As we head toward the exit, Tyler jumps between Logan and me. When he reaches up, one small hand extends to each of us. Logan's fingers close gently around his son's hand, his eyes meeting mine over Tyler's head. The wonder in his expression makes my throat tight.
I take Tyler's other hand, his tiny fingers warm and trusting in mine. His chatter about dinosaur facts fills the space between us as we walk toward the doors, the sunlight beyond streaming through the glass.
Jessica walks slightly ahead, her back straight, purse clutched tight against her side. There's a stiffness to her posturethat speaks volumes about how difficult this is for her. But she's here. We're all here, figuring it out one step at a time.
Tyler swings our hands as we walk, creating a rhythm that feels like a beginning. Not perfect, not easy, but possible. As we step out into the bright Chicago day, I realize we look like what we're becoming—an unconventional family, taking our first tentative steps together into uncertain territory. Tyler laughs at something Logan says, the sound pure and uncomplicated.
Maybe that's the gift in all this chaos. The chance to see the world through Tyler's eyes—where dinosaurs are fascinating, pulleys are magical, and the adults in his life are just people who hold his hands when he reaches up. Simple. Clear. Present.
I squeeze his small hand gently, and he squeezes back without missing a beat in his monologue. Logan catches my eye again, mouthing "thank you" over Tyler's head.
I smile back. We can do this.
Chapter 14
Logan
Tyler breaks free from my hand and runs toward the playground, his light-up dinosaur sneakers flashing. A mom on the nearest bench glances up from her phone, does a double-take, then leans toward her friend. "Is that—?" I catch before Tyler's shouts drown out the rest.
"Daddy! The slide! The big one!" He's pointing at the spiral slide, already heading for the ladder.
"Stay where I can see you," I call out, but he's gone, scrambling up the rungs.
Reese walks beside me as we follow. "Relax. He's fine."
"Easy for you to say. That mom's already taking pictures."
"She's taking pictures of her own kid." But Reese looks, and the woman's phone is definitely aimed our way. "Okay, maybe not."
Tyler rockets down the slide and immediately races back to the ladder. On his third trip down, he tries going backward and gets stuck halfway, legs kicking.
"I'm stuck! Daddy!"
I jog over, reaching up to help him wiggle free. Two dads by the swings are definitely watching now. One pulls out his phone.
"There you go, bud."
"Again!" Tyler shoots down properly this time, then runs over, grabbing my hand with his sweaty little fingers. "I'm hungry."
I dig through the backpack Jessica packed. Everything's in tiny containers with labels.
'Snack 1.' 'Snack 2.' 'Emergency cookies.' I pull out a juice box. The straw bends, won't go through the hole. I push harder. Apple juice explodes across my shirt.
"Shit—shoot. Sorry."
Tyler giggles. "You said a bad word!"
"No, I said shoot." I grab napkins, dabbing at my shirt. The juice is already sticky.
Reese takes over, fixing the juice box with practiced ease. "Let's save this for later."
I find an applesauce pouch next. The cap's sealed tight. When it finally twists open, applesauce globs onto my thumb.
"I can do it!" Tyler snatches the pouch before I can clean it, sucking it down like he's done it a thousand times. Probably has.
"Can I have cookies now?"
The container labeled 'Snack 1' has animal crackers. I open it carefully. An elephant cracks in half.
