while he babbled a bunch of indecipherable things that I wanted to read like Braille.
To be able to get to know this kid—for him to know me—and wondering the whole fucking time if he was going to be ripped out of my life as quickly as he’d come into it.
A wall fought to go up around my heart every time I thought of it, a guard against the coming pain, and the kid knocked it down every time he looked at me with all that trust.
Awkwardly, I hauled his little body against mine and slammed the door shut just as I felt the energy erupt from the house, and I looked up to see the front door bang open.
Kale barreled out, his chest heaving and his demeanor wild, so different than my dad who’d always had it together.
He came to a rigid stop at the top of the five steps that led to the house, staring down at me in outright disbelief.
In grief and hope and confusion.
The man who’d become my father when I was eight years old.
The man who’d saved my life.
Literally.
It was one thing to be deaf.
It was another to know your days were numbered, your heart metered with a timestamp.
But Kale?
He’d given me more days than I’d been destined to live.
I clutched Everett to me.
Making some kind of statement.
Taking a stance.
I didn’t know.
Only thing I knew was I wanted to wrap this kid up and protect him for all my days.
My throat bobbed heavily while Dad stood up there like he wasn’t sure how to breach the space.
E-V-A-N.
He signed my name like a petition. Like desperation. Like terror.
Could feel all of them rushing down.
Slamming into my being.
A reminder of what I’d done.
Everett buried his face in my neck. No doubt, he’d felt the force of it, too.
I rubbed his back. “It’s okay, sweet boy. It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s all going to be okay.” Just prayed it was the truth.
I edged for the wooden steps, meeting my dad’s eye.
Dad’s hand clamped down over his chest, like looking at me caused him physical pain. “Evan.”
Emotion clogged my throat, and I blinked, trying to see through the years. “Dad,” I forced out.
Shame written in the word.
A plea.
“God.” His lips moved. Distraught. Overwhelmed.
And then he was stumbling down the steps, his eyes flickering frantically between me and my son.
Like he was readying himself. Prepping himself to have to step in the same way he’d had to do when I was a kid.
Like he was reliving it all over again. With a shaky hand, he reached out and ran his hand over the back of Everett’s head.
Tenderly.
Like he was making his own statement.
A promise.
I felt it like an earthquake.
Then he shifted his gaze to me, hesitating, before he hauled me in for a hug that shouted so many things.
Distress and hope and gloom.
He seemed to have to pry himself away, his expression full of apprehension. “We should go inside.”
“Yeah,” I responded.
I followed him up the steps to the porch and into the house.
This house that was just as cozy as the one Mom and I had shared when she’d run with me.
When she’d saved my life, too, doing every single thing she had to do to keep me alive.
To keep me safe.
I finally understood it now.
A parent’s willingness to give it all.
Sacrifice everything.
No matter the cost.
I noticed the whir of movement upstairs, and my attention snapped up to find my little sister blazing down the steps, her hair this unruly mix of red and blonde.
My heart clutched.
She’d grown at least five inches, no longer a child, now fourteen, so much that I had missed.
She didn’t slow. She hit the bottom of the landing and dove right for me. Her arms around my waist and her cheek against Everett’s back.
Pinning us all together.
With my free arm, I fumbled to return her embrace. “Charlotte.” Was pretty sure it was some kind of whimper. It was taking my all not to lose my shit right there.
To drop to my knees with the crash of emotion.
I’d known coming back here was going to be hard, but I hadn’t prepared myself for it to feel quite like this.
She squeezed tighter before she looked back at me, her face a blur of tears. “Evan. I was so worried about you. I can’t believe you’re here. And you have a baby. Oh my God. How did you get a baby?”
She was rushing. Rambling.
Good thing, too. There was no chance in hell I was answering that.