Page 65 of Loco

“No, Roque—onthe yellow flower,” he emphasized from the back seat, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Bird was blue, and it was eatin’ the middle.The middle.”

I smiled as I killed the engine, soaking in every word of his ramble. It sounded trippy as hell, like some psychedelic scene from a dream or a kid’s cartoon, but the way he told it had me locked in.

It was the sound of him coming back to himself.

Kairo hadn’t been this open since he’d come to live with me. After his parents died, he’d shut down and withdrawn. There was a blankness behind his eyes that used to gut me. But now he was talking again. Dreaming and letting himself be that little boy again for a while.

I had a strong feeling part of that shift came from Sayla.

She’d worked her magic in that room—car decals on the walls, cop dog bedding, and a little nightlight glowing the most beautiful light across the ceiling. The kind of space that told a kidyou belong here. I’d read about how important it was for foster kids to have a room that felt liketheirs, not just a place to sleep. It helped with the fear and the sadness they couldn’t name yet and made them feel wanted and safe.

I glanced at Sayla’s place as I got the kids out of their seats—there was no sign of her car, and a little pang tugged at me.

She was usually home before me on Thursdays, so I wondered where she’d gone. She could be doing errands or maybe visiting her sister. Still, I couldn’t help the quiet flicker of worry that came with caring about someone more than you planned to.

Headlights washed over the front yard as I set Kaida down, and her little body jolted with recognition.

“Saylaaaa!” she shrieked, bouncing on her heels.

Kairo waved, his smile stretching wide. “Hi, Sayla!”

She stepped out of the car smiling, keys in hand, hair catching the last of the sun. The second she saw them, she softened like they were her own.

“Hey, guys,” she called, walking over. “You two have a good day?”

Kaida stretched her arms out toward her and pointed to the front door, already making demands in toddler-speak. Sayla just laughed.

“Oh, you wanna go in? Well, alright then, lead the way.”

I turned the alarm off and held the door open while she shepherded them inside. They were both already competing to be the first to tell her everything. Kairo was still caught up on the sunflower bird, and Kaida was mostly stringing sounds together with random toy names thrown in. But Sayla listened like they were giving a press conference.

She took them to the bathroom to wash their hands, still chatting with them, patient as ever. That warmth of hers—that ability to tune into them like they were the only thing that mattered—was something I hadn’t known I’d been missing until it showed up in the house next door.

A thought hit me as I leaned in the doorway, watching her crouch to dry Kaida’s hands with a smile. Kairo’s birthday, he was turning three in a month.

God, it snuck up fast. It felt like I was still learning to be the guy they relied on, and now I was supposed to throw a party, too. Still, Iwantedto. I wanted it to be big, loud, and full of color, cake, and chaos. I wanted him to feel celebrated—like the world had never been happier to have him in it.

I made a mental note to talk to Sayla about it later and maybe ask her sister to do the cake. She’d made a beautiful one for her daughter a while back, and I’d been obsessed with it for days afterward. The detail and almost art-like decorations on the cake had been outstanding, and don’t even get me started on the taste. It was a work of art.

We were piecing together something here—something messy and beautiful, and I’d be damned if I didn’t give that kid a birthday worth remembering.

When Kaida’s hands were dry, she turned to Sayla and tugged at her fingers, leading her with determined little steps toward the kitchen.

“Din-dins,” she sang, looking back with that big-eyed seriousness only toddlers could pull off. “Sayla, din-dins.”

Sayla laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Is that my invitation?”

I smiled. “Looks like it.”

She looked at me as I opened the fridge and pulled out what I needed for dinner. “What’s on the menu?”

“Salmon and pea risotto,” I said. “Figured it’s soft and easy for them to eat. The cheese hides the peas, so they barely notice them. Plus, it looked simple enough not to mess up.”

She leaned against the counter. “Want me to make it?”

I glanced at her, noting she was trying to sound casual, but the fatigue was written all over her face. Her eyes had that kind of heaviness that came from a long day with no real break.

“Nah, you’ve been on your feet all day, go chill with the kids. I’ve got this.”

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