Later, when Gabe returned to her side, he didn’t say much, just offered a shrug and a quiet, "It wasn’t so bad."
Claire nodded and kissed the top of his head. "We’ll take it one visit at a time." And though her words were steady, a small knot of uncertainty twisted beneath them—because hope was a risk, too, and letting Gabe get close again meant trusting that this time would be different.
As the visits continued over the next few weeks, so did their routines. Claire met with the community center staff regularly, Derek remained punctual and respectful, and Jack... Jack became a constant.
Before ending their visit one day, Gabe and Derek stopped at the small ice cream stand outside the community center—a new addition that quickly became a weekend favorite. Claire watched from a distance as Derek handed Gabe a cup of chocolate swirl, their hands brushing awkwardly as they shared a brief smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Sometimes their meetings were filled with small breakthroughs—a shared joke over chess, Gabe asking Derek a question about his job, or Derek remembering Gabe’s favorite superhero and surprising him with a comic book. Each small moment stirred something in Claire—relief, cautious optimism, and a tender ache that hinted at both vulnerability and strength.
It reminded her of all the times she’d held Gabe’s heart together and now had to decide how much of her own to risk—relief, cautious optimism, and an ache she couldn’t quite name. She feared Gabe opening his heart only to be let down again, yet with every interaction, she couldn’t help but hope that maybe this time, things really could be different.
One Saturday, Derek brought in a photo album from his own childhood, letting Gabe flip through the pages while he told stories about family camping trips and the time he broke his arm falling out of a tree. Gabe listened, rapt and grinning, and Claire saw something settle in her son’s eyes—not forgiveness, not yet, but curiosity. A desire to know more. And for Derek, Claire was sure that meant everything to him.
One morning after a particularly smooth handoff, Derek pulled Claire aside near the exit. His brow was knit with an odd mix of nerves and determination.
"Can we talk for a second?" he asked, glancing toward the playroom where Gabe was flipping through a puzzle book.
Claire folded her arms loosely. "Sure. What’s on your mind?"
Derek rubbed the back of his neck. "I just... I wanted to say thank you. For letting me be here. For giving me a chance."
Her expression remained guarded. "It’s not about me, Derek. It’s about Gabe."
"I know. And I want to get it right this time," he said. "I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I didn’t fight hard enough to stay in his life, and that’s on me. But I’m trying now because... I don’t want to miss any more of it."
Claire studied him for a long moment. Trust wasn’t something she gave easily anymore—not after all the letdowns, not after all the times she’d had to be both strong and soft for Gabe. "Trying means more than showing up. It means consistency, and being willing to build trust again. Not just with Gabe, but with me, too."
"I understand," he said. "And I’m willing."
She nodded once, slowly. "Then we keep showing up. That’s where it starts."
"He’s a great kid, Claire. You’ve done a good job."
Claire blinked. Compliments from Derek weren’t common currency.
He hesitated, shifting his weight. "And I can see it. How happy you are. With him."
She followed his glance through the lobby window where Jack waited with Chloe, their laughter bubbling as they negotiated over muffin flavors.
"Yeah," Claire said. "I am."
Derek nodded. "I’m glad. For what it’s worth."
She believed him. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t carry the conversation home with her like a burden.
Instead, she returned to Jack’s porch that afternoon, her steps light with a new kind of ease—the kind that came from letting go of old weights and choosing to believe in something better. Chloe and Gabe were on the lawn, busy building a makeshift lemonade stand from cardboard and leftover festival bunting, their laughter rising like a promise in the sun-drenched air.
Jack looked up from his spot on the step, sketchpad in hand. "Back in one piece?"
"Better than that."
Later that afternoon, as the kids sat on the porch sipping lemonade from slightly crumpled paper cups, Chloe leaned toward Gabe with a conspiratorial grin.
"So... what's it like having two dads?"
Gabe blinked. "I don't have two. I mean, Derek’s just... visiting. Jack’s the one who helps me with homework and stuff."
Chloe tilted her head, curly hair bouncing. "But your mom likes both of them, right?"
