I sucked in a slow breath, keeping my voice steady even as my chest started to ache. Five-year-olds didn’t need speeches or fixes. They needed truth that didn’t scare them and reassurance that didn’t disappear.
“That’s not weird,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes. “It’s different. And different can feel strange sometimes, especially to kids who haven’t learned how to say things kindly yet.” I brushed my thumb under his eye before a tear could fall. “But not havingyour mom here doesn’t make you less. It means you loved someone really big.”
Miles nodded, lips wobbling. “I don’t want people to think I’m…weird or broken.”
The words hit me like a punch. Before I could stop myself, my hand curled into a fist at my side.
Em knelt beside us then, smooth and calm like she’d always been meant to be there. She didn’t crowd him. She didn’t rush him. She settled onto her heels and rested her hands on her knees, bringing herself to his level.
“Miles,” she said softly, “can I tell you something?”
He glanced at her, sniffing. “Okay.”
“I don’t have a mom who can do everything she used to,” she said gently. “And sometimes people don’t know what to say about that, so they say something silly or hurtful instead.” She tilted her head, her voice warm and certain. “But that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with us. It means we’ve been really brave.”
Miles studied her face like he was weighing her words carefully. “Brave like the pink dragon?”
“Exactly like the pink dragon,” she said, smiling. “And brave people get sad sometimes. That’s allowed.”
He took a shaky breath, then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her neck. She hugged him back immediately, one hand smoothing over his hair, the other pressing warm and steady between his shoulder blades. I turned my face away for a second, blinking hard.
“I still like dragons,” he mumbled into her shoulder.
“I know,” she said. “And your mom knew that too.”
After a minute, he pulled back, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. The tears stopped, but he looked so little, so defeated. I was used to the smiles and silliness, and I would take down ahundred dragons if that would help him. He frowned and stared at me, then Em. “Can we still have dinner?”
“Absolutely,” Em said, standing and holding out her hand. “Dragon fighters need fuel, but let’s wash our hands first. I’ll come with you. I forgot to earlier.”
Dinner was quieter after that, but not heavy. Miles talked about school again, about recess and the kid who cheated at tag, and Em listened like every detail mattered. I found myself watching the way she stayed tuned into him, how she laughed when it was appropriate and stayed quiet when it wasn’t. She was so good with him. I knew she helped raise her younger siblings when she was a teenager, but to see the experience in action like this was a gift.
I couldn’t stop myself from touching her. My body needed her warmth, her touch. I reached around her and placed my arm around her shoulders, letting my head rest on her shoulder for a beat. She smelled so damn good, and she leaned into my touch before continuing a story about her little brother, Daniel. Miles laughed again, and I finally relaxed.
By the time bedtime rolled around, Miles was worn out in the way only kids could be—emotions spent, body tired, eyes drooping even as he tried to stay awake. I tucked him in while Em stood in the doorway, Sassy already curled at the foot of the bed. Her head rested on his foot, and he sat up to pet her.
“Ms. Em?” he asked sleepily.
“Yeah, bud?”
“Will you be here tomorrow too? And Sassy?”
She met my eyes for half a second before answering. “We sure will.”
He smiled at that, eyelids fluttering closed, and reached out until his fingers brushed hers. Em sat on the edge of his bed, holding his hand. She stayed there until his breathing evened out, until sleep claimed him completely.
“He’ll sleep like a log tonight.” Em carefully shut his door, leaving it cracked as she stared up at me. “Hey, he’ll be okay. Grief like this is normal.”
“I know.” I pinched my eyes, scrubbing my face with my hand as we headed toward the living room. “It’s so fucking hard when he says that shit, because I miss my sister too.”
“Have you talked to Dr. Mercer about any of this yet?”
“A few sessions, yeah, but I’ve been so busy trying to balance life…” I started, stopping when Em frowned at me. “I’m not opposed to it, don’t look at me like that.”
“Noah, you’re handling so much.” She stepped toward me and took my hands in hers, a sweet smile toying on her lips. I loved when she touched me first. She did often when we were friends, but every single time, my stomach swooped with awareness, and heat flooded my system. “You need to carve out time to handle this safely. You’re so good for him. Truly. I’m so proud of you, but you need to learn to handle the grief for yourself too.”
“This is not how I envisioned our date tonight.” I intertwined our fingers, staring at how small and perfect her hand was in mine. “I had a surprise for you.”
“Oh?” She chewed the side of her lips, pushing her glasses up her nose as she stared up at me. “Do I not get the surprise anymore? You know I’m a sucker for a surprise, Noah. But small ones. Not big ones.”
