I stood in the doorway longer than I meant to, watching him fiddle with the string. He didn’t look at it; he didn’t need to. His fingers moved like they’d memorized the work—knot, tighten, pause, undo. At first, we thought it was just busywork. Then we saw the pattern: when a knot didn’t sit right, he started over from the beginning. Always silent, controlled, and focused.
The others laughed at something on “iCarly,” and despite Jake’s eyes being on the screen, he didn’t react. He just continued to knot and unknot the drawstring. It was odd. But it was also… better. Before the hoodie, Jake hadn’t been able to tolerate noise. Couldn’t sit still in a room like this with his siblings. Now he was here. Present, in his own way, anchored to something I didn’t understand but wasn’t about to interfere with.
I cleared my throat. “Hello, freeloaders. Your father has returned.”
“Hi, Dad!” Emma said. “Did you make us any money?”
“Not much, but they do want me to come back tomorrow, which feels like a win.”
Grace and Quinn rushed over to hug me. Kyle acknowledgedme with a single wave. Jake’s hands paused, but they didn’t let go of the drawstring.
“Jake. I see you graduated to ‘iCarly.’ Nice.”
He nodded once but didn’t look up. The knot came undone, and he started again. I crossed the room and rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t lean in either. But the string moved faster for a second before settling back into its rhythm.
I noticed that.
Taking in the fraying ends, I marked the way his jaw stayed set even in stillness, and I wondered how this hoodie string had come to be his security blanket during his long captivity. It broke my heart, but it also gave me the slightest measure of peace knowing that at least he’d had something in the darkness.
I left the room without saying anything else, carrying with me the certainty that one day, when Jake was ready, he would tell me what the hoodie meant. Until then, I’d let him tie and untie his way back to us, one silent knot at a time.
I foundMichelle in the bedroom sitting on the edge of the bed, her long legs crossed and wearing a dress that accentuated her curves. Her makeup was fresh, and her shiny brown hair was done up in big, bouncy curls.
I came to a skidding halt. “Wow.”
She smiled and stood.
“You got a hot date or something?” I asked, looking around for a suitor.
“Something like that,” she said, walking toward me and wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Do I know him? Is he worthy?”
She kissed me, and not like the drive-by kind either. No, this one was swathed in promise.
“He’s very worthy.”
I dropped my bag and wrapped an arm around her waist, already hard for this foreplay.
“And I thought the best part of my day was when someone thanked me for my service like I’d just come back from war, and all I’d done was survive a loose wiener dog.”
“A true warrior.” She laughed. “Happy anniversary, Iron Maiden.”
My face fell. I dropped my arm and backed up. “Dammit. Oh, my god, Michelle, I forgot. I…”
Stepping closer, she reached for my hand, giving my wedding ring a small twist.
“You don’t have to remember one date, Scott. Not when you show up every day for me.”
I drew in a sharp breath, still pissed at myself for forgetting but deflecting with humor. “So does that mean I don’t need to buy you a birthday gift?”
“Easy there. Let’s not get carried away,” she said. “Now go shower. You’re taking me to dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Like out there?” I pointed to the window, where the parent-shaming reporters were gathered. “In the wild?”
