She slowly wrap bits of my hair around her fingers. “No,” she says, sleepily.
Willa stands. “We should probably get going. These kiddos have daycare tomorrow.”
“Nooooo,” Mason says, diving for Wren’s hand and clinging to it.
And for a second, I’m holding Maddie, Wren has pulled Mason to their side and is stroking the toddler’s hair, and I can see an unexpected life unfolding in front of me.
“Can I sleep over, Uncle River?” Maddie asks.
I wish I could say yes, like I do so often when I’m home in my studio above the garage. But there’s too much going on. And there’s an additional threat here that I don’t want the kids to be a part of.
“Not tonight, kiddo, but we will as soon as we can.”
We herd the kids into their thick coats and mittens and hats. And I carry them out, one in each arm, before dropping them into their seats in the back of the car. Once they are secured and buckled in, I kiss both their foreheads.
When I stand, I see Wren in the doorway, ready to wave them all goodbye.
Willa hugs me. “You’ll stay safe, right?”
“Always,” I reply.
But Willa doesn’t step away. Instead, she looks up at me. “You look…soft.”
I snort. “For fuck’s sake, Willa.”
She slaps my arm. “Don’t be a donkey. You know what I mean. You look really happy.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “You know you deserve that too, right?”
“Get in the car,” I say, playfully pushing her in the direction of the driver’s door.
“I’m serious,” she says. “You’ve done a lot for me and Mom. Always looking after us, making sure the two of us want for nothing and feel safe. It’s okay to let someone be that person for you. To spend as much time on your own happiness as you do on ours.”
We hug each other, and I kiss her temple. “Thanks, Will.”
I open the door for her and close it once she’s settled, then I wave to them all as Willa drives them off the property. The cold wind bites through my hood, but I don’t step inside until I can no longer see their headlights.
I can’t imagine a world where either of those kids looks back and I’m not there.
When they are finally out of sight, I step up to the front door.
“Thank you.” Wren touches my cheek. “I really needed that.”
I brush a bit of flour off their hoodie. “I’m glad.”
“I don’t usually do well with small talk and things.”
Smiling, I take Wren’s hand and lead them into the entrance hall so I can close the door to keep the cold air out. “You did great. The make-your-own-pizza was a genius idea. And you listened to them. That’s not small.”
Wren turns to face me, and the look I find there is enough to kill me. “I felt safe. With all of them.”
I swallow, because there’s a lump in my throat I can’t shift. “Good.”
Wren wraps their arms around my neck and kisses me. “You’re a natural with them.”
I hum thoughtfully. “Hypothetically, do you want kids, Wren?”
“Hypothetically, I do. The how is where I struggle. Pregnancy is like an open door for misgendering and more medical mistrust. And I don’t know where I’ll be on this journey by then, if it’ll be viable to adopt. But, purely hypothetically, I’d like kids. Why?”
I squeeze their hand. “Because I think I just realized that not wanting them would be a deal breaker for me.”
