"Unca Jacky!" Ethan runs toward me, nearly tripping over his own feet. I catch him before he face-plants. "Skate! Please!"
"The rink's not ready yet, bud. We haven't set it up for winter."
His face crumples. "But want skate now."
"Tell you what." I set him down and head toward the play structure. "How about we practice climbing instead? Get you strong for when we do skate."
His eyes light up. Crisis averted.
Maya watches me lift him onto the first platform, something soft in her expression. "You're good with him."
"He's easy. Toddlers just need a distraction." I spot Ethan as he navigates the small ladder. "Plus, I've had practice. Emma made me babysit constantly when he was born."
"That tracks." She leans against the fence, arms wrapped around herself. She's wearing a jacket today—she usually goes without one, and I always itch to give her mine. Her curls are pulled back in a low bun, a few strands escaping around her face.
She looks tired but more relaxed than I've seen her in days. Like, maybe that conversation actually helped.
Ethan makes it to the top of the slide and looks down, suddenly uncertain.
"Come on, buddy," I call up. "You've got this."
"Scared!"
"That's okay. Being scared is normal." I move to the bottom of the slide. "But I'm right here. I'll catch you."
He sits at the top, considering. Then he pushes off.
I catch him at the bottom before swinging him up. He's giggling, fear forgotten. "Again! Again!"
Maya's laughing. Actually laughing. Not the performance laugh she uses around Emma and Chase, but something real. The sound hits me square in the chest.
This is the Maya I remember. The one who used to fill our house with noise and life. The one who made everything feel lighter just by existing in the same room.
"My turn," Maya says suddenly.
"What?"
"I want to go down the slide." She's already climbing the structure, moving with the kind of reckless confidence I haven't seen from her since she arrived.
"Maya, that slide is built for toddlers?—"
She goes down anyway, gets stuck halfway because she's too tall, and has to awkwardly shimmy the rest of the way while Ethan thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen.
She lands at the bottom, hair coming loose from her bun, grinning like an idiot.
"That was dignified," I say.
"Shut up, Ice Capades."
Ethan wants to go again, so we spend the next twenty minutes taking turns on the play structure. Maya keeps getting stuck on the slide. I keep catching Ethan at the bottom. And fora little while, it feels normal. Like we're just two people hanging out with a kid on a fall afternoon.
Max appears from nowhere, jumping onto the fence and surveying the scene with his typical judgment. His tail flicks as he watches Ethan climb.
"Your cat is judging us," Maya says.
"He's Chase's cat."
"He's everyone's cat. And he definitely thinks we're idiots."
