Page 48 of Redeeming Melodies

Through the door behind me, Tommy let out one of his cartoon snores. Jake's expression softened at the sound, and something in my chest twisted.

"Come in," I found myself saying. "Just keep it down. Kid's still out cold."

Jake moved like someone used to being careful - quiet steps, measuring the space before he claimed it. The morning light caught his face as he passed the window, turning those brown eyes almost gold. Made it hard to look away.

"Tea?" I offered, gesturing to the little kitchenette Clara had stocked. "Coffee maker's broken but there's some fancy herbal stuff Tommy's therapist swears by."

"Tea's good." He settled into one of the chairs by the window, and fuck if he didn't make Clara's mismatched furniture look like a deliberate choice instead of small-town necessity.

I busied myself with the kettle, needing something to do with my hands. The room felt smaller with Jake in it, like his presence took up more space than just the physical. Or maybe that was just me, hyper-aware of every move he made.

"You always make house calls this early?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"Figured you could use a friendly face after yesterday's excitement."

Right. Yesterday. When I'd basically invited myself to live in his house. Real smooth, Blue.

"About that," I started, but he cut me off.

"Already set up the spare rooms." His certainty knocked me sideways. "Got some old baseball stuff Tommy might like, if that's okay."

The kettle clicked off and I poured hot water over tea bags, buying time to process that. Jake had already prepared for us. Had thought about what Tommy might want.

"You don't have to do all this," I said finally, setting a mug in front of him. "We can figure something else out."

"Already figured out." He wrapped his hands around the mug, and I definitely didn't notice how capable those fingers looked. "Unless you'd rather stay here?"

Tommy snuffled in his sleep, rolling over with the kind of abandon only kids can manage. Jake's eyes tracked the movement, something soft crossing his face.

"He seems peaceful," he said quietly. "Different from yesterday."

"Yeah, well." I sank into the chair opposite him, cradling my own mug. "Just a kid getting to be a kid."

Jake nodded like that made perfect sense. Maybe in his world it did. "Town's good for that. Letting people breathe."

The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable exactly, but charged with something I wasn't ready to name. Morning light painted stripes across the table, across Jake's hands still wrapped around his mug, across the space between us that felt both too wide and not wide enough.

The soft creak of Tommy's door shattered our quiet moment, and I turned to watch my son stumble out, pillow creases still marking his face. His superhero pajamas were twisted sideways - evidence of his usual restless sleep. But then he spotted Jake, and fuck if my heart didn't skip watching his whole face light up.

"Sheriff Jake!" Tommy launched himself forward with that pure kid energy I'd forgotten he had. Since the divorce, he'd gotten so careful around new people, like he was afraid of making the wrong move. But here he was, grinning at Jake like they were long-lost friends.

Jake caught him easily, one hand steadying Tommy's shoulder while the other ruffled his already chaotic hair. "Morning, buddy. Sleep okay?"

"Uh-huh." Tommy nodded enthusiastically. "The bed's bouncy and I could hear birds outside and Dad didn't even tell me to stop jumping on it."

Jake just laughed, this deep genuine sound that did weird things to my chest.

"Your dad's learning to pick his battles," Jake said, throwing me a look that was way too knowing. "Smart man."

Tommy beamed at both of us, and something in my chest cracked open. When was the last time I'd seen him this relaxed around anyone besides me? Vanessa's revolving door of nannies and "child development specialists" had taught him to be guarded, to measure every response. But here he was, chattering away to Jake about birds and bouncy beds like they'd known each other forever.

"Hey sport," I cut in, trying to sound more put together than I felt. "Maybe get dressed before you tell Jake all our secrets?"

"Can I wear my racing shirt?" Tommy bounced on his toes. "The one with your number?"

He still wore my merch proudly, even after everything. "Sure, buddy. Whatever you want."

As Tommy darted back to his room, Jake's eyes met mine. "He's a great kid."

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