Chapter 9 - I've Got HimThree weeks later, my arm had healed enough that I decided to bring some of our belongings home. Not everything.
Weston noticed immediately. "You're keeping clothes at your mom's?"
"Yes."
"Because you still don't trust me?"
I thought about the question. "Because I'm learning to trust myself. If everything falls apart again, I'm not going to wait until I'm physically broken before I do something about it."
That night, Rhett began crying from the nursery. Out of habit, I started to stand. But Weston was already on his feet.
"I've got him," he said. "That's his tired cry."
Then he disappeared down the hallway. A minute later, Rhett went quiet. I picked up the cup of tea beside me. It was still warm.
For months, I had believed being a good mother meant carrying everything. Then I broke my arm and learned something much more important.
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A good mother doesn't have to prove how much she can endure.
And a father shouldn't have to be repeatedly asked to act like one.
