Page 57 of Redeeming Melodies

"We'll start with the basics, Speed Racer." I chuckled, loving his enthusiasm. "Got to learn walking before you can run."

"Dad?" His voice went thoughtful. "Do you miss it? The racing?"

I glanced at him, those green eyes so much like mine watching me carefully. "Some parts. The speed, the challenge. But you know what I don't miss?"

"What?"

"Missing out on moments like this." I reached over to squeeze his shoulder. "Besides, got a different kind of race to win now."

"The custody thing?" Sometimes I forgot how perceptive he was.

"Yeah, buddy. But don't worry about that, okay? Let's focus on finding the best climbing trees in Oakwood Grove instead."

His grin returned full force. "And the best places for pit stop practice!"

"And the best places for pit stop practice," I agreed, watching him bounce back to pointing out every fascinating thing we passed. Maybe this town, with its quiet streets and endless possibilities, was exactly the fresh start we both needed.

The coast road wound ahead of us, all sun-dappled curves and ocean glimpses. Tommy had his window down, letting the salt air mess up his hair in a way that would drive Vanessa crazy. Good. Let him be wild for once. Let him be a fucking kid.

"Is that it?" He spotted the house before I did, somehow knowing exactly which one was ours. Maybe because it looked a bit lost, a bit rough around the edges. Like us.

"That's home, sport." The word caught in my throat. Home. Not a hotel suite or a temporary rental. Home.

I was barely able to stop before Tommy was out, running toward the house like it was Christmas morning. Couldn't blame him - place had good bones, even if it needed work. Two stories of weathered cedar shakes and wide windows, all of it singing with potential under the peeling paint.

"Dad!" His voice carried pure joy. "The backyard goes all the way to the beach!"

The yard was overgrown, wooden deck needed replacing, but fuck if it wasn't perfect. Trees for climbing, space for whatever the hell we wanted, and that view - endless ocean stretched out like possibility.

"What do you think, bud?" I tried to keep my voice casual. "Think we can make this home?"

Tommy spun around, face split with the kind of grin I hadn't seen since before the divorce. "It's awesome! Can we have aswing? And maybe a sandbox? And-" He stopped, uncertainty creeping in. "I mean, if that's okay."

"Whatever you want." I crouched down to his level, making sure he saw how serious I was. "This is our place. We make the rules here."

His eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really." My throat felt tight. "No more tiptoeing around, okay? This is home. Your home."

He launched himself at me, almost knocking us both over. His arms squeezed tight around my neck, and fuck if I wasn't blinking back tears.

"Love you, Dad."

"Love you more than racing," I whispered our old joke, holding him close.

The house needed work - new roof, updated kitchen, probably rewiring. But watching my son plan swing sets and sandbox castles, none of that mattered. We'd build it together, make it ours piece by piece. No more temporary stops, no more living out of suitcases between races.

"Dad!" Tommy's voice pulled me from thoughts of contractor estimates. "Can my room be the one with the big window? The one that faces the ocean?"

"'Course it can." Walking over to where he was bouncing with excitement, I saw what caught his eye. The bedroom overlooked both the water and that perfect climbing tree. "Good choice, buddy."

He beamed up at me, and fuck, when did he get so tall? "This is way better than Mom's new place."

"Hey buddy?" I kept my voice steady, watching Tommy examine a seashell like it held the secrets of the universe. "Why don't you explore the yard for a bit? Maybe scope out where that treehouse should go?"

"Really?" His face lit up. "Can I go all the way to the beach?"

"Just stay where I can see you." The rules came automatically, parent mode kicking in despite the phone burning a hole in my pocket. "And no swimming without me."

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