“But, Dad…” Eli’s protest was interrupted by a massive yawn. The sugar crash Noah had predicted was finally hitting. “Just one more thing?”
“Tell you what.” Luke crouched to Eli’s level, the way he always did when making promises. “Tomorrow after breakfast, I’ll come over so we can work on that swing. Maybe we’ll even set up some targets along the fence. Deal?”
“Promise?” Eli’s eyes were already heavy, but he managed a sleepy smile.
“Cross my heart.” Luke’s voice was soft, gentle in a way that made Noah’s chest ache. “Now go get ready for dinner. And you’ll need to get to bed early. Can’t have our star player too tired to practice.”
Noah watched Eli trudge inside, his usual boundless energy finally depleted. The screen door hadn’t even closed before Eli called back, “Thanks, Uncle Luke! Love you!”
The words hung in the air, innocent and devastating in their simplicity. Luke’s breath caught audibly, and Noah feltsomething shift between them—the weight of implications too heavy to ignore.
“Luke—” Noah started, but Luke was already backing away, hands raised.
“I should go,” he said roughly. “I need to swing by the Tillermans before I head over here in the morning.”
“Stay.” The word slipped out before Noah could stop it. “Please. We should probably talk…”
“About how your son just casually dropped the L-word?” Luke’s laugh held no humor. “Yeah, that’s… That’s a lot, Noah. I don’t want to confuse him.”
“I know.” And he did know. Noah knew all too well how easily Eli formed attachments, how vulnerable his heart was. Knew he should have been more careful about letting Luke get so close, about blurring lines between contractor and…whatever they were becoming. “Maybe we’ve been?—”
“Don’t.” Luke’s voice was sharp. “Don’t say we’ve been reckless or moving too fast. Today was perfect, Noah. All of it. The game, ice cream, this…” He gestured at the backyard setup they’d created together. “But that’s what scares me. How easily we’ve fallen into this weird domesticity.”
There was nothing weird about it as far as Noah was concerned. It was fast, too fast, but he selfishly wanted more. “I should check on Eli and get dinner started. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”
“I’m sure. He needs some time with just you.” Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Noah couldn’t argue. It was more important now than ever that Eli know he wasn’t being pushed to the side.
He watched Luke walk to his truck, each step heavy with words left unsaid. He had to be careful—had to protect his son’s heart, no matter what.
The screen door creaked as Noah went inside, its familiar sound a reminder of all the things still broken, still needing repair. Some fixes were simple—a new hinge, a fresh coat of paint. Others required careful handling, patient attention, and the courage to admit when you might be in over your head.
“Dad?” Eli called down. “Can we read a chapter of my book before dinner? Please?”
“Coming, buddy.” Noah took one last look at the backyard, at the evidence of their almost-perfect day. Then he headed inside to do what he did best—be a father first, everything else second.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Luke balanceda tower of goodie bags against his hip while wrestling with Megan’s back gate. He’d offered to help with setup, but mostly, he’d wanted to keep busy until Noah and Eli arrived. Noah had offered to pick up Luke from his place, but Luke wasn’t ready for the proclamation his family would see them riding together as. He was beginning to regret that decision.
“Need a hand?” Drew appeared from around the corner, already reaching for the bags. “Or are you trying to create a new Pinterest-worthy way to destroy presents?”
“Hilarious.” Luke surrendered half his load, following his brother-in-law into the backyard. “Your wife forgot these at the shop and asked me to swing by and grab them on my way over. Where’s the birthday girl?”
“Inside, ‘supervising’ cake decorating.” Drew’s air quotes said everything about how helpful that supervision probably was. “Fair warning—your mom’s in there too. She’s been asking questions about Noah and Eli all morning.”
Luke nearly dropped the remaining bags. They’d done so well keeping things under wraps for the past two months. He groaned, massaging his temples after carefully setting the bags on the table Megan had directed him to over the phone. “What kind of questions?”
“Interested grandmother-type questions.” Drew started hanging streamers from the pergola Luke had built last summer. “Like whether Eli has any food allergies she should know about for future family dinners. If Noah celebrates Christmas or if they do something else. You know, the usual ‘my son finally found someone worth bringing home’ stuff.”
“It’s not—” Luke stopped because what could he say? That they weren’t serious enough for family dinner planning? That he still sometimes woke in a cold sweat, terrified of how easily they’d slotted into his life? That every time Eli called him “Uncle Luke,” his chest got tight with want and fear?
“Not what?” Megan emerged from the house carrying stacks of paper plates. “Not serious? Because I’ve known you your whole life, little brother, and I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Can we not do this today?” Luke busied himself with the balloon arch, grateful for a distraction. “It’s Livy’s day. Let’s focus on that.”
“Oh, we are.” Megan’s smile was pure mischief. “Especially since a certain someone begged to help plan games that just happen to be Eli’s favorites.”
