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“Noah always answered.”

“He recognized the sound.”

“Did he remember you doing it?”

“No.”

“But he knew it meant you.”

“Yes.”

Caleb smiled.

“That seems more important than a refrigerator light.”

I wanted to believe him.

Before I could answer, a whistle came from the workshop.

Imperfect because Noah had only one hand.

One short, breathless note.

A second.

Then a longer one that broke at the end.

I was out of the office before thought caught up.

Noah sat beside his bench.

He looked almost surprised by how quickly I appeared.

Caleb laughed behind me.

Noah’s mouth curved.

“It works.”

I stopped in front of him.

“You called.”

“And you came.”

“Always.”

His eye held mine.

Something passed between us that neither Caleb nor Owen acknowledged.

At nine, Maeve arrived with a physical therapist named Joel.

Noah’s good mood vanished the moment he saw the exercise bag.

“No.”

Joel smiled. “That is not how appointments work.”