Chapter 185 For her. For him.

Chapter 185 For her. For him.
CALUM
I didn’t think Pete would call me but he did to let me know they were in Cathy’s house. He wanted me to stay with her while he sorted out some things. That might have been the best thing he ever did because she was a mess when I came in. I could hear her voice from outside. It hurt then, even now, with her in my arms, it still hurts. 

Cathy whines in her sleep. Her hand blindly reaches for me as if to ensure I’m still here. There’s no respite for her in her sleep, she’s still scared. I plant another kiss on her temple. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s perfect. I stare at her until my eyes can’t handle it any longer. I should check on Mace but I’m afraid she will wake up to see the bed empty and panic. 

A knock echoes from behind the door. Pete pushes the door open and his head pokes in. “Come in,” I tell him. He walks in holding Mace. There’s a crib beside the bed. I try to get off the bed and help out but he shakes his head.

“Stay. Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” Some of the tension in his face erases as he lowers his grandson into his crib. “How’s she doing?” 

“Asleep?” I reply. Pete sighs. Tears well up in his eyes and he shakes his head. “She needs to talk to someone. It might be good for her to consider therapy, you know?” 

Amelia’s letter strongly stated that Cathy needed one. I agree. Pete nods. He sinks down the edge of the bed, his gaze never once leaving his daughter. I pull the cover up to her chin as he leans down for a kiss. 

“She’s stronger than she thinks,” he says.

“Yes. But strong people also need a break.” 

“You’re right. I’ll talk to her about it.” We sit in comfortable silence. I rest my head on the headboard while he watches Cathy. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says. I want to be here. I offer him a tight smile. “She has not been the same since you left. I don’t know what happened after...” He leaves the statement hanging, and my mind connects the dots. “But I hope you two can figure it out so I have my baby girl again. I miss her.” 

“You should have reached out,” I whisper. 

Cathy is strong but adamant. She needs a stern figure around the house. Someone to guide and maybe force her to confront her fears. Pete shakes his head slowly. If he had mentioned Mace, I would never have turned back. I would have waited until she listened.

“I fucked up once by meddling,” he replies. His eyes soften as they locate his daughter, and he rubs her feet through the cover. “I wasn’t going to do it again. She wouldn’t have forgiven me. But I’m glad you came.” 

Once Pete is gone, I move to the other side so I’m closer to Mace. I have a son. Calum Dissick has a son, who was named by Amelia Greene. I push into a sitting position, staring at my miniature version with a mix of shock and amusement. His limbs are so tiny. How can such a small human exist? How did Cathy look when pregnant? Was it easy? Tough? 

My attention returns to Cathy when I hear groans behind me. Cathy’s eyes flutter open, she stares at me for ten seconds and I hold my breath, half-expecting the worse. I wish she slept for longer. It looks like she needs it.

“What are you doing here?” My shock must have made her second guess because she shakes her head. “Forget I asked that. How did you know we were coming here?” 

“Your dad?” I reply. “He called.” 

“Where’s he?” 

“He left already but he will be back soon.” 

Our heads turn to the window. By my guess, it should be a little past eight. Cathy tries to sit up and I place my hand over hers. She flinches and retracts her hand.

“Cathy.”

“Thanks,” Cathy says without looking at me. “You don’t have to stay back. You can go.” 

But I want to be here. For her. For Mace. 

How can she be so far yet so close? 

Mace stirs. His soft cries grab our attention. I jump to my feet before she gets off the bed. “I’ve got it,” I told her. But she still climbs off the bed. Always so stubborn.

My head hovers over Mace’s crib and his cry dies down. His tiny arms stretching out for a hug lower once our eyes collide. I don’t think my son likes me. Something disconnects and flips inside me. I reach out for him and he lets out a cry. Cathy nudges me gently to the side and takes over. She is in her gown. I should also get dressed. He welcomes her. The boy actually smiles when she lifts him. 

“He doesn’t know who you are yet,” she says into Mace’s shoulder and pats his back. 

That doesn’t sting. No, it doesn’t hurt. What am I saying? It hurts too much. 

Cathy rocks him for a bit and Mace cools off. I watch mother and son bond without me, feeling like the uninvited guest. I also want him to be enthralled with me. I move closer to Cathy. She doesn’t smile but she pries Mace’s hands from her shoulders. 

“You can try,” she says. 

Mace doesn’t protest this time. But he’s not as bubbly. His fingers weave into my beards and he yanks hard. I should have shaved.

Cathy winces on my behalf. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.”

“Kids will play with anything they come in contact with,” she says. Note to self, trim your beards or your son will pull out every strand. I smile at him. Her voice goes softer and she adds, “If you think he’s about to cry, sing to him or walk around for a bit.” 

“Cool.” Cathy watches us with a sad look. I don’t understand what she’s so scared of but it has me moving closer. I’ll never take Mace away from her. “You can have him.” 

But I don’t make actual effort to give him back. I need more time with my baby boy.  

“It’s fine,” she says. “You should spend time with him. Mace looks like he’s about to go back to sleep. It’s best if you sit down.” 

She pries him off me so I can sit. I create a hammock with my arms and she offers me a rare smile that’s gone before I can store it in my memory. Maybe it won’t take so much to win her over. We have a lot to talk about.

“Do you want anything? You have been here for quite a while,” she murmurs.

I stare fondly at my son. My son. Mine. “No, thanks. I have everything I need right here.” 

“Of course,” she grits out. 

“Did I say something wrong?” I blurt out.  

Cathy turns her back to me, but I notice her shoulders shake. “No. It’s fine. I’ll be back.” 

She’s out of the room before I can utter a word in my defence. I glance down at my son. He’s asleep. As gently as I can, I rise to my feet. “I’ll go check on mama and be right back, okay?” I tell him. “Just hold on.” 

He doesn’t stir when I set him down. I exit the room and hurry downstairs. The living room is empty. I follow the clangs of pots to the kitchen, announcing my presence by clearing my throat.

“He’s in his crib,” I explain before she asks.

The best she offers me is a polite smile. Her eyes look worse than they did before she slept off. I wish I knew how I could help.  

“What are you doing?” I ask, pointing at the microwave. 

“Heating up his milk.” 

“What happened to—” my voice trails off and my eyes drop to her chest. “Why can’t you...” She folds her arms on said chest and I gulp audibly. Change of tactic. “Is it safe this way?” 

A sigh leaves her lips. “I don’t mean it in a bad way,” I say, in case she understood that wrongly. I’m trying to be the best father I can.

“I’m not a bad mother,” she replies. “It’s safe. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be giving it to my son.” 

My eyes soften even more. I walk around the counter and we stand awkwardly for ten seconds without saying a word. We need to fix us. 

“Didn’t say you were.” 

“Didn’t say I wasn’t,” she counters. 

I stretch my arms to pull her into a hug but change my mind. Right now, I’m not sure what she would like. My arms wrap around my torso in a self-hug, and her smile grows sadder. Should I have hugged her instead? 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” The microwave pings. She removes the milk to empty it into Mace’s bottle. “Can I help?” 

“It’s fine,” she whispers, her back to me. 

I’m not in as much control as I want to be. I move, stopping less than an inch behind her. My hands lower to either side of her, caging her between me and the counter. Her breath stutters. It might have been my overactive ears but she sniffs and my body reacts by leaning forward to touch hers. 

“I want to help,” I murmurs.

Goosebumps race down her exposed neck. Would it be okay to kiss her there? Or sink my fingers into her hair to know if they still have the same reactions. I sniff her.

“Okay,” is all she whispers. “You can help.” 

We break away from our trance. She shows me how to empty the milk into the bottle while I watch her handle it like a pro, like it’s something she does daily. Of course it is. She has taken good care of him for long.

In comfortable silence, we head to Cathy’s room to join our son. She sets the bottle on the drawer by the bed. My arm brushes hers and she stiffens. A big ball of discomfort explodes in my belly. This can’t be it for us. Walking around eggshells? No.

“Do we wake him up to feed him?” I ask. 

“It depends. Do you want to feed him?” 

“Do you mind?” I say in reply. 

“No?” Cathy clears her throat. Her hand trembles as she drops the bottle in my hand. “Mr Dissick, I know you think... you think you have to be here, but you don’t have to. I know the band has a tour soon. You should focus on that. Mace will be fine with me.”

A smile lifts the corners of my lips. This woman thinks I’m here to play. I might have come under the guise of a condolence visit but now that I know what I have here, I’m not leaving until I have both of them in my life. 

“Stop it,” I tell her. “I want to be here. And you’re wrong, I don’t think I should be here. I know I should be here for my son.” 

Cathy’s lips disappear into a thin line. She nods. “Maybe we should let him sleep a little longer. I’ll feed him when he wakes up.” 

That sounds like a dismissal. Because it is what it is. I stare at my feet. I’m not sure how I’ll get back to my hotel since Jason drove me here. 

“You should leave,” she says. I open my mouth to tell her why it’s a bad reason but she whispers, “Please. You can come back tomorrow, I promise I’ll open up for you.” 

“6 am.”

“7 am,” she argues. 

A deadweight drops to my chest. I rub my hands over my knees and sigh softly. “If you or Mace needs anything, you’ll call me? I don’t care how late it is, you have to call.” 

“I will. Promise.” 

Accepting defeat, I stand. She doesn’t walk me to the front door. I was expecting it but it still stings. Before I walk out into the streets to find a cab, I text Pete to let him know I have been kicked out by his daughter but will be back in the morning.