“This is a lot of security for a school drop-off,” I murmur as Jace guides us out of the circular drive.
“It’s the right amount of security for a Carter family debut,” he corrects, his eyes constantly moving—mirrors, road, surroundings. Always assessing. “People need to see that you’re protected. That your boys are protected.”
That they belong to us,hangs unspoken in the air.
Noah’s music choice starts playing—some upbeat pop song that’s probably from a kids’ movie—and he bounces in his seat, temporarily distracted from first-day nerves.
But Liam is quiet. Too quiet. I can see him in the side mirror, staring out the window with that small furrow between his brows that means he’s thinking too hard.
We’re maybe five minutes from school when I hear it—that shift in energy that only a mother can detect.
“Mom?” Liam’s voice is small. Careful. “What if the other kids don’t like us?”
My heart clenches. “Baby?—”
“What if they think we’re weird because we’re new?” Noah adds, his earlier brightness dimming. “What if we don’t make any friends?”
I twist in my seat to look at them, opening my mouth to offer the standard maternal reassurance—you’re wonderful, they’ll love you, just be yourself—but Cal beats me to it.
“You know what I did on my first day at a new school?” he asks, leaning forward between the seats, amber eyes warm.
“What?” Both boys chorus.
“I challenged the biggest kid in class to a race at recess.” Cal grins, and there’s mischief in it, but also truth. “Beat him by half a lap.”
“Did he get mad?” Noah asks, leaning forward.
“Nah. Silas doesn’t get mad about losing. He just gets competitive.” Cal glances back at Silas, who’s watching this exchange with something soft in his expression. “We’ve been best friends ever since. Sometimes the best way to make friends is to show them what you’re good at.”
“You raced Mr. Silas?” Liam’s voice carries surprise. He looks at Silas. “Did you want to win?”
“Tried to,” Silas corrects from the back. “Kid was fast. Still is, unfortunately.”
“You’re fast, too,” Noah observes. “You caught me when I tried to run past you yesterday.”
“Different kind of fast,” Silas says. “Cal’s got speed. I’ve got reach. Your mom’s got strategy—she’ll let you think you’re winning right up until you realize you’re exactly where she wanted you.”
I feel heat creeping up my neck at the observation. At the casual way he describes me like he’s studied me. Like he knows.
“What if I’m not good at anything?” Liam asks quietly, and the vulnerability in his voice makes me want to pull the car over and hold him.
I twist further in my seat, catching his eyes. “Liam, baby. Have you forgotten how you built that entire city inMinecraft? With the working redstone doors and the farm system? You were so proud of it, you made me take pictures.” His face scrunches intoa frown, but I continue. “And you taught yourself. You watched those videos and figured it out step by step. That’s amazing.”
“Really?” His voice is small but hopeful.
“Really. And your drawings? The spaceship you made last week had so many details—windows and engines, and a landing bay. You’re five, and you drew a landing bay with little ships inside it.”
I watch his face relax, his shoulders straighten slightly, see him processing this, filing it away.
“What about me?” Noah pipes up. “What am I good at?”
“Are you kidding?” I have to laugh. “You learned to ride your bike in one afternoon. One. You fell like six times and just kept getting back on. And your stories—remember the one about the dragon who was afraid of butterflies? You made Jimmy laugh so hard he got hiccups.”
“That was a good story,” Noah admits, grinning.
“And if those don’t work,” Cal adds, leaning forward with that mischief in his amber eyes, “you’ve clearly got a future in management, Noah. Look at how you got Silas to not only shape pancakes into Mickey Mouse for you, but to go the extra mile with whipped cream. That’s executive-level delegation right there.”
“What’s ‘delegation?’” Noah asks.
