Together they shifted it toward the wall. As Clare reached forward, her sleeve slid up and revealed a small butterfly tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
Ryder noticed. Clare followed his gaze and touched the delicate design.
“I got it after I left,” she said. “To remind myself change is possible.” She studied it for a second.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m really changing anything, though.” Ryder looked at her.
“Every month it’s the same struggle,” Clare continued. “Rent. Groceries. Daycare.” “Some days it feels like I’m just treading water.”
Ryder straightened, his expression thoughtful. “You’re working hard. Anyone can see that.”
“But is it enough?” Clare sank onto the couch beside Maggie, who immediately crawled against her side.
“The library job barely covers our expenses. I try to pick up extra shifts when I can, but then I miss time with the kids.” She stroked Maggie’s hair absently.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m failing them.” Ryder stood awkwardly for several seconds before lowering himself into the armchair across from them.
The old springs groaned beneath his weight. “I see them, you know,” he said.
Clare looked up. “How they look at you. How Maggie’s eyes light up when you walk into the room.”
“That kid has more love in her life than most people ever get.” Clare blinked rapidly.
“It’s just hard sometimes doing it all alone.” “You’re doing your best.”
The emotional honesty of the moment made Ryder restless. He cleared his throat and looked down at the chair beneath him.
“These springs have seen better days. I could fix them if you want.” Clare noticed the change of subject for what it was.
She also noticed his hands, normally so steady, fidgeting with the frayed fabric on the armrest. For the first time, she saw clearly that beneath Ryder’s intimidating exterior was someone who understood loneliness far better than he wanted to admit.
“That would be nice,” she said softly. “Thank you, Ryder.” Maggie chose that moment to break the tension.
“Can we have cookies now, Mommy? You promised.” Clare laughed.
“Yes, sweetheart.” She looked at Ryder.
“Would you like one too?” Ryder nodded, grateful for the distraction.
But his eyes lingered on Clare for a moment longer. Something unspoken passed between them in the warm afternoon light.
The morning air was crisp when Ryder followed his usual route toward the park. His boots left dark prints in the dew, and for once he barely noticed the curious glances from other parkgoers. His thoughts were occupied by something else now.
Or, more accurately, by someone else. He checked his watch more often than he wanted to admit because Clare usually brought the children to the playground after her morning shift at the library.
The sound of Maggie’s laughter reached him before he saw them. “Higher, Mommy! Push me higher!”
Clare stood behind the swing, giving her daughter gentle pushes while keeping one eye on Max, who was building something in the sandbox. Her hair caught the sunlight, revealing soft golden highlights Ryder had never noticed before.
“Red!” Max squealed when he spotted him. The nickname had developed because the toddler could not quite manage Ryder.
Max abandoned his sand castle and ran across the playground with both arms raised. Ryder bent automatically and scooped him up.
“Hey, little man. Building something good over there?” Clare turned at the sound of Max’s excitement.