Noah sat with that thought as Jules moved away to greet the newcomers. His coffee had gone cold, but he barely noticed, too caught up in the weight of their conversation.
His phone buzzed one final time.
Engineering report not good. Definitely another late night. Rain check on talking?
Noah’s fingers hovered over the keys, wanting to say more than justokay. Wanting to bridge the growing distance between them. But what could he say that wouldn’t sound hollow after pushing Luke away?
In the end, he simply replied.
Stay safe.
He left enough cash on the counter to cover his barely-touched coffee and a generous tip, Jules’s words echoing in his mind.The walls we build to protect ourselves usually end up being our own prison.
The question was: how did he start tearing those walls down without everything crumbling around him?
The day campparking lot buzzed with activity as parents picked up their excited children. Noah spotted Eli immediately, his bright-red Iron Man shirt like a beacon among the crowd. But instead of his usual bouncy enthusiasm, Eli walked slowly toward the car, his art project clutched carefully to his chest.
“Hey, buddy.” Noah opened the back door, helping Eli with his backpack. “How was superhero day?”
“Good.” Eli’s response lacked his usual enthusiasm. He climbed into his booster seat, still holding his artwork close. “Ms. Alyse says I did a really good job on my drawing.”
“Yeah? Can I see it?”
Eli hesitated, then carefully turned the paper around. Noah’s breath caught at the crayon illustration—a group of figures clearly meant to be their family at the lake house. Luke stood next to Noah, their stick-figure hands joined, while Eli played in the water between them. Drew was there too, positioned near the water as if ready to help.
“It’s great, buddy.” Noah’s throat felt tight. “Why don’t we hang it on the fridge when we get home?”
“Can we send a picture to Uncle Luke first?” Eli’s voice was small, uncertain. “I drew him extra tall so everyone knows it’s him.”
Noah’s heart clenched. “Of course we can.”
The drive home was quiet, broken only by Eli’s occasional sighs as he studied his drawing. Noah caught glimpses of his son’s expression in the rearview mirror, seeing the weight of unspoken questions in his eyes.
“Dad?” Eli finally asked as they pulled into their driveway. “Why doesn’t Uncle Luke come over anymore? Is he mad about me falling in the water and you two fighting after?”
“What? No, buddy.” Noah parked quickly, turning to face his son. “Why would you think that?”
“Because…” Eli’s lower lip trembled. “Because I fell in the lake when I wasn’t supposed to be so close. Drew told us to stay backfrom the edge. And then you got really quiet, and now Uncle Luke is never around, and?—”
“Oh, Eli.” Noah was out of his seat and opening Eli’s door before he could finish. He gathered his son into his arms, drawing him close. “Nothing that happened at the lake was your fault. He’s been super busy with work, that’s all.”
“But I miss him.” Eli’s voice cracked. “And you’re grumpy now.”
Noah’s chest tightened at his son’s perceptiveness. He’d thought he was hiding his struggles better than that. “I miss him too, buddy.”
“Then why can’t he come over?” Eli pulled back, his expression serious. “Mason says his dad doesn’t let his mom’s new boyfriend come over because they fight all the time when Mason’s there. But you and Uncle Luke don’t fight. You love each other.”
The simple certainty in Eli’s voice hit Noah like a physical blow. Because, of course, his son saw what Noah had been trying so hard to protect them from—the love that had grown between them all, the family they’d become.
“Tomorrow’s Friday. Can he come over then?” Hope crept into Eli’s voice. “He promised we’d start working on the treehouse, remember?”
“We’ll see.” Noah pulled Eli close again, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Right now, let’s get inside and take a picture of your amazing artwork to send him, okay?”
Later, after Eli was finally asleep, Noah sat on the couch—in Luke’s usual spot—clutching his phone. He’d sent the picture of Eli’s drawing hours ago, but Luke hadn’t responded. Probablystill dealing with whatever structural crisis had come up at the site.
Something soft brushed against his hand as he shifted. One of Luke’s work shirts draped over the back of the couch. Noah brought it to his face, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat and that stupidly expensive cologne Luke wore when they went out.
Luke texted just as Noah had given up hope of hearing back from him.
