“Max asked me yesterday if you were going to stay forever.” Ryder’s breath caught.
“What did you tell him?” Clare’s cheeks warmed.
“I told him I hoped so.” Ryder stared at her.
“The way you are with them is amazing,” Clare continued. “Sometimes I catch myself wondering if I’m dreaming. If any of this is real.” “It’s real,” Ryder said.
His voice was rough with emotion. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing.”
He looked toward the dark outline of the park in the distance. “A few months ago, I was lost. Didn’t even know how lost until Maggie asked me that question.”
Clare reached out and touched his forearm. Her fingers traced one of the old tattoos.
“You’ve changed so much since then.” “The community center. The way you show up for people. The way you show up for us.”
She smiled. “I’m proud of you, Ryder.”
He covered her hand with his own. The words hit harder than any insult ever had.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said after a moment. “Sunset’s still out.” Mrs. Johnson next door agreed to listen for the children through the baby monitor, and Clare and Ryder walked down to the park together.
The same paths where Ryder once sat isolated now seemed completely different. The evening air was cool and sweet.
Most families were already heading home. They found a bench facing west, where the sky burned orange and pink.
Ryder took Clare’s hand. Their fingers intertwined naturally.
The simplicity of it still amazed both of them. “You know,” Ryder said, looking toward the sunset, “I used to come here to escape.”
“To be alone.” He glanced at her.
“Now everything’s different.” Clare squeezed his hand.
“Good different?” “The best kind.”
Ryder turned toward her. “I’ve never felt more at peace than I do right now.”
The next Sunday afternoon, the apartment was filled with sunlight and the noise of children playing. Ryder sat cross-legged on the carpet surrounded by building blocks.
Two-year-old Max worked beside him with fierce concentration, stacking pieces into unstable towers. “Higher!” Max demanded, pushing several blocks toward Ryder.
“All right, buddy.” Ryder carefully added another piece.
His large tattooed hands looked almost comical handling the tiny toys, but gentleness had become natural around the children. Maggie bounced over from the kitchen table where she had been coloring.
“I want to play too.” She dropped down beside them.
“Can we make a castle, Uncle Ryder?” Ryder froze with a block in his hand.
Uncle Ryder. The words echoed inside him.
He looked toward Clare. She stood in the kitchen doorway wearing a soft smile.