themselves trying not to.
“Are you still angry?” she asked.
Nathan shook his head. “No.”
“At Daddy?”
“No.”
“At us?”
His face crumpled. “Never at you.”
Owen emerged slightly.
“Do you like bears?”
Nathan blinked. “Yes.”
“This is Captain.”
Nathan nodded solemnly. “He looks like someone important.”
“He is,” Owen said.
And just like that, a door opened.
Not all the way.
But enough.
Nathan’s presence changed everything.
He was family. Imperfect, late, grieving, but family. He lived in a small house outside Milwaukee, worked as a mechanic, had no children, and had spent the last three years caring for an elderly neighbor as if she were kin. His home study would take time, but Maya seemed cautiously hopeful.
I told myself this was good.
It was good.
Children belonged with people who could tell them where their father learned to ride a bike. Who knew what made him laugh.
