Marbles immediately melts into him, and without thinking, Tuck snuggles the little guy in close, rubbing his thumb over soft fur. I just stand there, watching. This man—who didn’t want a cat. Who swore up and down he wouldn’t be the one cuddling it.
And yet here he is.
The same man who hesitated when I first asked him to come to one of the boys’ hockey games. Who looked like I’d asked him to go skydiving without a parachute. Now he shows up without being asked. Drives them. Helps them. Laughs with them.
Cares.
My heart stumbles in my chest. We’ve been playing house. That’s what this is supposed to be. Temporary. Convenient. Safe. But standing here, watching him with Marbles in his arms, in a house that’s starting to feel like something more…
A quiet, fragile thought takes shape.
What if it’s not just that?
What if he’s not just going through the motions?
What if…
My breath catches.
What if he’s changed his mind?
Do I dare believe it’s real?
Honestly, ever since the night of the accident, something in him has shifted. He doesn’t hover at the edges anymore. Doesn’t keep that careful, invisible distance between himself and my boys like he used to. It’s subtle—so subtle I almost missed it at first—but it’s there in the way he leans in instead of pulling back, in the way he listens when they talk, really listens, like what they say matters.
Like they matter.
I still don’t know what happened to him. What put that fear in his eyes in the first place. The past he keeps locked up tight, tucked somewhere I can’t reach. Maybe I never will. But maybe… he’s not running from us anymore. Maybe he’s learning how to stay.
The coffee machine beeps, breaking through my thoughts. I turn, pulling the mug free, the warmth seeping into my hands. Without thinking, I hold it out to him.
He shakes his head, pushing it gently back toward me. “No, you take that. I’ll make another. And I’ll get started on pancakes for the boys.”
“Tuck—”
“Go,” he says, softer now, but firm. “You’ve got a test tonight. Why don’t you take a few minutes for yourself before everything gets crazy?”
I hesitate, the instinct to argue right there on my tongue…but the truth is, I do want that time. Just a few quiet minutes to go over my notes, to breathe.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
His mouth curves. “Of course.”
Before I can say anything else, the quiet house explodes into motion. Feet pounding down the stairs. Voices overlapping.
“Mom, when are we getting the car back?” Lucas calls, skidding into the kitchen.
I can’t help but smile, a little incredulous at how natural this all feels now. Like we’ve been doing this forever. Mornings full of noise and chaos, breakfasts at the counter, backpacks and reminders and last-minute scrambles. Then school drop-offs, my shifts at the café, classes in the evenings.
And through it all…Tuck.
Steady. Present.
Here.
“Probably tomorrow,” I answer, leaning against the counter as I watch them move around the kitchen like it’s always been theirs.
“I’ll call and check,” Tuck offers easily, already reaching for his phone. His eyes flick to mine for just a second, a quiet I’ve got this, and something in my chest softens.
