Page 134 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
Small.
That’s what I feel, like I’m folding in on myself just to keep from being crushed under the weight of their shared disappointment.
I fucked them all over by getting knocked up.
It’s all my fault.
Jack shakes his head slowly, stepping back away from Liam before either of them can start swinging.
Something in me gives way then in a quiet, exhausted snap.
I’m too raw to keep standing here like this, debating on who to point the finger at.
I’m too tired to watch them all process the news and discuss it like it’s the burden they never asked for.
All your fault.
“I can’t—” My voice catches, and I have to start again. “Can you all please just go.”
Jack’s mouth presses into a thin line.
For a second, it looks like he might argue, but when he takes another look at me, his mouth seals shut.
He heads back for my bedroom, presumably to grab his clothes and get dressed.
Reece follows, his silence somehow heavier than Jack’s, and Liam is right behind him.
It takes them all less than five minutes to return and shuffle to the door, avoiding any amount of eye contact with me.
Jack pulls the door open and lets out a long sigh before disappearing into the hallway, Reece closely behind him.
Liam doesn’t move right away, hovering in that limbo space between the door and me, one hand rubbing against his side like he’s not sure if stepping closer will help or make things worse.
“Holly…” My name comes out quiet, almost hesitant.
When I lift my eyes up from the floor, his own are soft and sad. “I’m sorry. For all of this. For all three of us. We…I’m so sorry.”
The apology is a twist of the knife.
Not because it’s cruel, but because it’s kind, genuine.
Just like Liam.
The problem is I can’t take kindness from him right now, not when my chest already feels split open and bleeding out.
I shake my head, my gaze falling to the floor again. “Just go, Liam.”
He lingers one second longer, maybe waiting for me to look up one last time to give him some kind of sign that I don’t mean it, but I don’t lift my head.
When the door finally shuts behind him, the sound is so soft it almost doesn’t register, but the quiet it leaves behind is deafening.
My knees give way before I even realize I’m moving, and I sink to the floor, my back finding the edge of the couch because I need something solid to keep me upright.
The robe bunches around me, the fabric belt digging into my waist where I’ve cinched it too tight without realizing.
Then the tears come.
Fast, hot, and relentless.
