I haven’t forgotten.
I remember the nights I cried myself to sleep. The way I packed up my life into boxes. The quiet moments when Tate would ask why Daddy didn’t live with us anymore. The way it felt to be discarded, to be the one left picking up the pieces.
But that’s not the full picture, is it?
“That’s not fair,” I say softer than I intend. “Neither of us were fulfilled in our marriage.”
“So what’s changed?” Sarge presses.
I look away. Because everything has changed.
Corbin stayed all night when Tate was sick, never once acting like it was just my responsibility. He shows up because he wants to, not because he has to. He listens. He’s different. The man I was married to—he was afraid of his father’s shadow, of failure, of being vulnerable. This version of Corbin? He’s standing on his own.
And his father? Mr. Banks has been absent from everything except Tate’s birthday party.
The grip his father had on his life is loosening. Maybe even gone.
I take a breath, choosing my words carefully. “People change.”
Sarge scoffs, shaking his head. “Just like Dad did?”
The words land like a punch.
“He came back once, too,” Sarge says, his voice hard. “But then he left again. People leave, Jules. They do it once, they’ll do it again.”
I flinch. Because the worst part?
I don’t know if he’s wrong.
“Why aren’t you on dating apps?” I turn the conversation on him. “Why aren’t you putting yourself out there?”
Sarge laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Because I’m content being alone. People can’t hurt you if you don’t let them in.”
My heart aches at his words. “But that’s so… lonely.”
He shrugs. “I have you and Tate. What else do I need?”
I think back on Sarge’s dating life. Or lack thereof. He’s never been in a serious relationship, never let anyone get too close. He’s always kept people at a distance, guarding himself like his heart is a fortress no one is allowed to enter.
“Companionship?” I offer. “A partnership?”
“I’m good,” he chuckles before heading toward the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation.
“Ignore him,” Connie interjects as she takes the cleaning supplies from me.
“Kind of hard to,” I admit, glancing toward the swinging kitchen doors.
“When it comes to your love life,” Connie smirks, unimpressed, “he has a lot of opinions for someone who’s never actually been in a relationship.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
“Listen,” Connie leans in, lowering her voice like she’s about to impart some sacred wisdom. “If you want to give it another try with Corbin, you should. No one should be denied a second chance at happiness.”
I exhale sharply. “It’s complicated.”
Connie waggles her eyebrows. “All the best relationships are.”
I snort. “Is that so?”
