He's only a couple of inches shorter than my six-foot-five, and he’s destined for my size one day.
But, he's still the little boy who stood on my shoulders to dunk a basketball in our driveway. He's still the little boy calling for Daddy to protect him from nightmares.
He'll always be my little boy.
I hold my arms out, not forcing him, giving him the option to deny it, even though I'm really hoping he doesn't.
Liam looks at me for a long moment before he walks right into my embrace.
"I love you, son."
Liam nods, his breath hitching as he buries his head into my shoulder and cries. A cleansing kind of cry with chest-racking sobs and his whole body shaking.
I hold onto my son, and I let him feel, and I protect him from anything that can ever hurt him while he does.
"It's okay, Daddy's here..." I grit my teeth against the overwhelming mix of emotions in my chest. I press a kiss to his head. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I promise. No more. I'm getting help, I'm not going anywhere ever again."
"You really hurt Mama," he cries, and I squeeze my eyes shut, more tears slipping out.
"I know," I murmur, nodding."God, I know,but I'm fixing it. I promise I'm going to fix it."
Liam's voice is quiet as he asks, "Are you guys going to get a divorce?"
"Over my dead body," I joke, and Liam huffs a laugh.
I joke because I would let Wendy divorce me if that's what she truly wanted. I've spent too long being wrapped up in the fear of losing her, in doing things my way only this past year, that I have no fucking right to keep demanding anything of her.
But I would fight for her—for another chance—until my last breath, because it will only ever be Wendy for me.
After a few minutes, Liam pulls back, and I release him. He wipes his nose on his hoodie sleeve, and we silently sit back down at the fire pit, this time next to each other.
The only sound is the crackling of the fire and the distant hum of traffic. It's a cloudless sky tonight, all the stars visible from the new moon.
This night feels peaceful, light—a fresh start for us.
"You want marshmallows?"
Liam snorts. "No thanks, Dad."
Him calling me Dad again makes me grin, and I ask, "How are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've missed out on a whole year of your life, Liam," I shrug. "Tell me everything—what you're comfortable sharing, at least."
Liam’s eyes light up. "We're undefeated."
"Yeah?" I ask with a smile. "Are you still playing shooting guard?"
"No, Coach's got me playing Power Forward," he says, before a small grin curves at his lips. "He named me Captain."
"No shit?" I ask, and Liam nods his head proudly. I hold out my hand for a high-five, "I'm proud of you."
Liam looks at the hand for a long moment, his face torn like he's deciding what to do. I don't move a muscle; this moment feels heavy and important, and I resolve myself that I won't show that it hurts if Liam rejects me, but hope grows anyway.
Just as I think Liam's not going to move, he lifts his arm and high-fives me. It's soft, but the sound rings through my heart like a thunderclap.
"Thanks, Dad," Liam murmurs, glancing down to his lap.
