Chapter 158: Hundred and Fifty Eight

The next evening, when Declan showed up again, I braced myself.

Part of me expected another too-grand gesture, another fight waiting to happen. But when I opened the door, he wasn’t carrying shopping bags or toys or anything at all. Just him, in a soft gray sweater, his hair rumpled like he’d spent the whole drive running his hand through it.

“Hi,” he said, almost tentative.

“Hi,” I echoed, watching him carefully.

Then Noah’s footsteps pattered across the floor. He appeared in the hallway, socks half-off his heels, holding his coloring book tightly to his chest. His eyes flicked between us, wary.

Declan crouched down to Noah’s height, his hands resting loosely on his knees. “Hey, buddy. What are you working on?”

Noah hesitated, then flipped open the coloring book to a half-finished page. A dinosaur sprawled across the paper, shaded green and orange in uneven strokes.

Declan leaned in, squinting as though he were studying fine art. “That’s… really good. Better than anything I ever drew.”

Suspicion flashed in Noah’s eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Declan said, dead serious. “My dinosaurs looked like chickens with extra teeth. It was embarrassing.”

Noah snorted, the sound bursting out of him before he could hold it back. Declan smiled, gentle, and didn’t push further. He just sat there on the rug as Noah picked up his crayon again.

I leaned against the doorframe, my chest aching. This was what I wanted, for Declan to slow down, to meet Noah where he was instead of trying to drag him forward.

The room felt… calm. Noah was smiling, and so was Declan.

Later, when Noah dug his battered old soccer ball out from under the couch, I held my breath. I half-expected Declan to suggest the brand-new one still sitting in the corner, unseen and unnoticed.

But Declan just shrugged, nodding at the scuffed ball. “Want to play outside?”

Noah considered him for a moment, then gave a small nod.

I headed down with them to the playground. I watched from the side as they went further in to the centre. The evening air smelled faintly of rain, the sky was still slightly yellow. Noah bounced the ball against his knee, clumsy but proud.

“Want me to show you a trick?” Declan asked.

Noah narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “What kind of trick?”

“Not the kind Coach makes you do. Something fun.”

Noah tilted his head, curious despite himself.

Declan trapped the ball between his ankles, wobbling side to side like a penguin. “Ta-da. The world’s most ridiculous soccer drill.”

Noah stared for a second, then burst into laughter, the kind that shook his whole body. He mimicked Declan, shuffling clumsily with the ball stuck between his feet.

Declan straightened, still hopping. “Okay, penguin race. First one to the bench wins.”

They took off, stumbling and tripping, both laughing so hard they nearly collapsed. Noah squealed with triumph when he crossed the line first, throwing his arms in the air. “I win!”

Declan staggered to a stop, clutching his chest dramatically. “Defeated by a six-year-old. My career is over.”

Noah giggled so hard he fell onto the grass, rolling over in victory.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, tears stinging my eyes. Because this, this was what I’d been waiting to see.

Not the desperate man trying to make up for years. Not the father drowning in guilt. But someone willing to look ridiculous, to play, to make his son laugh.

When Declan scooped Noah up, tossing him lightly in the air before catching him, Noah didn’t tense or pull away. He relaxed in Declan’s arms, trusting.

And I realized that was the beginning of something real.

When we came back upstairs, our cheeks pink from the cool air, Noah collapsed on the rug again, breathless but happy. He grabbed his crayons and picked up right where he left off, humming to himself.

Declan leaned against the counter, running a hand through his hair, his eyes soft as he watched Noah. Then his gaze flicked to me.

“You were right,” he said quietly.

I tilted my head. “About what?”

“Patience.” He gave me a half-smile, a little sheepish. “It’s harder than I thought. But… you were right.”

I smiled at him softly. Hiding from Noah’s eyes, I gave him a soft kiss on his cheek, and then right by the corner of his mouth.

I handed him a glass of water, brushing his fingers as I passed it. He held onto my hand a second longer than necessary.

“Look,” I whispered, nodding toward Noah. He was bent over his book, tongue poking out as he concentrated. “He’s already letting you in. One penguin race at a time.”

Declan’s throat bobbed, his eyes glistening. He nodded slowly, like he was afraid to speak.

“You don’t have to prove anything to him,” I added. “You just have to be here. That’s enough.”

He looked at me like I’d given him a gift he had been waiting for all his life.

Later, after Noah went to bed, Declan stayed. We sat together on the couch, the silence between us warm and light, even after the fight yesterday.

“You know,” he said after a long pause, his arm brushing mine, “when I was a kid, my dad never had time for things like this. Soccer games, school projects. He thought money was love. He thought being a provider was enough.”

I turned my head, studying his profile. His jaw was tense, his eyes distant.

“And?” I prompted softly.

“And I don’t want that for Noah,” he said, finally meeting my gaze. “I don’t care if he thinks I’m ridiculous, if he laughs at me more than with me. As long as he knows I’m there.”

Something swelled in my chest, sharp and sweet. I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“He will,” I murmured. “He already does.”