Sadie.
She hadn’t changed one teensy-tiny bit.
Her shoulder-length brown hair was tucked behind her ears today. A clipped daisy pin sat just above one temple like it was holding sunshine in place. The oversized navy sweater she wore swallowed her petite frame. The sleeves tugged down past her wrists like she needed just one more layer of comfort. It wasn’t one of her usual pastel Little-day picks. No ruffles, no frills. Just simple and worn-in, the kind of thing you pulled over your head when you needed a hug without having to ask for one.
He suspected it was Derek’s.
And the fact she was wearing it said more than words ever could.
“Darian Merrick.” Her dark eyes welled the second they met his, but her smile stayed, wobbly but genuine. “Check-in for a one-month stay in the Butterflies program.”
Her gaze raked over him and he wondered if she saw past the bold, vivid pink hair, shaved short on the sides and longer on top.
She didn’t sayI’m so sorry.
She didn’t sayYou look different.
Instead, she stepped around the desk, with her arms already lifted before he could process it.
“Danny.”
That single word hit harder than any condolences ever could.
His breath caught. He didn’t step back, but every muscle pulled tight, unsure. Although Jacob used his name moments before, this time it sank past his defenses. Months of being Darian, acting as the caretaker and the decision-maker, until he was the man left standing when everything else had fallen away.
But her arms wrapped around him anyway. Her hug was perfect, not too tight, not overwhelming. Her comforting touch was just there.
The Little name echoed in his head and a tingle prickled over his skin like he was slipping into an old coat. Still soft and familiar. Still… his?
Was he still Danny? Could he be?
He hadn’t felt like that boy in so long.
A sigh shuddered through him, and he let himself lean into the warmth of Sadie’s embrace. Maybe this was why he’d come back. To find that bittersweet part of himself. The one who still believed in bedtime stories and sticker charts and Daddies who made everything okay.
Darian nodded and croaked despite a dry mouth, “Hi, Sadie.”
“How’ve you been?” she asked, almost like the words escaped before she could pull them back.
He blinked once. “I lost my Daddy.” It came out flat. But it scraped his throat raw, like each syllable had claws.
He hadn’t said it aloud to anyone. Not like that. Not so plainly. And now that the words were out, it hit him with a magnitude the funeral hadn’t. Like the Ranch had heard it and wouldn’t let him take it back.
Sadie’s chin dipped, and she pressed her lips together, nodding like she understood every sharp edge of what he hadn’t said. The silence between them was reverent.
He stood there, suddenly too aware of the ache in his chest and how empty his hands felt without Wilbert’s to hold.
Her bottom lip trembled just once, then she straightened and after a last squeeze returned to the desk. “Are you sure you don’t want to be in the Littles’ Wing?”
Darian swallowed and inhaled.
Back to business.
He straightened. “I’m sure. I have to… I just.”
Sadie patted his hand. “You don’t need to explain yourself. So a regular room it is. At least for now.” She gave a firm nod. “You’re in one-fourteen. The room is on the ground floor, inside of the U. Your sliding doors open right onto the pool deck. The hot tub’s clean and waiting.” She slid the card across the desk but didn’t let go of it until he took it.
Sadie shifted her weight and smoothed the hem of the oversized sweater, fingers tugging at a loose thread like it might unravel the question she didn’t quite want to ask. Her eyes darted to his, then away again. “Do you…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Do you want us to bring anything over from storage?”
