Page 129 of Malachi
“That’s different and you know it,” she worded carefully, her tone much quieter and serious.
“How?” I questioned. What was wrong with me? My filter was gone, and my words flowed far too freely alongside my frustration.
“I run to find freedom,” she explained. And I knew she was right.
“Maybe that’s what I’m doing,” I shrugged defensively.
“It’s not,” she scoffed.
“Oh, really?” I spat back.
“Yes really. You’re running because you’re afraid of this conversation. You’re afraid to be that vulnerable with me. But you don’t need to be. Not now. Not after everything.”
Her words struck a chord inside of me, way down deep. My hand paused on the door of the truck, realizing she had a point. The stubborn, asshole side of me wanted to push her away, to push this conversation away, but she was right. Whether or not I wanted to admit it.
“It’s time to stop running, Malachi,” she spoke carefully. “We don’t have to anymore.”
“Unless we want to,” I muttered, needing even a single moment of levity if I was going to get through this conversation.
“That may be true, but that’s not the conversation we’re having.” Her words were clear, but I could still hear the smile in her voice. “Your ability to be a good father is not dependent on having had a good father. That goes against everything parenting is.”
“How do you figure?” I asked, my tone calmer now.
“Because parenting is all about breaking cycles. You do your best to be a good parent, taking the good things your parents did and tossing out the bad. You replace those bad things with better choices. Generation by generation, we just strive to be better,” she explained softly, her arms finally uncrossing as she turned in the seat towards me, removing her seatbelt.
“I’d have to throw basically everything out,” I chuckled humorlessly.
“Then that’s what you would do. And you would do it. Want to know how I know?” She asked, reaching a hand out and touching my forearm gently.
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to turn and look at her just yet.
“Because I watch you with your brothers, with us, with that little girl who hasn’t even been born yet. You’re the most protective, loving man I’ve ever met.” I didn’t want to believe her. I wanted to push her words away.
“I’m a grumbly, grouchy grizzly bear,” I groused.
“Yes, and you protect your family just as fiercely as any bear I’ve ever met,” she giggled. The moment of anger had passed. I could feel the tension dissolving out of my muscles.
“And how many bears have you met?” I teased her, turning to look at her.
“You know what I mean, Malachi,” she scoffed, but she was smiling now. I could hear it in her voice.
“You really think I’d make an okay father?” I questioned after a momentary pause.
“Okay? I think you’d be an amazing father.” She spoke emphatically, as though any other truth were entirely impossible.
“But you aren’t sure you want kids?” I asked her again, needing to hear her answer with a more open ear and a far more open heart.
“I don’t know. Right now, I feel like I need to focus on just figuring out who I am, outside of Zion.”
“I feel that. Really deeply,” I agreed.
“Exactly. And besides, I’m only eighteen. Most days I feel like I’m still barely more than a kid myself, in some ways. I guess what I’m saying is that it’s not off the table, but there’s definitely a pin in it. It’s a topic for discussion down the road. Is that okay with you?” she continued, her hands moving around as she spoke.
I took her hand, weaving my fingers between hers and bringing it to my lips for a gentle kiss.
“More than okay with it, love,” I whispered.
“Okay, good,” she sighed with relief. “You know, we should probably get inside. Ollie may have destroyed the house by now.”
