Hearts on Broadway (Book 2)

Chapter 16 - Finding Comfort in Music, and Fatherhood

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. Morgan sat at the kitchen table, a bottle of formula in one hand and Jackson nestled comfortably in his arms. Jackson's tiny fingers grasped at his dad's shirt, his big, curious eyes locked on Morgan's face.

For a moment, everything felt peaceful. The soft sound of Jackson drinking from his bottle filled the room, and Morgan found himself lost in the simple act of holding his son. There was something grounding about these moments—the quiet routine of feeding, rocking, and watching over Jackson. It was one of the few things that kept Morgan anchored, even as the rest of his life felt like it was spinning out of control.

Jackson's eyes fluttered closed, his tiny chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of sleep. Morgan sighed, leaning his head back against the chair. The house was still, almost too still. He missed the days when it wasn't just him and Jackson in the house—when Georgie's laughter would fill the rooms, and they would spend hours talking about everything and nothing. He missed the way she would sing softly to Jackson, her voice calming him in a way only she could.

Morgan stood up slowly, careful not to disturb Jackson as he carried him to the crib. As he laid his son down, Morgan couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. Jackson was growing up so fast—every day, he was learning something new, and it hurt knowing that Georgie was missing these moments. She should be here, sharing in the joy of watching their son grow, but instead, it was just the two of them.

He leaned over the crib, gently brushing a strand of hair off Jackson's forehead. "You're gonna be all right, buddy," Morgan whispered, though the words felt more like a reassurance for himself than for his sleeping son.

Later that afternoon, after Jackson had gone down for a nap, Morgan sat on the couch, his phone buzzing next to him. It was Hardy.

Hardy: Hey man, just checking in. You doing okay?

Morgan stared at the screen for a moment. He didn't know how to answer that question anymore. Was he okay? He was surviving, but it didn't feel like enough. Still, he appreciated Hardy reaching out. He always had a way of knowing when Morgan was struggling, even when Morgan didn't say it out loud.

Morgan: Yeah, I'm hanging in there.

Hardy: You need to get out, bro. Let's grab a beer or hit the studio. Could use some distraction, you feel me?

Morgan hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Jackson's room. He hadn't had much time for himself lately, too focused on trying to keep things together for Jackson's sake. But maybe Hardy was right. Maybe he did need a break, even if it was just for a few hours.

Morgan: Studio sounds good. I'll meet you there.

When Morgan arrived at the studio, Hardy and Ernest were already there, sitting in the lounge with guitars in hand. Hardy looked up and grinned as soon as Morgan walked through the door.

"Hey, man. Good to see you," Hardy said, pulling him into a quick hug. "We were starting to think you forgot how to get here."

Morgan chuckled, though the laugh didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nah, just been busy with Jackson, you know."

Ernest gave him a sympathetic nod, strumming lightly on his guitar. "We get it. But it's good you're here. You need this."

Morgan shrugged as he sat down beside them. "Yeah, maybe. It's just been... a lot."

Hardy exchanged a look with Ernest before leaning forward. "So how you holding up? For real?"

Morgan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly? I don't know, man. Some days, it's fine. I get up, take care of Jackson, and just try to focus on him. But other days... it's like I don't even know what I'm doing. I miss her, you know?"