Page 112 of Rescuing Sophia

Other things being specifically Blake.

The bell above the door chimes, and I look up. It’s Blake entering with his team. My heart skips a beat, just like it always does when I see him. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The distance between us, once nonexistent, now feels like a chasm.

“The usual?” I ask, already reaching for their preferred cups.

“You know us too well,” Gabe replies with a wink.

As I prepare their orders, I steal glances at Blake, hoping to catch his eye. Hoping for him to see me. To engage with me the way we used to, rather than this stilted distance that’s crept between us.

He’s deep in conversation with Ethan, probably discussing their latest mission. I miss being part of those conversations, miss being part of his world in that way. But things are different now.

I’m different.

I hand over their drinks, careful to avoid brushing Blake’s fingers as he takes his cup. The brief flash of disappointment in his eyes tells me he noticed too. We’re both trying to give each other space, but it feels wrong.

Everything feels wrong.

As they leave, Blake turns back. “See you this afternoon? For Luke’s climbing lesson?”

“We’ll be there.” Warmth spreads through my chest at the mention of my son, but Blake is only seeing Luke. He doesn’t seem excited to see me. That kills me a little on the inside.

The door closes behind them, and I’m left with Blake’s unique scent lingering in the air, and a hollow ache in my chest. I want to run after him, throw my arms around him, and beg him to come home.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

There’s too much unsaid between us, too many hurts to heal.

I glance at the clock. A few more hours, and I’ll see him again. Maybe I’ll find the courage to bridge this gap between us, and we can start to rebuild what we’ve lost.

The cavernous gymnasium echoes with the sounds of squeaking sneakers and clanking metal. I stand at the base of the towering rock wall, my neck craning as I follow Luke’s ascent. The wall spans the entire length of the football-field-sized room, stretching over 100 feet toward the ceiling. The smell of chalk and sweat hangs in the air, mingling with the faint scent of rubber from the mats below.

“You’re doing great, bro!” Blake’s voice rings out, encouragement laced with genuine excitement. He’s right beside Luke, guiding him to the next hold.

“Thanks, bro!” Luke chirps back, his small face scrunched in concentration.

Below them, Gabe and Hank man the belays, the safety system that will save my son’s life if he falls.

Only Luke never falls. He has an inborn gift for climbing like a monkey.

My heart swells at Luke and Blake’s interaction. In the weeks since our rescue, they’ve formed a bond I never dared hope for. The easy way they’ve slipped into a brotherly rapport both warms and aches my heart.

“Remember, always keep three points of contact,” Blake instructs, demonstrating the technique. “Two hands and a foot, or two feet and a hand.”

Luke nods thoughtfully, mimicking Blake’s movements. They’re about twenty feet up, and my muscles tense with each inch they climb higher.

“You’ve got this, buddy,” Blake encourages as Luke reaches for a tricky hold. “Trust your strength.”

I watch, breath held, as Luke stretches his tiny arm, fingers grasping. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he’ll fall, but then his fingers curl around the hold, and he pulls himself up.

“I did it!” Luke’s triumphant yell echoes through the gym.

“That’s my bro.” Blake high-fives him, pride radiating from his smile.

They continue their ascent, Luke growing more confident with each move. I slowly relax, trusting Blake’s careful guidance and Luke’s natural agility. The way Blake watches over Luke, anticipating his needs and offering support without hovering, speaks volumes. He’d make a fantastic father. The idea brings a bittersweet pang to my chest.

As they near the thirty-foot mark, Luke pauses, looking down at me with a mischievous grin. “Mom. Watch this.”

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