It feels like a good sign.
He looks up when we walk in, and something in his expression shifts. He becomes softer. Almost warm.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
We stand there for a second, just looking at each other, until Jason clears his throat behind me.
"We'll go set up the craft table," he says, herding the rest of the pack away with zero subtlety. "You two... talk."
Toby's mouth quirks. "Subtle."
"They're trying."
"I know." He fidgets with his sleeve, then seems to make a decision. "I was thinking, after story hour, if you're not busy... maybe we could get coffee? Just the two of us?"
"Yeah. I'd like that."
"Okay." He smiles—small but real. "Okay, good."
Story hour is different this time. I still sit in the back, still help with crafts, still let the kids climb on me. But I catch Toby watching me more than once. And when our eyes meet across the room, he doesn't look away.
When it's over and the parents have collected their kids and Miss Glitterbomb has swept out in a cloud of glitter and sequins, Toby finds me by the craft table.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
We head to the coffee shop, order at the counter and find a table in the corner, away from the window.
Toby wraps his hands around his mug, not drinking, just holding. I wait. I've learned to wait.
"I've been thinking," he says finally. "About everything."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He takes a breath. "I owe you—"
"You don't owe me anything."
"Let me finish." He looks up, meets my eyes. "I don't owe you an apology for having feelings. I was hurt, and that was real. But I do owe you... an explanation, maybe. For why I reacted the way I did."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." He sets his mug down, and I can see him gathering himself. "I told you about the guy who left me on the side of the road."
"I remember."
"What I didn't tell you is that he's not the only one. He's just the worst one." Toby's voice is steady, but I can smell the old hurt underneath. "There's been a pattern, Knox. Guys who seem interested, who make me feel special, and then... aren't. And don't. I'm the one people settle for when they can't get someone better. The forgettable one."
"Toby—"
"So when I found out about the drawer, about all the people before me, my brain just..." He makes a gesture like something exploding. "Went to the worst place. Because that's what I'm used to. I thought I was just the latest in a long line. Another warm body. Another name you wouldn't remember in a month."
"That's not—"
"I know." He reaches across the table, and his fingers brush mine. "I know that now. You've shown me. The groceries,the story hours, the way you've just... been there. Consistently. Without pushing." His thumb traces across my knuckles. "You've been proving it this whole time. And I believe you now."
