Page 62 of Redeeming Melodies

Lie. Big fucking lie. But what else could I say?

He curled against me on the bed - Jake's guest bed that somehow felt like ours now - as I opened the book. The familiar words washed over us, but I barely registered them. Too focused on memorizing this: my son's weight against my side, his steady breathing, the way he still mouthed certain words along with me like he did when he was little.

"'The car moved on in silence,'" I read, trying to keep my voice steady. "'Harry turned to look at Ron and saw that his ears were still scarlet red.'"

Tommy's breathing deepened, each exhale a little gift. Still here. Still mine. For now.

The chapter ended but I kept reading, kept holding onto this moment like I could freeze it in amber. Save it forever, pull it out during the long nights ahead when my arms felt too empty and my house too quiet.

"Love you, Dad." The words came sleepy and soft as he drifted off.

"Love you more than racing." My voice cracked but he was already gone, lost to whatever dreams eight-year-olds have when they feel safe and loved.

I sat there in the growing dark, watching my son sleep. Memorizing the way his hair fell across his forehead, how his fingers curled around the edge of his pillow, the perfect peace of his expression. Different from how he looked at Vanessa's - no tension around his eyes, no careful mask of being whatever someone needed him to be.

Just my boy, safe and whole.

One month.

But looking at him now, something steel-hard settled in my chest. A resolve that burned hotter than any starting line adrenaline.

I'd fight. Not just in court, not just through lawyers and custody agreements. I'd fight to make this place real - our home, our future, our chance at something authentic. Fill that house by the ocean with so much love and acceptance that Tommy would never doubt his place in it.

Even if it meant facing down every judge in New York.

Even if it meant proving myself over and over.

Even if it meant admitting that maybe I needed this town, needed its quiet strength and steady rhythms, needed a certain sheriff's unwavering support.

Tommy shifted in his sleep, reaching for me like he used to when he was tiny. I caught his hand, pressed a kiss to his palm like I could seal my promise there.

"I've got you, buddy." The words came out rough, barely a whisper. "Always will."

The night settled around us, stars peeking through the window Jake had cleaned just for Tommy. Tomorrow would come, bringing its goodbyes and heart-wrench. But right now, in this quiet room with my son's heart beating steady against mine, I let myself believe.

Believe in waterfalls and hermit crabs.

Believe in small towns and second chances.

Believe that sometimes the hardest fights lead to the best victories.

Even if victory meant waiting.

Even if waiting felt like dying.

Even if believing hurt more than any crash ever could.

Tomorrow could go fuck itself.

Tonight was ours.

UNRAVELING

Hospital waiting rooms had their own kind of silence. Not the peaceful quiet of early morning patrols or the comfortable stillness of my house at night. This silence buzzed with anxiety, with unspoken fears and desperate prayers. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly pallor that made even Caleb look washed out.

Liam hadn't moved in an hour, curled into Caleb's side like an injured bird seeking shelter. Their hands stayed linked, white-knuckled and steady. Watching them, something in my chest ached - not jealousy exactly, but awareness of what I didn't have. What I'd never had.

Jimmy was in surgery. Fourth hour now. The doctor had spoken technical terms - internal bleeding, skull fracture, broken ribs - but all I'd heard was violence. Someone had deliberately hurt Jimmy.

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