. We did CPR all the way to the hospital, but by the time we got there, she was gone. They tried a crash C-section, but…it was too late. We lost them both.”
The words tumble out, unstoppable now. “We were so close to that today. So damn close. If the improvised suction hadn’t worked, if the cord had been tighter around his neck, if you hadn’t recognized the issue immediately…”
“But it did work,” Sophia says softly. “You acted quickly, and the baby’s fine. Hannah’s fine.”
“This time,” I whisper. “This time we got lucky.”
To my horror, I feel tears welling, the professional distance I maintain in crises crumbling now in the aftermath. I turn away, not wanting her to see this breakdown on top of everything else.
“Jack,” Sophia says, her voice achingly gentle. “Jack. Look at me.”
I can’t. Shame and residual fear keep my gaze fixed on the ground.
Then her hand is on my arm, the first deliberate touch she’d initiated since the revelation. The simple contact shatters what remains of my control. The tears come in earnest then, my shoulders shaking with the force of them.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp between ragged breaths. “I’m so sorry.”
Without a word, Sophia moves closer, her arms encircling me. I stiffen in surprise before melting into her embrace, my face pressed against her shoulder as emotion overwhelms me.
We stay like that for long minutes, my tears gradually subsiding, her hand movingin slow, comforting circles on my back. When I finally pull away, embarrassed by my breakdown, her own eyes were wet with silent tears.
“I didn’t mean to—” I begin.
“It’s okay,” she interrupts. “You don’t always have to be strong, Jack. Not with me.”
The simple acceptance in her voice stuns me. After everything, after my deception, she is still offering comfort, still seeing beyond the surface to what lies beneath.
“I know about Troy,” she says quietly.
The abrupt change of subject catches me off-guard. “What!?”
“I know what he was posting online. What you confronted him about.” Her eyes hold mine steadily despite the tears still clinging to her lashes. “Emma showed me the screenshots.”
“What? How did this—” I struggle to process this unexpected turn.
“Troy apparently became the main character on the internet today. Some viral TikTok thing. Madison showed it to me.” A grim smile touches her lips briefly. “One thing led to another, and…Emma told me everything.”
I run a hand through my hair, mortified. “Sophia, I never meant for you to see those posts. The things he said—”
“About women. About me. About Madison.” Her voice hardens on her daughter’s name. “His own daughter, Jack. His own flesh and blood, and he sees her as a ‘liability’ to be ‘controlled.’”
The raw pain in her voice makes me ache to hold her again, but I remain still, uncertain of my place. “I’m sorry, Sophia. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, the question lacking accusation, just genuine curiosity.
I choose my words carefully. “It wasn’t my place to come between Madison and her father. I didn’t want to be the reason you had to restrict her access to him. I just…I couldn’t bear the thought of her finding those posts someday, seeing how he really views her.”
“So you confronted him yourself. Made him take it all down. And never said a word to me about any of it.” Her eyes search mine. “You protected Madison without seeking any credit.”
I shrug uncomfortably. “It was the right thing to do.”
“And by doing it quietly, you ensured Madison could still have a relationship with her father, strained as it might be.”She shakes her head slowly. “That level of consideration…after everything I thought about you when I discovered your deception…”
I reach for her hand, hope flickering at this small opening. “Sophia, I never meant to—”
She pulls back suddenly, her face shifting from gratitude to something harder, more resolute. “No, Jack. My turn to talk. And you are going to listen.”
She begins to pace, the carefully constructed walls around her heart starting to crumble, revealing the raw hurt beneath. “Do you have any idea what it felt like, standing in that house, meeting your mother who called you ‘Jackson,’ seeing the sheer scale of all this, and realizing that the man I’d let into my life, into Madison’s life, was a stranger?”
