Sadie, hearing her mom’s voice, jumped on the bed and snuggled in by her side. “She’s been looking for you.”
“Probably missing out on our daily run.”
“About that…”
“Anderson, I’m not going to stop running with the dog.”
“I think maybe you need to rest a little more. Until you’re sure you’re healthy.”
She pouted. “Fine. I realize maybe I pushed it too hard too fast, but running makes me feel better.”
I watched her for a minute, wanting to say something else, another concern I’d had on my mind. She noticed my quiet and said, “What? I can tell you have something to say.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you get this little line right here,” she gestured between her eyes, “and it’s like a red flag letting me know you have opinions.”
“It’s not so much an opinion as a worry.”
She rubbed Sadie’s ears. “Spit it out.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m undermining your thoughts or decisions, but this behavior has been going on ever since you found out about Amber having a baby.” I leaned closer and took her hand. “None of us are going anywhere and I think you know that. I think you’re the one still struggling with this decision and I think it’s making you restless and extreme and ultimately sick.”
She stared down at our intertwined hands.
“I’ve made this decision not because I want to, Anderson, but because I have to. I can’t saddle a child with my baggage.”
I exhaled, a million responses running through my head, but none of them were appropriate for the moment. She needed rest and healing.
“Fine. If you’re comfortable with that decision, then so am I.”
She looked up and eyed me skeptically. “What about wanting
to have kids? With me?”
I shrugged. “Maybe that would have worked in another life—one where it was just the two of us, where there was no mental health issues, where everything was perfect. We’ll never know, but what I do know is I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s what Hayden said too.”
“Then that’s two of us.”
“And the others?” Her eyes droop. She was tired and needed to stop talking about heavy topics, and rest.
“You think Jackson Hall is going anywhere? Or Oliver?” I shook my head. “Stop worrying about it and take care of yourself.”
Her hand tightened in mine. “I want to. I do. I just can’t…”
“Stop?” I stood and kissed her forehead. “I know. That brain of yours doesn’t like to let things go. But you’ve got to. Once you’re healthy, we can dig into this again.”
She sighed but didn’t argue, sleepiness rolling back over her like a comfortable wave. She was exhausted. God knew how much time she’d spent stressing about all of this. The late nights, the long runs, the excessive hours at work.
“I love you, Anderson Thompson,” she said, turning her face to the pillow.
“I love you too, Heaven Reeves. Always and forever.”
Those words were enough for me and I settled back in my chair to keep watch over her as she slept, hoping they were enough for her, too.
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