Page 184 of When Love Takes Root

That one stayed with me.

Speaking around the wound.

Celeste was stepping around Kayden’s grief. Kayden was weaponizing it. The girls were shrinking around it. JJ was grieving while trying to protect everybody from the grief. And I was standing on the porch of their lives, trying to be respectful enough to earn entry without announcing I saw smoke under the doors.

Mama reached across the table and covered my hands with hers.

“Give Celeste a little space. Let her hear herself. Let her miss your steadiness without you performing absence to punish her.”

“I’d never punish her.”

“I know that. Make sure your hurt doesn’t start preaching before your spirit does.”

I looked down at our hands.

Mama squeezed my fingers. “When you speak to her, don’t plead for access like love is a courtroom. Ask for truth. Ask whether she wants to build slowly or whether she wants fear to make the final decision. Ask what her children need in order to feel secure, then tell her what you need without apologizing for having a heart too.”

I swallowed.

Mama’s thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Compassion doesn’t require you to bleed in silence. Her wound deserves tenderness, but so does yours.”

That sentence settled deep.

I nodded.

Uncle Zeke folded his arms. “And when it’s time, talk to that boy.”

“Kayden?”

“Yeah. With his mama’s permission. Don’t ambush him.” His mouth tightened. “But don’t let him believe disrespect is devotion. He can love his daddy and respect his mama at the same time.”

Aunt Hilary added, “Maya needs to know her needs won’t inconvenience the adults. Zuri needs to know telling the truth helped. Skye needs to know the grown folks are still safe. Children don’t just listen to what you say. They keep receipts on what your presence does to the room.”

My mind started moving again. Ordered. Prayerful. A plan forming beneath the ache.

I could give Celeste space without disappearing. I could text only about the outlet follow-up for now, clear and respectful. I could ask if she’d allow me to check the rest of the house one room at a time, with her present, without pressure or assumption. Eventually, if she allowed it, I could sit with the children and tell them the truth.

I’m not here to erase your father.

I’m not asking for his chair.

I’m asking if there’s space for me to care about y’all too.

I could bring Maya a better sketch lamp once the outlet was safe, not as a gift demanding affection, but as evidence I heard her. I could tell Zuri her speaking up protected her sister. I could make Skye laugh without making light of what happened. Maybe Kayden and I could stand in the driveway one day, man to almost-man, and tell the truth without the dinner table bleeding between us.

And Celeste.

My Red, even if she told me not to call her that.

I wouldn’t rush her.

But I wouldn’t let fear write the ending either.

Mama watched my face change. “There he is.”

I gave a low laugh. “Where was I?”

“In your feelings with no map,” Uncle Zeke said.