Chapter 8 - Claire Made Me Look at What Her Pride Cost Too
I apologized too much at first.
Every visit.
Every lunch.
Every time one of the boys mentioned something I had missed.
First steps.
Kindergarten.
Broken arm.
School play.
Flu.
The time Daniel shoved a bead into Miles's ear and Claire spent four hours at urgent care.
I would say:
“I should've been there.”
Eventually Claire snapped.
“No.”
We were standing outside the boys' elementary school.
“What?”
“You need to stop.”
“I missed everything.”
“Yes.”
“I should have—”
“You are making every memory about your absence.”
That silenced me.
She continued.
“I am allowed to remember Noah's first day of school without watching you punish yourself.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for five minutes.”
Fair.
Then she surprised me.
“I made mistakes too.”
I frowned.
Claire leaned against her car.
“When your lawyer wrote back, I decided you had rejected them.”
“What else was I supposed to think?”
“You could have filed for parentage.”
I said nothing.
“I didn't.”
“Because of my mother.”
“Partly.”
She looked down.
“Also because I wanted to prove I didn't need any Whitmore money.”
“That doesn't make you responsible for my absence.”
“No.”
She looked back at me.
“But it meant the boys had less than they needed sometimes because my pride felt morally cleaner than another fight.”
I wanted to disagree.
Claire wouldn't let me.
“Miles needed speech therapy at three. I waited six months because insurance didn't cover enough.”
My throat tightened.
“Claire.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“This is what I mean. I don't need you to make me innocent.”
“I never said—”
“You do it with your face.”
I almost smiled.
She was still Claire.
Brutally observant.
“I thought protecting them meant keeping the Whitmores away.”
“Given what my mother did, that was not irrational.”
“No. But it was still a choice.”
That conversation changed how I thought about repair.
Not one villain.
Not one saint.
Margaret had power and used it badly.
I had power and refused to use it when Claire needed me.
Claire had less power but still made decisions after I failed her.
The boys inherited the consequences of all three adults.
May you like
Our job now was not to determine whose guilt was purest.
It was to stop handing it to them.
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