Page 120 of Sugar & Shadows

I was going to be a father. In approximately thirty-one weeks.

And the rush of love, responsibility, and protectiveness that had engulfed me when I saw the flickering heartbeat was real. Possibly the most real thing I’d ever experienced.

I wasn’t father material. I was a mess. Physically and mentally. For years I’d only existed, doing everything all the time for everyone around me. Never looking inward at what I was missing, what I was denying myself.

I’d spent the last two days catching up on work and popping in to check on Sabrina. She’d felt fine, thankfully, and hadn’t experienced any bleeding. She’d checked in with the doc yesterday, and it looked like things were on track.

Except for me. I was way, way off track.

And that had to change.

I kicked my boots off and surveyed the piles of mail, files, laundry, and wreckage all over this house, wincing.

The change had to start here.

I’d fired up the coffee maker and had just thrown a load of laundry into the washer when the doorbell rang.

Navigating the piles I’d roughly sorted things into, I headed to the entryway. And when I opened the door, the sunlight hit my face, blinding me.

Sabrina was nothing but a silhouette until she stepped inside, wearing all-black workout clothes that hugged every curve. But she wasn’t alone. Laurie stood beside her, holding several paper bags.

And—my stomach plummeted—were those my parents?

“Um.” I cleared my suddenly dry throat. “What’s going on?”

Head held high, Sabrina pushed past me into the house. “I assembled a team. To help you clean.”

I froze, no. Not possible. No one could come in here.

“We want to help.” My mom gave me a genuine smile. She was holding the spinning mop she’d bought off an Instagram ad and never stopped telling people about.

Dad, toolbox in hand, followed her wordlessly, knowing better than to disagree with the boss.

“You’re not supposed to do anything strenuous,” I reminded Sabrina.

“For twenty-four hours. That time has come and gone. But I knew you’d say that, so I brought reinforcements,” she quipped.

Out front, a car door slammed, and a moment later, Logan strolled in without knocking. “I’m here,” he called out. “Late night.” Stopping at the threshold, he pulled his long hair back into his signature man bun. “Had a late night treating a goat pox outbreak. But Sabrina said it was time, and you know me; I love a project.” He clapped and rubbed his hands together vigorously.

The whole crew migrated to the kitchen, where Sabrina was pulling coffee mugs from a cabinet.

This was my nightmare come true. The people I cared about here, in my house, judging me.

Only no one wore a judgmental expression.

This felt more like care. Like help.

Help I desperately needed but had no idea how to ask for.

So I rolled up my sleeves and let it happen. Eventually, the judgment would come. The scorn. Or the shame. They just needed time to settle in. And once they really got a good look, they’d be horrified.

Mom and Laurie tackled the second floor, scrubbing bathrooms, moving old boxes out of the spare bedroom, dusting, and cleaning the baseboards.

Dad got to work fixing loose doorknobs, the broken kitchen cabinet, and replacing the broken garbage disposal.

Logan appointed himself in charge of laundry and pulled a steam cleaner out of his truck, proving himself pretty adept at carpet and upholstery cleaning.

“How do you know how to do this?” I asked.