“I was afraid you’d say no.”

Wes’s voice barely made it past the wind, but it cut through the noise in my chest like a blade. I stared at him—really stared. The weight of three years, of quiet birthdays and hollow holidays, pressed between us like a wall.

“You’re not his father,” I whispered, voice cracking.

“I know,” he said. “But for ten minutes, he got to pretend he wasn’t different. He got to smile. He got to feel… normal.”

I looked at the car. At Tyler’s small face watching us from the backseat window, eyes wide and waiting. I could see it now—the way he stood a little taller when Wes was beside him, the way his hand gripped Wes’s like a lifeline.

“I wasn’t trying to replace Tom,” Wes added. “No one ever could. But if there’s a space in Tyler’s heart that needs filling… I’ll stand in the gap. If you’ll let me.”

The leaves swirled around our feet like they were holding their breath.

I didn’t answer then. I just nodded, once. Small. Shaky.

Because maybe, just maybe, love doesn’t always show up the way we expect.