Repression? More Like Depressions Amirite hahahaha

Doctors shouting orders over the beeping of heart monitors and the clicking wheels of gurneys as paramedics bring more patients in. Nurses rushing from station to station in a haze of movement and noise, carrying cooling blankets and dishing them out in the waiting room and halls because there simply wasn’t enough space in the trauma bays, while also keeping an eye for disorientation and other side effects. 

Robby had just stepped out of a bike accident, a teenager whose shoulder had dislocated upon impact with the ground and who was suffering from some internal bleeding after being hit in the stomach with the handles as they crested over a hill, he had done what he could. Stabilised him and got him prepped for surgery, the case was no longer in his hands. 

He steps up to the nurses desk, hand running down his face as he takes a deep breath. The clock was just ticking over to 1pm, what would be the half-way point of the shift, but something inside him knew he was going to be here much longer than 7pm. He smiles softly to Dana who offers him a bottle of water, somewhere along the way she had been put in charge of making sure everyone stayed hydrated because lord knows everyone would have forgotten and then they would really be in shit when doctors and nurses started dropping because of heat stroke. 

He offers a soft ‘thanks’ as he takes slow sips of the water, it's ice cold and he’s grateful for the shock it delivers to his system, for the way he can already feel the headache brewing starting to fade. His hand shakes a little as he holds it, but soon settles as Dana hands him a chart after a few seconds.One for the last patient, and he fills it in quickly so he’s ready to jump into action for the next patient that comes through. Which doesn’t take long.

“Male, 9 years old. Took a fall at the park, a potential fractured ankle and a small head contusion.” 

He goes to move, to take a step away from the nurses desk to get the patient, but Dana stops him. A gentle hand on his arm to hold him in place, and he gives her a puzzled look.

“Collins, this one’s yours.”

Robby’s eye brows pinch up in confusion and he goes to argue but then he looks to the child on the stretcher, eyes casting over the face of the paramedics and to the frazzled mother at their side. It takes him a second, his brain racing to catch up with what he’s seeing. He refuses to believe it’s real, that it wasn’t his imagination and heart playing tricks on him like it had a thousand times before. 

He shakes his head, rubs his eyes, then looks again to see if the face has morphed but it hasn’t.  It’s you. It had been nearly ten years, and yet here you stood. Eyes wide with worry and hands clutched in the little boys as he sniffles and rubs away the tears in his eyes. 

Eyes that look strangely like his, a deep hazel with flecks of green and gold that reflect little starbursts when hit with the light. He scans the boy, taking in his face and features. The wild unruly dark hair, the tip and point of his nose, even the way his mouth curves down in a frown are so shockingly similar that Robby has to remember to breathe. 

He stands still for a heartbeat, mind racing with a thousand possibilities and reasonings. It could simply be coincidence, you had met someone new and started a family with them. He could be adopted and just share similarities with Robby and because he hadn’t seen you in so long he was grasping at any form of connection. 

But then your eyes meet Robby's. There’s a flicker of unnamed emotion, then panic, then protectiveness as you step closer to the gurney and position yourself so Robby can no longer see the boy. He goes to take a step towards you, but is gently pulled back by Dana as she whispers, “not now”, just barely heard over the pounding of his heart that matches the rhythm of the monitors around them. 

Then Doctor Collins approaches, a warm smile on her face as she takes the two of you back to the peds bay. You’re gone in a matter of seconds, the door to peds sliding closed and breaking whatever tension had been building in Robby. He stumbles backwards, tailbone hitting the edge of the desk as he reaches his hand behind him to stabilize himself. 

Dizziness now swarmed his head and made the world spin. His whole world had just tilted on its axis and he didn’t know how he was going to go on now, if he could even go on like he was before. There’s a thundering in his ears, the rush of his own blood as his heart pounds so heavily against his ribs he’s surprised it doesn’t just rip out and throw itself on the floor. Nausea wells in his stomach, burns at his throat, and he can’t seem to get a full breath in. 

Then there’s coolness against the back of his neck, like ice pressed against his skin. His hand is lifted to a chest and through muddled sounds he can just make out someone asking him to follow their breathing pattern. He tries, and initially fails, but the icy coldness starts to shock his nervous system back into a normal rhythm and he does it. Deep breaths rattle against his chest and fill his lungs with blessed air, his heart starts to slow down just a little and the rushing in his ears fades. His head still spins a little, but it’s manageable now. 

He’s sitting now, but Robby doesn’t know when that happened, in one of the desk chairs and he’s shielded behind the barriers around the nurses stations where prying eyes can’t watch him seemingly fall apart. Dana is in front of him, his hand still placed on her chest as he mirrors her breathing, eyes full of concern but not scrutiny. As if she expected this to happen the minute you walked through the door. 

There’s silence for a few beats, seconds really, as Robby comes back into his body. He feels the sticky heat of the room, how his scrubs rub uncomfortably against his skin, the creaks and cracks of his joints as he clenches and unclenches his free hand as if he’s trying to hold onto something that exists only in his imagination. Sounds filter back in, the shuffle of feet and the beat of heart monitors suddenly overwhelming and loud and he flinches back at them slightly. 

He removes his hand from Dana’s hold and leans forward with his elbows and his knees as he rubs at his face anxiously. There’s a choked sound from him, like holding back tears, as he looks at her. 

“How old is he?”

Dana lets out a sigh, eyes scanning over this face because they both already know the answer, “9 almost 10.”

“Fuck”

Robby leans back fully into the chair now, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as if they could stop him from crying. It works, for now. 

“You know you can’t go in there.”

Dana’s voice is soft, calming, a mother setting a boundary with an upset child. She knew what he was going to do before he even did, and he just sighs and throws his head back against the rim of the chair. He wants to go in, to see you. To see his son. The word felt like a cinder block in the dead center of his chest. But he can’t. 

“I know”

And he doesn’t, at least not right away. The next three hours are a blur of patients and treatments, instinct over riding choice as he flows through them with head (and heart) half way in peds and with what was happening there. Then he gets a pediatric case, a five year old girl who had slipped on the edge of the pool and hit her head, Dana insists he reassign it but everyone else is busy with their own patients. So, he goes with the young girl and her family through the sliding glass doors and into the pediatric unit. 

He spots you almost immediately, eyes drawn to you like you were his center of gravity. You're sitting on the bed, eyes staring intently at Collins as she goes over treatment, but your hand is in the boys. Clasped tight and rubbing soothing circles into the skin as his other hand plays with a toy plane. Distracted, happy if the smile was anything to go by. Kids always were resilient little things. 

He can finally take you in properly, not much had changed in the 10 years since he had seen you. Your hair was a little different, maybe a little bit shorter and styled in a way he hadn’t seen before. It framed your face beautifully. There were little crinkles at the side of your eyes, the beginning of crows feet starting to form and laugh lines decorated your forehead like a map leading him to treasure. Your eyes were the same. Beautiful, sharp, always observing and watching. A kaleidoscope of colours that he had spent endless nights getting lost in all those years ago. Even under the clean fluorescence of the hospital lights, there was something golden and magnetic about them. 

You were as beautiful as the day you met, and the day he lost you. 

As his patient is transferred to the bed, with the help of Mataeo and Donnie, he offers her a warm smile. Her parents stand at the end of the bed, hands clasped together so tight that Robby worries they’ll cut off each other's circulation, he had never understood a parent's worry before. Not truly. He could empathize with them, but he had never felt that bone-deep panic and fear of wondering if your child would be okay even if it was a simple graze on the knee, but as his eyes snap to the young boy at your side some part of him finally understands. 

The cinderblock presses down against his chest, makes it hard to breath and makes every move he makes disjointed, he has to think about what he’s doing now rather than following routine. He knows he has no right to feel like that, he didn’t even know the boy but as he watched the way he smiled up at you and how he laughed with Collins as she told a silly story, he can’t help the way his heart twists itself into knots. He’s not sure if it's worry about his health, or the grief of never knowing him that causes it. 

As he treats the girl in front of him, who had proudly proclaimed her name as Amelia, he keeps his eyes off you. He patches up the cut on her forehead with some derma-bond, making sure to tell her if wouldn’t leave a scar when it healed because she was sad she wouldn’t be pretty anymore with a scar, and goes through the concussion protocol with practised ease. Though he’s pretty sure she’s cleared of any concussions, he asks Mataeo to put in a CT order just so they can be sure. 

His eyes drift over to you again, only to find you watching him as Collins motions him over. Your shoulders are rigid, tension obvious as you move almost robotically while turning to the boy who had asked you a question. Where there was a harshness in your eyes when you looked at him, there’s now softness and love as you whisper low enough for only him to hear. There’s a giggle that passes his lips, soft and sweet and it sends a sharp spear of grief through Robby's heart. 

“Everything okay Doctor Collins?”

Robby approached slowly, making sure to stay at the foot of the bed by Collin’s side and not up close to you. His eyes stay on the boy, who's smiling up at him warmly and there's another stab to his heart. Collins looks up at him, offering up the tablet with a smile and a nod.

“Yeah, just want a second opinion on the x-ray.” 

As he eyes the x-ray, he takes in the name Isaac. It had been his grandfather's name, one he had told you he wanted to use if you had ever had kids. He has to clear his throat to try and subdue the well of emotion that was rising inside of it. He spends much longer looking at the x-rays than he really should, using it as a distraction so he could avoid looking at you and Isaac. 

He looks away when you clear your throat, eyes slightly downcast so you’re not looking straight at him. He hands the tablet back to Collins, eyes moving to Isaac who busies himself with the multiple planes and cars in his lap. 

“Looks like a Salter-Harris type three”

Collins nods to his words with a soft sigh, “That’s what I thought.”

Both Robby and Collins give Isaac a sympathetic smile as Robby takes a step back from the bed, “I’ll put the call into ortho”

Collins nods as she turns her attention back to you and Isaac, taking time and care to explain what the next steps of treatment would be. Your eyes snap up to Robby’s for just a fraction of a second, not even a full heartbeat, and he can see the panic and worry in them. The need for reassurance that this was the best path, but he can’t give that. Instead he ducks his head down and turns around, slipping out past the sliding glass doors where he takes a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“You alright?”

Dana’s voice stretches over the thrall of beeping machines and hushed conversations from where she stands at the nurses desk, hand propped on her hip as she eyes him up and down. As if she’s taking emotional stock of him in case he collapses again. 

“Yeah I’m good.”

There’s a scratchiness to voice, a husky timber that shows he is not, in fact, good. Dana nods her head unconvincingly, eyes moving to the ambulance bay doors as she tilts her head towards them, “Why don’t you go get some air? We’re good here”

Robby just nods his head, ducking down and keeping his chin close to his chest as he shoves his hands into his pocket and makes his way out to the ambulance bay. It's quiet there, beeping and voices being contained by sliding glass doors, there's no rig with blaring sirens and flashing lights. The heat feels heavy against his chest, but it's a welcome relief compared to the cinder block that had lodged itself between his ribs and right against his heart. 

As he leans against the wall, head gently thudding against the brick as he repeatedly rubs at his face, Robby wishes he was a smoker and could smoke away all the feelings inside of him as he thought back to that final fight. 

_____

It was late December, in that space between Christmas and New Years where time didn’t seem real and people seemed to exist in a vacuum of joy and holiday spirit. In a rare occurrence of meteorological mystery, the sky over Pittsburgh is clear. The moon and stars twinkled and streaked the city in rays of silver, it was almost dream-like. Time frozen still as the world took a much needed breath. 

But inside your apartment, it was a war zone. Robby had come home to lamp lights dim as you rushed around the apartment and picked up clothes and documents. Special, sentimental items, shoving them in different boxes and a suitcase that lay on what was once your shared bed. But neither of you knew the last time you had both slept in it together, it was probably a few weeks before Christmas after one too many drinks at your office holiday party. 

You’re silent as you pack, don’t even acknowledge Robby as he steps into the room. Your eyes are sharp, clinical, narrowed into a glare any time you look at him. When he first walked in, he was shell shocked. Hand hovering over the coat rack where he intended to place his hoodie, but he was frozen in place. His mind whirled and tried to reckon with what was happening.

“Honey…”

His voice was soft as he spoke, footsteps light as he tried to approach you. A predator approaching a wounded animal, trying to convince them they are safe. The cat and the mouse. The cat desperately trying to claim they’ve changed and the mouse refusing to believe it a second time. 

You are having none of it, eyes narrowed into a tight glare that causes Robby to shrink back and if looks could kill he would be dead 50 times over. He puts his hands up, a sign of silent surrender, as you continue to move around the room. He desperately wants to stop you, to change things. To make things better.

“Tell me what's going on”

You freeze, body hunched over the coffee table where some of your favourite books lay, your shoulders were already tight with tension but now they’re even tighter. Coiling up like a cobra ready to strike. You're slow as you rise, deliberately slow, and there’s a look in your eyes that is absolutely deadly. 

“Whats going on?”

There’s an edge to your voice, a dangerous undercurrent of devastation and rage culminating in a deadly strike against Robby’s heart. He looks confused, face scrunched up and eyes wide, and devastated. Body curling in on itself protectively, shoulder slumped and head dipped just enough that he can still maintain eye contact with you. A man bracing for impact just before it comes.

“What's going on is I’m done.” 

Your last word is edged with a finality he hadn’t heard before, not in previous arguments, and one that left no space for argument or for fixing things. You throw your hands up, not dramatically but in resignation.

“I’m done with the empty promises and the waiting and the lies.”

Your voice breaks then, the quiet devastation that had been festering for months crawling to the surface, claws digging into your heart and not letting go. Tears form at your lash line, but they don’t fall. You refuse to let them.

“I am tired of begging you to be here. To be home. To be present. To be my fucking husband.”

His ring feels heavy on his finger now, the metal burning its way through flesh and into bone. A reminder of the promises he had made two years ago, one he knows he’s failed to maintain recently. There’s a weight in his chest, a heavy grief and pain that lodges itself under his ribs. 

His face morphs from confusion to sadness, grief evident in his eyes and in the slope of his mouth as it turns down into a frown. It almost breaks you, the wolf turned into a puppy. But you can’t let it. 

“I…” A half-step forward, a hand reaching out to touch you that falls by his side, a rattling breath as emotion rises inside of him. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, Robby wasn’t one to cry. Not one to break. He was the pinnacle of strength. But this, this was shattering him. 

“I’m trying… please… don’t do this.” 

There’s a crack in his voice, one that pierces the armour you had drawn around yourself. But mentally, you just pull it closer around you. Refusing to let any weaknesses through.

“I booked that trip you wanted, got tickets to the concert you wanted to go to. I’m try -”

You cut him off then, one hand in the air as you rapidly blink away the tears that had formed. There’s a terrifying calmness in your voice now, one that’s more devastating than the silence or shouting. A quiet finality. A confirmation that this was the end.

“Were you trying when you took that overtime shift instead of coming out to dinner for my birthday?” 

A step towards him.

“Were you trying when, instead of being by my side after my grandma got sick, you went out with Jack?” 

Another step.

“Were you trying when you told me a major trauma had come in and you had to stay later, only for my friends to see you out drinking?” 

And another. 

“ You’re never here. I love you but I didn’t marry a ghost.”

Your voice was sharp, clear. Every letter edged with the tip of a blade as you spoke, one that cut deep into Robby’s skin. Leaving him bloody and bruised, scars forming in jagged marks across his heart. Then you were gone, a friend arriving moments later to load your things into their car before you drove off into the night.  Leaving Robby in a half-empty apartment, hollow of all the things that made it a home. 

_____

It’s the sound of your voice that pulls him out of his reverie. Soft, sweet like honey as it dripped down his spine and caused a shiver to rattle his body. He opens his eyes to look at you, tracking you as you pace back and forth in place. Your phone is up to your ear, voice low as you explain to whoever's on the other end that Isaac needs surgery. When you notice him, eyes widening just a fraction, you quickly end the call with a promise to work from home and a goodbye.

Silence stretches over you, a prickly blanket that sticks into your skin. It’s uncomfortable. More suffocating than the heat. You sigh, eyes cast to the ground, then there’s a deep breath. A step, and then another, until you’re leaning back against the wall beside Robby. 

Another beat of silence, the sound of beeping horns and pedestrians filling the space. You close your eyes for half a second, head leaning back against the wall as you take a deep breath. Robby breaks the silence first.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice breaks, cracking right at the end. The emotions he had been so desperately trying to hold onto finally spilling out.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything Michael”

Your voice is softer now, a whisper that’s almost lost in the wind as you look to the ground, foot pushing around an invisible piece of dirt. “You were a ghost, and he needed a father. I…”

You look up at Robby now, the words catching in your throat as you take a gulp and a deep breath, “I didn’t trust that you could be that.” 

Another stretch of silence, the rush of blood and a strong heartbeat filling Robby’s ears. First there's anger. Anger for the fact that you had kept this from him. Anger for the fact that he didn’t see his first steps, his first words, his first tooth falling out. Anger for the fact that he had messed up once and you took something so important away from him. 

Then there’s realisation. That it wasn’t just once. It was time and time and time again where he failed to show up for you. Failed to be there when you needed him. Failed in being a husband. He had thought providing stability and comfort, a hand to hold when things got hard, was enough. But it wasn’t. What you needed was consistency, showing love in the small little things of everyday life and not the grand romantic gestures he always used to try and pacify you (something he had only realised after being told off by Dana when the divorce was finalised). He didn’t give you that.

That then leads to understanding. He understood why you did it, it was self-preservation. He had hurt you before, and he could hurt you again, could have hurt your son, if you had stayed. Another deep breath, this time from Robby, as he crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from you.

There’s a crack of thunder in the sky, then a flash of lightning. Suddenly there’s heavy rain, the pavement slick wet in a matter of seconds. Protected under the shelter of the ambulance bay, only a few small ricochets of water hit you. Suddenly the air isn’t stifling or sticky, it doesn’t suffocate. It’s clear. Clean. Cleansing the world to allow for new beginnings. 

“Can I meet him, properly?”

Robby eyes are on you again, hope lacing every colour and fracture of gold as they reflect the sun rays through the clouds. You take a deep breath, hands clenching in front of you. It’s been ten years, you're a different person than you were at twenty-seven, and maybe (hopefully) Robby is too.

“Yes, you can.”

It’s nearly three hours later, the clock just ticking over to 7.30 pm that Robby comes to see you again. His last patient was treated, handover was completed with Jack who looked at him quizzically when he didn’t head for the locker room. 

“You staying late?” 

Jack's voice is quiet, it's not unusual for day shift to stay late. Especially after such a chaotic shift, but things had mellowed out. The late afternoon thunderstorm slowed things down to a manageable pace, so there was no need for Robby to stay. 

“I’ve got something I need to do before I go.”

Jack raises his eyebrow, a question brewing on his tongue that he swallows down when he sees your maiden name listed next to a peds case. One click and he sees you listed as the mother and emergency contact. A puzzle piece slots into place, something to file away for later. 

Then Robby’s gone from the handover desk, disappearing behind sliding glass doors and colourful walls with painted animals. His heart beats heavy against his chest, the cinder block that had lodged underneath his rips starting to crack just a little, the weight lightning just a fraction. Anxiety roils in his stomach, flipping over and over and causing nausea to rise in his throat. 

Then he sees you and Isaac. His leg propped up in a sling high above the bed, his head pressed into your chest as you lay beside him on the bed. Your voice is quiet, whispered so as not to disturb the other patients, but melodic as you read to him. There is an old, well-worn and obviously loved, copy of The Golden Compass in your hand. 

Robby recognises it immediately, having seen the copy in your shared home once upon a time. He remembered briefly, the sound of your voice as you read it to him one night when you first started dating. The sound of your voice pushing him over the edge to sleep. Sometimes, he still heard it in his dreams.

He stops for a second, just a little bit away from the bed, and takes a deep breath. His heart quietens down, his anxiety dissipates just a little. Then there’s a sensation of peace. A quiet recognition of it was always meant to be this way. He wasn’t ready to be a father back then, hell he probably wasn’t even ready to be a husband, but now the moment seemed right.  

Your eyes glance up, some unnamed but not unknown instinct telling you that Robby was there. You smile at him, quiet. Soft. But still guarded. Still observing. Isaac follows your movement, his head turning slightly to turn to Robby. He’s tired, eyes flickering closed every few seconds as he tries to fight to stay awake, but he still smiles. Warm, bright. Loved. 

“Hi”

Again your voice is quiet, barely carrying over the sound of monitors and machines that fill the room, but Robby smiles at it. Gentle. Soft. A man who recognises how precious this moment is and wants to bottle it up to carry with him forever. 

“Hi”

Robby’s voice is similarly quiet but where there is a quiet confidence in yours, there’s a hint of anxiety and unsure energy mixed in his. You motion your head to the side, towards the visitors chair you had been sitting in earlier that now lay at the side of the bed closest to Isaac. He hesitates for just a moment, your eyebrow raising slightly as your smile widens. You had never seen the man so unsure in the hospital. Then he sits, pulling up close to the bed where he now leans his forearms against the guard rails. 

There’s silence for a moment, the echo of heart beats through monitors surrounding you both. Then Isaac turns to him, hand reaching out gently cupping his jaw as he stares at Robby intently. Then there’s a wide smile on his face, a giggle passing through his lips.

“You have the same eyes as me! Mom likes to call the gold flakes little starbursts.”

Something catches in Robby’s throat at the contact, emotion welling inside him and rising to the surface once again. Under the dimmed down lights, you think you can see tears starting to well in his eyes as his adams apple bobs. His hand reaches up to softly cup Isaac’s, gentle. Feather-light, barely touching him at all. 

“Yeah buddy I do.”

Robby’s voice is softer now, a quiet kind of reverence for the life in front of him leaking through. It's the same voice you had after giving birth and Isaac was set against your chest. A parent, falling in love with their child in a single moment. Robby’s eyes flash to yours, filled with sadness and grief but also love and gratitude for this moment. He is all too aware that you could have told him no, but you didn’t and hope bloomed in his bones. 

“Isaac,” Your voice is soft as you call to your son, and he turns to you with a quizzical look as his hand drops from Robby. There’s unnamed emotions in your voice, a combination of fear and anxiety and hope all merging into one.

“Yeah mom?”

Anxiety fills you, causes your fingers to shake as you dog ear your book and set it to the side, one hand reaches out to gently brush at Isaac’s hair more a comfort for you than him.

“You remember how, when you asked me about your dad, I told you he was a very good doctor that I knew a long time ago? Who had starbursts in his eyes and goodness in his veins?” 

Isaac nods his head, head now laying down against the pillow where he can dart his eyes between you and Robby. You can see the wheels turning in his head, connections starting to form, he was a very intelligent child afterall. 

“Well…” Your voice catches in your throat and you have to clear it gently before you continue, “This is Michael, he’s your dad.”

Isaac’s eyes bulge slightly, realisation settling into place. Then there’s a frown on his face, one that is exactly like Robby’s and you gently trail your hand down from his hair and too Isaac’s cheek where your knuckles rub softly against the skin in soothing motions. There’s silence again, not tense. But anticipatory. A spark not yet meeting a flame. 

Isaac’s eyes move to Robby’s, tears starting to fill in the waterline, his voice shaky and breaking as he talks, and yours and Robby’s heart break at the sound.

“Why weren’t you there?”

You instantly curl around Isaac more, pulling his head into your chest once again as the tears start to fall, one hand threading through his hair to rub gently at his scalp while the other rubs soft soothing circles in his shoulder.

“Oh baby…” 

Concern laces your voice, as soft whimpers leave Isaac. Robby is shell shocked for just a moment, frozen in time as the question settles against his skin and his mind races for an answer. Then instinct takes over, a hand reaching out to Isaacs where he gently threads their fingers together, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. He expects Isaac to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead his small fingers tighten against Robby’s hand. Then there’s a breath, a single heart beat, before Robby speaks.

“Oh buddy…I,” He clears his throat, his own tears now starting to slowly fall and streak his face in lines of salt, the cinder block on his chest cracks again. Debris falling and allowing him to breath fully for the first time all shift “I didn’t know.”

Robby’s eyes snap to your momentarily, not in blame or accusation, but a look of I’m going to try my best to handle this. 

“I wasn’t very nice to your mom before we split up, so she moved away to keep you and her safe.”

Isaac nods into your chest, seemingly happy to accept the answer. The tears have stopped flowing, though the lines still streak his face, and you gently rub them off the skin. Isaac squirms away from the action, pulling the two of you apart and you let out a chuckle, it seems you had run out of your allotted affection time for the day. But he keeps his hand in Robby's. 

“Do you wanna know how I broke my foot?”

There’s joy lacing the words, the kind that only a child could have when telling the story of an injury. To them, they were battle scars. Tales to be told around the playground and friends to show how tough they are. It makes you laugh, full, unrestrained, head thrown back slightly as you sit up and get off the bed. 

You place a kiss on Isaac's forehead, eyes darting to Robby’s for a second, soft smile now a little less guarded than it was before. “I’m gonna go get a coffee, do you want one?”

He looks at you, recognising you’re giving him a moment alone with Isaac, a huge step. One he doesn’t know if he’s ready for, but it will only be for a few moments, so he nods. 

“Can I have a soda?”

You turn to Isaac and scrunch up your nose, squeezing his cheeks playfully as you shake your head, “You’re not allowed one until after your surgery bug, doctors orders”

He grumples, looking to Robby for a bit of back-up but Robby shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, “No buddy, you need to wait.”

Isaac huffs, arms crossing over his chest as you walk out of the room. But it doesn’t last long, you can hear him start the story of how broke his foot as the door slides closed behind you. 

Robby is immediately enamoured with the story, the lilt of Isaac’s voice as he excitedly tells him about the trick he was trying to do on the jungle gym in the park. Something he had seen a gymnast do on TV that was relatively easy in theory, harder in execution. He couldn’t help but smile as Isaac babbled on about how he had gotten this close (fingers pinching together until there was barely any room between them) but slipped at the last minute. 

He promised him he would watch the video you had taken of it before it went wrong to see how well he did. As Isaac speaks, his hand falls away from Robby’s and he mourns the warmth for a moment. The physical connection fizzled against his skin almost like a brand, one he was proud to have. Robby leans a little further forward, elbow now leaning against the guard rail as he uses his palm to support his chin. He smiles at the wide grin on Isaac’s face as he proudly proclaims he's going to try again once his leg is better.

One story turns to another, this time about how he took a dive at the pool and the water went up his nose and made his brain feel fuzzy, and then another and another. Snippets of Isaac’s life slipping out as though it’s as easy as breathing. Grief and sadness wedges itself between Robby’s ribs for having missed the moments, there’s guilt there too. An internal reckoning of how he treated you and that led to this. He promised himself he would do better this time. 

As you watch Robby and Isaac from behind the door, a decent distance away to stop them from opening, with a warm smile on your face you feel a bump against your hip. You already know who it is before even looking and you bump back against him as his chuckle fills your ears.

“It’s good to see you kid”

You turn your head and smile at Jack, warm. Friendly. 

“Good to see you too Jack.”

He glances back through the glass doors of peds, eyes carefully watching Robby as he laughs at whatever absurd story Isaac is now telling him. His head is thrown back, his hand clutching his chest. Without even hearing it, you and Jack can both tell it's one of those unrestrained belly laughs that he only lets out when he’s fully relaxed.

There’s a moment of silence as you both stand there watching, the coffee in your hands warming you up and reminding you that you need to go back in. A deep breath, a settling feeling of peace and acceptance lodging itself in between your ribs.  

“He’s gonna be a good dad to that kid.”

You don’t question Jack on how he knows, figure he put the pieces together from Isaac’s birthdate and how he now acted with Robby. He also just had a way of knowing things, maybe it was the veteran in him, always observing and watching. Pattern recognition and things like that kicking in until puzzle pieces fit perfectly into place. 

Then you surprise yourself, the thought almost intrusive as it spills out of you before you can think, “Yeah, he is.”

Then you're slipping away from Jack, heading back into peds with a smile on your face. It’s then that Jack is joined by Ellis, arms crossed against her chest and eyes watching you disappear. “So…”

Jack raises an eyebrow as he turns away from the door and heads towards the nurses desk where his charting awaits him, she walks in step beside him.

“Who was that?”

Then there’s a small, conspiratorial smile on Jack's face. Mischief lacing every feature and his voice drops low, almost teasing.

“Just Robby’s ex-wife.”

Then he walks away to go see a patient, calm. Casual. As if he didn’t just drop a bombshell in the middle of the emergency room that left Ellis with her jaw on the floor. 

The doors of the peds bay slide to a close behind you, and you can’t help but smile at the wide grin stretching across Isaac’s lips. For a boy who was fighting to stay awake only 15 minutes earlier, he’s now full of life and a new found energy. You never ceased to wonder where he found it. 

You try and approach softly, but the heels of your shoes echo softly around the room. You cringe slightly at the sound, eyes scanning the faces of the other sleeping children and parents to make sure you don’t disturb any of them. Instead of going back to sitting on the bed beside Isaac, you stand beside Robby. Just close enough to feel the fabric of his scrubs rub against your jeans and the heat that radiates from his body. 

He looks up at you, eyes mystified and in awe of your son. Full of softness and warmth, guilt bubbled between your ribs. It’s a feeling you’ve felt before, many times, especially at night where your thoughts spiral and you lose yourself in questions of what if? It sits uncomfortably, like clawed hands reaching their way through your chest and holding onto your heart. Not squeezing, but letting you know it’s there. 

A soft ‘thanks’ passes through Robby’s lips, quiet like a whisper into the night, as you hand him the cup of coffee. Your fingers brush his, a micro touch more than anything but it still fizzles against your skin. Heat spreads through them, like you had touched a candle flame. Hot enough to feel and burn, but not enough to leave a permanent mark. 

There’s a hitch in breath, both yours and Robby’s, and his hand is slow to move away. As if he craves the contact but knows it's dangerous to ask for any more. You can see the tightening in his shoulders, the way his pinky twitches against the edge of the cardboard cup as if he’s holding himself back. You clear your throat before going to respond, an attempt to break the small amount of tension now building, but the sound of the door and hushed voices as they approach stop you.

You glance to the door, recognising the orthopedic surgeon as they stop at the bottom of the bed. There’s a brief smile from them, then a look of confusion as they see Robby sitting beside you. He smiles at them. Small, contained. Like he’s holding on to something precious that’s about to be revealed to the world. 

“Doctor Robinavitch, I didn’t realise you were consulting on this case.”

A deep breath from Robby, realisation settling into his bones that this is real. He had obviously known it was real before, you had confirmed it for him. It had settled in his heart and his mind that this was his son, but he hadn’t spoken it aloud to anyone else yet. Another crack in the cinderblock on his chest as he clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’m not…” 

He glances at you, a micro beat, seeking both reassurance and permission which you give with a stiff nod. He notices the hesitation, the way your shoulders tighten just a micro fraction and how your grip now crinkles in the sides of the coffee cup, files it away for later discussion, and accepts the motion. He clears his throat again, eyes casting over to Isaac who’s once again trying to fight sleep. His smile instantly softens, the hand he had on the guard rails reaching for Isaacs where he softly holds it.

“He’s my son.” 

There’s a look of shock on the surgeon, and the nursing team's face (their eyes glancing towards one another in silent conversation) but it quickly passes. A softness spreads across their faces now, bed side manner kicking in as the surgeon clears their throat. 

“Okay. Well, we’re ready to bring Isaac up to surgery now.” 

You nod to her words, drawing your arms tight around you as if they can shield you from the hurt a botched surgery might cause. From the anxiety once again welling in your stomach and forcing its way through your veins. Heavy vines rooted in your heart and spreading until they entangle your feet to the floor. You can’t speak, afraid of the emotion that will spill out. 

Robby notices the way your shoulders tense again. Almost spring loaded and ready to burst through your skin, the rise and fall of your chest as your breath starts to quicken. He wants to reach out to you, hold your hand in his and soothe you. Wants to tell you it will be okay, the surgeon knows what they’re doing. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands next to you. Hand hovering at the middle of your back, not touching but you can still feel the heat. The ghost of his fingers as they brush against your top. 

“We’ll have you in the OR waiting room during the surgery and then when he’s awake a member of the team will take you to his room, it will be in the in-patient pediatric ward.”

Her voice is soft, a small comfort to the anxiety, and her eyes are warm. Confident. This is a routine surgery and it will be okay, but it's hard to quell the anxiety once it’s taken root. You nod again, feet finally ungluing from where they are on the floor as you step pass Robby and up to Isaac.

A soft kiss pressed to his forehead, a hand running through his hair that he scrunches his nose up at. You smile softly at him, “The doctors are gonna take you to fix your foot now bug.”

He nods, eyes barely open as he takes in your words. 

“Will you be there when I wake up?” 

Another kiss, a sacred promise against his skin.

“Of course I will.”

He looks past you now, eyes on Robby as he stands just a bit away from you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Will Michael be there?”

Robby’s heart stutters at the use of his name, not dad. But he supposed he didn’t deserve that title just yet. He takes a step forward, hand replacing yours to card from Isaac’s hair.

“If you want me there buddy.”

Isaac nods, eyes finally losing their battle with sleep and you and Robby take a step back as the nurses move in to prepare Isaac for transport up to the OR floor. You can’t speak again, heart hammering in your throat and stopping any words from forming, so Robby takes over.

“I’ll take her to the waiting room.”

A nod from the surgeon, a gentle pat on your shoulder, and then they were gone. 

Robby goes to touch you again, hand hovering at your elbow so close that you can feel it bump against you when you turn to watch the gurney leave. It sends heat through your close and into your skin, burns in a way that isn’t entirely unwelcome. Then there’s a hesitation, a few seconds where he thinks he might be better leaving it. Then a gentle touch, barely felt at all. Fingers light against your skin, like a whisper among the trees. It’s grounding. Steadying. A hand reaching out in the dark to lead you into the light. You lean into it, just a fraction.

“Come on, we should go to the waiting room.”

Robby’s voice is soft, but it still breaks through the anxiety fog in your mind. A stiff nod. Your body moves robotically as you grab your bag and book from the side of the bed, then you’re standing close to Robby again silently hoping he’ll reach out and guide you. He does. 

His hand’s a little firmer now, arm wrapping around your back gripping your arm, a small bubble of protection if you were to fall. A deep breath, a steadying heart beat, a lean into the touch, Robby's arm tightening just a fraction, and you’re ready to move. Softly, without words, he guides you through the doors and through the ED, stopping only momentarily to have a hushed conversation with Jack. 

You could have heard it, if you were listening, but the blood rushing in your ears made it hard to focus. You could just about hear the pulse of monitors, the rush of paramedics as the wheel in someone new and voices of patients as they shouted across the room. Then you’re moving again, Jack clapping Robby's back and offering you a smile as you walk away. The ride in the elevator up to the peds floor is silent, Robby’s arm is still around you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your bicep and you welcome the pressure. You have to stop yourself from leaning your head against his shoulder. Instead, decide to lean back against the cool metal of the wall behind you. There’s a small ‘thump’ as you do but there’s no pain. Just the sensation of cold pressure sinking into your scalp. It feels nice. 

Quickly, far too quickly for your liking, the doors slide open and Robby is once again leading you through winding halls and corridors. You really should take a mental note of where you’re going so you can get out of here easier once Isaac’s been discharged, but you can’t right now. Then you’re sitting down on a chair in the corner of what you assume is the waiting room. 

It’s in the far corner, with a little coffee table littered with magazines and comic books. There’s a box beside it, filled with toys and colouring books and crayons. You suppose it’s to keep the kids occupied while they wait. There's few others about, which isn’t surprising given it’s after 8pm and visiting hours are over, a few people linger. Talking to nurses and doctors in hushed tones with worried voices and faces. You can’t look at them. 

Robby disappears for a few seconds, telling you he’ll be back in a second, so you sink down into the chair. It’s nicer than the ones in the waiting room in the ER, cushioned and soft with a bit of extra room for you to lean back comfortably or to sit with your legs up. It’s not individual chairs either, but a row of three or four before it divides into a new row. Something in your mind registers that there’s enough room for someone to lie down and sleep if they need to.

Then Robby’s back, his hand brushing yours lightly as he hands you a fresh coffee and for the first time you realise you had both left the other ones downstairs. You offer a soft thanks, adjusting yourself to draw your knees up under you and turning to face Robby as he sits in the second seat down from you. Close enough that he can hear you, far enough away that he’s not intruding in your space.

Silence spreads. Thick. Heavy with unasked and unanswered questions. You can see them brewing behind his eyes, in the way he stares at the ground and scrunches his eyebrows up. In how he’s holding onto the coffee cup so tightly you’re surprised it doesn’t spill over and burn him. 

“Ask them.”

Your voice is soft as you bring the coffee to your lips. It’s hot and bitter and jolts your nerves just a little, replacing anxiety jitters with caffeine instead. He looks at you, eyes softer now but confusion and pain still lingers along the edges. Reflected back to you in the golden specs as the dim fluorescents shine on them. Robby shakes his head, looks back to the floor.

“It’s not the time.”

You snort a little, eyes rolling almost playfully, “It’s the perfect time. Surgery’s gonna be what 2 hours? Then it will take Isaac a while to wake up. Besides, I need a distraction.”

A small smile, then Robby’s leaning back and crossing one arm across his chest. Another sigh as he gathers his thoughts, you’re pretty sure you can see the gears turning in his head, hear them clunk into place. He turns to you then, arms unfolding and instead spreading against the back of the chairs. It’s open. Comfortable. Much more than you expected from him.

“Did you know when it was finalized?"

A loaded question, one that could make or break the foundations you had just started to build. But a simple answer

“No.”

He nods, “When did you find out?”

You take another sip of coffee, another deep breath and you make sure you’re maintaining eye contact. 

“About a week after I settled in Nevada”

Another nod, you can see some of the stress leak out of him at that. His shoulders softened, his grip on the coffee loosening, another deep breath. Robby didn’t think you would have kept it from him if you had known at that point, but some part of him still needed to check.

“Is that where you’ve been the whole time?”

You shake your head and push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Not the whole time, no. We lived there for a few years and then I got a promotion just before covid hit and transferred to the New York office. We lived in Greenwich until moving back here.”

He pauses then, you had only been a train ride or a 6 hour drive away. So close to him, yet so far. A breath rattles out of him, uncontained. Uncontrolled. He didn’t mean it, and he can see the way you cast your eyes down to the ground before meeting his again.

Another silence, prickly. Tension filled. A heavy weight on your chest as he asks another question. A deep breath from Robby, your eyes casting down into the coffee cup in your hands as if it held the answers to the universe. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

A pause, your heart beat picking up once again. You knew the question was coming, had anticipated it in the back of your mind but it still filled you with dread. 

“Yes.”

It’s soft, almost a whisper. Robby barely hears it and has to lean a little closer to make sure he heard it right. There’s a crack in your voice as well, the words having to fight their way up your throat. It wasn’t pain stopping them from coming, but guilt. Another deep breath, a clearing of your throat. You meet his eyes again.

“We only got back into the city a week ago, when we arrived I reached out to Dana and Jack on facebook to get your number because I didn’t have it after changing mine after the divorce. But you know what those two are like, I would either get a reply in a minute or a month and this morning they hadn’t even looked at the messages.”

Another nod from Robby, his free hand reaching up to rub at his face before he takes a sip of his coffee. It's cooled down a little, but the heat of it still melts a little part inside of him. That part that wanted to scream and shout and cast blame. But that melts away, thawing and giving space for recognition that you both fucked up but now was the chance to fix it. 

He looks to you again, the pains still there but the confusions gone. Replaced with the hope of new beginnings, that look starts to crack at the shield you had built around your heart. 

“Where do we go from here?”

Robby’s voice is soft, a whisper. A man quietly begging to be let in, and ready to show he deserves it.

A sigh from you, another glance to the coffee cup, “That depends on you and Isaac.”

You look up at him again, see his finger twitching against the edge of the seat. His eyes darting not only to your eyes but across your face, looking for little micro signs of deception. But there are none, for the first time all night you’re unguarded. Softed. Willing to let him in and work on this.

“As long as Isaac wants to see you, you can.”

Robby nods to that, “Of course.”

“But,” You take a pause, a deep breath, eyes meeting his with the sternness only a mother can have, “I need to see you trying. You need to be there and show up, and I don’t mean for every little thing that’s a lot to put on you with your schedule. But I need to see you making an effort.”

You clear your throat, ready to go to war to get peace, “If we set up times for you to meet, I expect them to be adhered to. If something comes in that is unavoidable and you need to stay, then I need to know. Clear, consistent communication. We go off our schedule, not yours. You can’t just randomly show up and expect access, not at first anyway.”

Robby nods along to your words, cataloging every detail and filing them away.

“All medical and schooling decisions are mine, I’ll ask for your input but the final decision comes from me. At least for the first few months, and then we can re-evaluate. You can be alone with him, take him out and do things with him, but I want to know when and where.” 

Another deep breath from both you and Robby, “And then for at least the first few weeks, especially as he’s healing, you come to my house and I supervise.” 

You clear your throat, words bubbling up before you can catch them, “I don’t want him getting close to you only to have you disappear on him.” 

Robby flinches back at that, just a little, it’s cold. But honest. You had known him as a man who ran away into his work, but he couldn’t do that here. It wasn’t just you he would be letting down, it would be Isaac. And you loved your son too much to let him go through that pain, and maybe some part of you didn’t want to go through it again either. 

Robby clears his throat but nods, stiff but accepting. “Okay, those are reasonable”

He shuffles forward slightly, just a little, his knee bumping into yours slightly as he does, “I’ll make sure you get a copy of every one of my schedules. If there’s no need for me to stay, or come in for overtime, and we have plans then I will stick to those plans. If something does, you’ll be the first person I call. If I’m busy, I’ll get Dana to reach out.”

He stretches his hand out to you now, open and willing. You can see the way his breath catches, how there's a slight tremor in his hands, as you reach out as well. You clasp your hand in his, the heat of it burning like a brand against your skin, and you shake.

“Then we’ll re-evaluate in a few months.”

A nod from Robby, his hand dropping from yours. Then you both take a sip from your coffee. 

After that, numbers are exchanged and schedules are discussed. Obviously with Isaac having to be in a cast for the next 6-8 weeks, and then potentially a boot, it throws your whole summer for a loop. But you let him know he usually plays baseball on the weekends, you were currently looking for a team for him to join because he loved the sport. 

Every Tuesday was taco night, and Robby could join you for the next one when Isaac was out of hospital. You tell Robby how he loves cars and motocross and F1 and how sometimes, when he had been really good or did something well in school, you would let him stay up late to watch the races. Robby tells you he’s been working on restoring an old motorcycle, and maybe Isaac can help. 

You tell him Isaac’s favourite subjects in school, science and history, and how you had once found him trying to collect frogs so he could see their life cycle in person (that made him laugh). How he loved to read, Percy Jackson was his favourite at the minute but he still wanted you to read The Golden Compass to him at bed despite having read the whole series three times that year already. 

You also let him know that while you don’t practise Judaism, you still teach him about it and its history. Every holiday season, you do a joint Christmas and Hanukkah celebration, and how Isaac loved lighting the menorah with you. You think you can see a rattle in his chest at that, despite not being there you had kept parts of him alive in your traditions with Isaac. 

On your phone, you show him videos you had taken. The one from today and the accident being the first, because Isaac had wanted him to see it. Though Robby flinches when he sees Isaac coming down, he comments on how brave he is. 

Then you go further back, baby photos and videos. First steps and first words. You don’t miss the way Robby’s eyes mist up at that, guilt stabs at your heart but you shove it down. There’s no longer any time to wonder about the what-if’s in your mind. 

In the process, Robby has gotten closer. Your legs are now over the chair, feet planted firmly in the ground, Robby is right beside you. Shoulder and tight pressing against yours, the heat searing your skin and causing you to lose focus half-way through sentences. 

Eventually, you move on to conversations about yourselves. About work and family, he asks about your parents and siblings, you tell him you're an aunty now and show him photos of nieces and nephews. You joke about bad habits of Jack and Dana that they still do to this day and you remember just how easy it was to talk to Robby. 

Then the conversation dies off, it's nearing ten pm. The waiting room is empty now, except for you and Robby. But the quiet is comforting now, wrapping around you like a blanket. The world stops for just a moment to breathe with you, to welcome in this new beginning. 

Your name is called, Robby’s called almost immediately after it and you make a mental note to update Isaac’s medical and school records to have Robby on as a parent. 

When you meet the surgeon near the front, they smile at you, and all the anxiety you had felt before burns from your veins. The vines that had constricted your heart down in the ER, burst and melt to the floor leaving relief in its wake. 

“Surgery went really well.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, chest falling as the weight of worry drops from your shoulders. From the corner of your eye, you can see how Robby’s shoulders soften as he takes a deep breath in.

“There are a few things you’ll need to know once he’s discharged, but that can be spoken about in the morning. We’re gonna keep him overnight for observation and to make sure there’s no complications from the sedation, but you should be good to go tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod your head, offering a small ‘thank you’ and shaking the surgeon's hand. Then they’re telling you what room he’s in before disappearing again. Robby’s hand reaches out to you, a slight tremble in his fingers as does, it wraps around your back and pulls you in close to his chest and you let him. Then finally, you fall apart. 

The tears you had been holding back since the accident finally fall. Hard. Heavy. Ugly. Sobs you can’t choke down claw their way out of your throat, echo around the empty room so loud it almost feels like you’re drowning in the sound. There’s a heart beat echoing in your ears, you can’t tell if it's yours or the ghost of the monitor Isaac was on earlier in the day. 

There’s a hand, Robby’s, rubbing soft circles into your back. Gently at first, then harder. The pressure working out the knots that had formed over the hours in the ER, while also bringing comfort. You hear a whisper, barely, but you can’t make out what’s actually being said. Then it’s slightly louder, the familiar deep timber breaking through the echo of tears and heartbeats.

“It’s okay, he’s okay.”

It’s shaky. Soft. A band aid being placed over a wound to stop the bleeding. Someone who is trying to convince themselves as much as they’re trying to convince you. 

A deep breath, though you’re not sure if it's you or Robby that takes it - maybe it was both. Chests rattling together, heart rates slowing down and beating in sync. You stay in Robby’s arm for another minute, letting the tears dry up until all that’s left is lines of salt and red rimmed eyes. Then you step back, hands swiping at your face to try and clear the evidence before going to see Isaac.

Robby doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have too. He had seen it before, parents at their strongest when their kids were around and at their weakest when they found out they were okay. He understood. 

You offer him a ‘thank you’, a whisper beneath your breath and he simply nods and says “Of course.”

Then his hand is reaching out for yours again, tentative. Asking permission. You give it, reaching out and taking it in your own. He gives a small, reassuring squeeze, and then he’s leading you through winding corridors again until you reach Isaac’s room. 

The lights are dim and the moon is now high up in the sky, sending twinkling shards of silver through the blinds. A halo of light dancing around the bed where Isaac now lay. His leg was now in a half-cast, still elevated above the bed. His eyes were open, just barely, blinking languidly as he rubs at them and tries to fight off sleep again. Beside the bed, are two arm chairs and on the other is a travel cot. 

You rush to his side, dropping Robby’s hand and taking Isaac’s instead. 

“Hi bug”

A quick kiss pressed to his forehead, your other hand carding through his hair as he offers a sleepy smile. 

“Hi mamma”

Tears prick your eyes, it had been a few years since he had called you mamma and it tugged at all the right heart strings. His eyes move from you, to Robby who stood at the bottom of the bed and was currently reading through the chart. 

“Hi Michael.”

The soft sound of Isaac’s voice pulls Robby away from the chart, he slots it back into place at the end of the bed and smiles gently at Isaac as he takes steps to stand beside you.

“Hey buddy, how you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

You tilt your head at Isaac’s words as Robby lets a small chuckle pass through his lips, your hand releases Isaac’s and Robby’s takes its place. It was a relief to you both to know he’s not feeling any pain. 

Another kiss to Isaac forehead, a soft look and a gentle smile, “You can go to sleep bug”

A soft nod, Isaac’s eyelashes fluttering against his cheek like the flitting of a butterfly wing as it lands on a flower, “Will you both be here when I wake up?”

You glance to Robby, an eyebrow raised in a tentative question, then there's a small nod from Robby as he gives Isaac’s hand a small squeeze.

“Yeah buddy, we’ll be there.”

Another small nod from Isaac. 

“‘Kay, love you mamma. Goodnight Michael”

Then he was asleep. Eyes fluttering closed as his chest rises and falls, the steady beep of his heart on the monitor an echo of safety and reminder that he’s okay. You take a step back, eyes still on Isaac. On the way his chest rises and falls, the little twitch of his eye and fingers as he sleeps. His eyebrow scrunching up just a little as he drifts into dreamland.

“You should sleep.”

Robby’s voice pulls you back to him, eyes glancing over to find him already looking at you with arms crossed softly over his chest. His eyes are warm and soft, but alert. Years of staying late at work and countless hours of overtime making him more immune to the effects of fatigue. 

You are starting to falter, exhaustion settling into your bones and you blink slowly. Almost cat-like. Eyelids feeling like concrete, making every blink harder and harder. The adrenaline that had fueled your body and kept you awake for the last few hours, finally crashed around you and even lifting your arm to brush at stray hairs was a feat.

“Do you not have to go back down stairs in the morning?”

Your voice is soft, a whisper so as to not wake Isaac. Robby shakes his head, looks to the ground for a second, then back to you.

“Jack’s gonna stay”

Then you remember the whispered conversation, the hushed voices and words you couldn’t quite hear before coming up to the pediatric floor. A promise kept planting a seed of hope in the deep recesses of your ribs. For the first time, since before you got married, Robby was keeping his promise and he was staying. The ghost had become a man once more. 

You nod your head softly, “Wake me in a few hours so you can get some sleep too.” 

Robby nods, but doesn’t promise anything, and as soon as your head hits the pillow of the travel cot you drift off. 

When you wake up, there's a soft morning glow filtering through the window. Pillars of golden light illuminate the room, streak it in a kaleidoscope of colours and warmth that radiates against your back. You can hear the hum of machines, the beeping of a heart monitor. There’s soft, whispered voices that filter in. Soft giggles and warm chuckles fill your ear, warms your soul like melts away fear. You hear the click of the wheels from a toy car as it glides against the guard rails of the bed, the sound of a child imitating a motor as they babble on about the type of car and the details of an F1 race it had been featured in. 

You can smell fresh coffee, bitter and invigorating in the early hours, and the slight stinging scent of antiseptic and hand sanitizer. You scrunch your nose up at the scent, flutter your eye lashes as the soft light filters through your blurry morning gaze. After a few seconds shapes start to form.

The metal siding of the bed. The slope and curve of the bed as the top that’s now propped up. The dark unruly mop of hair belonging to Isaac, he’s facing away from you but his shoulders are relaxed and you can see his shoulders shake with giddiness. You can see his arms moving, one dragging one of his toy ferraris over the bed rail, the other is gesturing close to his chest as he excitedly explains something to Robby. 

You can’t see him fully, just the shape of his legs from the other side of the bed and his hands. You can only assume he’s sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. You take a few moments to come back into your body, feel the scratchyness of your jeans and the stiffness of your joints. The tangled metal of an old chain resting against your chest, the pendant pressing into your cheek from where it moved in your sleep. Then you rise. 

Careful. Slow. Quiet so as to not disturb the moment.  Sitting up in the bed, your legs crossed, you can fully take in the scene before you. As you expected, Robby is sitting leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. There’s a wide, unrestrained smile on his face. His teeth reflecting the soft golden glow of the sun. His shoulders are loose and there’s a calm certainty in the air around him you hadn’t seen the night before. A man ready to accept all the responsibilities that came with becoming a parent. 

There’s a hitch in your breath, a rattling of your lungs and your heart and the little seed of hope that it planted itself beneath your ribs starts to bloom just a little. You smile at the scene, soft. Warm. Some broken part of you knitting itself back together in your soul. 

You watch for a few minutes, Robby completely enraptured as Isaac details the latest F1 race you had let him watch. He nods along as Isaac talks, and laughs along with son when he lets out a giggle, you can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s talking about (but then again you don’t really understand the racing talk either) but he’s still there. Engaged. Present. 

Robby notices you’re awake before Isaac does, the sun glinting off your necklace as you adjust it back into place and reflecting right into his eyes. He zeros in on it almost immediately. It’s a simple chain, a little weathered but still in good condition, and the pendant is a sun with your birthstone sitting in the dead center. It catches him off guard and he has to double check that he’s actually seeing it right. 

It was a necklace he had gotten you, on your second anniversary. When you were together, you rarely took it off and even planned other jewellery and outfits around it. An unknown feeling takes hold of his heart then, a gentle squeeze, not paralysing or damaging but just…there. It doesn’t know what it is, but it feels oddly similar to how he felt when he saw you walking down the aisle. 

“Look buddy, moms awake.”

Isaac’s head whips round so hard you flinch slightly in fear he hurt himself, but he’s smiling. Eyes full of nothing but the type of joy that only children can embody. 

“Mom!”

You laugh lightly at his excitement, the happiness infectious and spreading through your body.

“Good morning bug, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay! My leg was sore but the nice nurse came in and gave me some medicine to make me feel better.”

“That’s good baby.”

You stretch your arms over your head, shoulders and elbows popping as you do and you can feel all your vertebra realign. You look to Robby now, smiling softly at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought I told you to wake me?”

He chuckles slightly, head shaking as he looks to the ground and then back to you.

“You never specified how many hours and I didn’t promise anything”

There’s a roll of your eyes, a huff from your lips as your arms fall back down and you cross them over your chest. Almost childlike and playful.

“That’s not fair, you need to sleep as well.”

Robby laughs now, head thrown back slightly. It makes you feel fuzzy. Warm. The deep timbre of it slipping down your spine like honey, saccharine sweet and delicious. You try and shake the feeling, but it lingers in your spine. 

“I’m fine, it’s not my first time being up 24 hours or longer.”

Another roll of your eyes, a finger pointed towards Robby almost accusingly. 

“Still, you should have woken me up. What time is it anyway?”

You see Isaac look to the clock hanging on the wall opposite the bed, eyes squinting slightly as he goes to read it. You and Robby give him the time and space to do so.

“Six…fourty five”

You glance to clock yourself and smile at Isaac, he had been struggling with reading the clock at his old school and pride swells inside of you. 

“Well done bug.”

Isaac beams at you, prideful and happy that he had gotten it right. You can see how Robby’s smile transforms, pride at the tips and the curve of his lips. 

Then there’s a knock at the door, and you look at it quizzically as does Robby. Both of you recognise it’s too early for the doctor to come and discuss the healing and discharge process.

“Come in”

Your voice is soft, but still loud enough that it can be heard through the wooden door. As it opens, a smile breaks out onto your face as Dana takes a step in. You had seen her the day before in the ER, but hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her. She smiles back at you, eyes warm and welcoming and her arms immediately open as you step up from the bed. When you wrap your arms around her shoulders, she pulls you tight against her chest and squeezes your shoulders gently. 

“Hey kid, you look good.” 

Her voice is low, a whisper right against your ear. But the tone is warm, a lacing of I missed you hidden among the words. You had missed her too. You often joked that she was your favourite in the friend circle, much to Jack and Robby playful resentment. But it was only half-way true. She was your favourite and while you didn’t keep in touch after the divorce, you still kept an eye on her social media and sent her a message every birthday and holiday, even sending gifts for major celebrations. 

“Thanks, you too.”

When you pull back she’s still smiling at you, one hand squeezing your shoulders again and smiles at Isaac on the bed. Robby reaches his own hand up and squeezes back, a sign he’s okay, before dropping it back down.

“Who’s this mom?”

There’s a brief look of confusion on Isaac’s face, you had just embraced a stranger to him after all, but it quickly changes to a look of interest. Dana was also obviously important to you.

“This is Dana, she’s an old friend of mine and your dads.” 

You both move towards the bed, you pushing the cot to the side so you can stand instead while Dana stands beside Robby. She places a hand on his shoulder, gives a gentle squeeze.

“Hi Dana, are you a nurse?”

“I am little man. I’m the one in charge of everything downstairs.”

Isaac’s eyebrows scrunch up a little, confusion taking over his face, “But I thought Michael was in charge?”

You all laugh at the question.

“He just likes to pretend he is.”

You chuckle again at Dana’s voice, eyes darting between Robby and Dana with a look of mischief in your eyes.

“Dana really runs the show and everyone likes her better anyway.”

Dana laughs at that, as does Isaac, and Robby gives a look of faux offense as he pressed his hand into his heart.

“You wound me.”

Then there's laughing again, Isaac joining and as he realises you were just teasing. You meet Robby’s eyes and he glares lightly, but there’s no malice there. Just a quiet friendliness and joy you didn’t realise you had missed. You smile softly and quickly look away to Dana, taking a steadying breath as you do. 

“I just wanted to come see if you guys need anything before I start my shift.”

You eye the bedside cabinet briefly, noticing an empty cup of coffee, before looking back to Dana.

“Some coffee and a soda for Isaac would be great.”

You immediately notice how Isaac perks up, soda was always a treat for him.

“I can have a soda?”

You nod softly, “Once we talk to the doctor again you can have it.”

He looks to Robby now, who nods in agreement with your decision. He beams, smile wide and almost blinding. Excitement bubbles through him, to the point that he’s almost vibrating and you roll your eyes lightly at the energy while Robby chuckles. 

“Coffee and a soda, got it.”

Dana steps away from Robby, and you move with her, pulling her into another hug before she leaves.

“Thank you for checking in.”

Another squeeze of your shoulder before Dana pulls away, and another whisper. 

“It takes a village kid, just know you always got one here.”

Then she’s gone. The sound of clicking hospital bed wheels and the shuffle of feet, voices muffled behind doors and hushed conversations with doctors filter in briefly as the door opens. When it closes, there's silence again. Warm and light with the rays of the sun. The arms of the universe wrapping you in a protective cocoon, if just for a moment. Your eyes meet Robby's again, just for a brief moment, but it’s all you need. 

They’re steady, reassuring. Full of light and love and emotions you would rather not name right now. But they’re there. He stayed and that was all you needed in that moment. 

A few minutes later, a younger nurse that Robby introduces to you as Mataeo arrives with the coffee and soda, letting you know that Dana got called in with a patient as soon as she arrived on the ER floor. You both thank him, and Isaac smiles wide at him as Mataeo tells him his cars are cool and then he’s gone again.

The smell of fresh coffee as the steam rises from the cups finally cuts through the smell of antiseptic and sterility that came with hospital rooms and the heat spreads from your hands and up your arms, settling into your chest. You take a seat next to Robby, smiling softly as Isaac starts asking him about his job. 

He explains it in child friendly terms and you can see Isaac’s eyes light up. He was a lover of science and asked so many questions that you giggled lightly at the overwhelmed look that over takes Robby. You choke a little on your coffee when you go to take a sip of it only for Isaac to turn round and ask, “have you seen a dead body?”

The question was out of left-field and was asked with such sweetness and innocent curiosity that it catches you both off guard. Robby goes to answer, but then the door opens and the surgeon walks into the room with a smile on their face. 

You’re still choking when they walk in, hand hitting your chest a little to dry and dislodge the feeling and they give you a look of concern. As does Robby as he reaches over and gives a small hit to your back. Finally, it clears and the only evidence is the watering of your tear line. 

“I’m okay.”

You smile now, fully turning to greet the surgeon now. Their face changes again, a ghost of a smile tugging at the sides of their lips as they stand at the bottom of the bed. Pleasantries are explained, Isaac’s asked how he’s feeling and the surgeon listens closely and the ghost of a smile turns into a full smile when he lets them know that he’s doing good. 

Quickly, the conversation changes to discharge and healing and the surgeon explains that they usually like to monitor for 24-48 hours to make sure swellings going down properly but Isaac’s swelling was reducing pretty quickly and if the pattern continues you would be out by the afternoon. 

As the surgeon talks, you flit your eyes between them and Isaac, who’s busied himself with the toys on the bed again. Robby has reached a hand out over the back of your chair as he leans back, eyes kept on them while his fingers gently trailed against your shoulder. It’s not a deliberate movement, more an unconscious one. You lean further back into the chair, allowing his fingers to fully settle against your shoulder. 

They explain that the half-cast will be on for 4-8 weeks, depending on how well it healed and they would want you back in at the 4 week mark for more x-rays. Then would come the boot, which would be on for another few weeks. Your heart sank a little at hearing that at least it would be 6 weeks before Isaac could be fully weight bearing again, at most 10. Nevermind that he couldn’t do sports for 3-6 after the boot came off. 

But a gentle squeeze on your shoulder from Robby grounds you and stops you spiraling, you were just going to have to come up with creative ways to keep Isaac entertained over summer. As the surgeon asks if you have any questions, Isaac who didn’t seem like he was paying attention pipes up, voice slightly saddened and gaze downcast at the cars in his laps. Somewhere along the way he had stopped playing with them. 

“Can I have a soda?”

The surgeon chuckles lightly, smiling at him with gentle eyes, “Yes sweetheart, you can have a soda?”

His eyes light up again, a small smile stretching across his lips as Robby opens and hands him the can of the soda. You roll your eyes affectionately as he lets out a small hum of satisfaction and a giggle at the carbonation as he takes a drink, turning back to the surgeon with a smile and a ‘thank you’ before they leave again. 

A deep breath,another steady squeeze from Robby, your heart leaping into your throat as tears dot your water line. A single second of weakness. Then you're blinking the tears away, clearing your throat and taking another sip of coffee before turning to Isaac with a smile. 

There’s a small, content smile on his face. Though his eyes reflect sadness and you can see tears in the corner, he doesn’t let them fall. You know he doesn’t want you to worry, so you lean forward and reach out to take his hand. Threading your fingers through his and rubbing soft circles into the skin with your thumb.

“It’s okay to be sad bug, you’re allowed to cry.”

A stiff nod from Isaac, his nose scrunching up as he sniffles and tries to stop the tears from falling. He rubs at his eyes with his free hand to try and dry the tears, but more form, and finally after a few minutes the fall. His hand tightens in yours, squeezing gently. 

You hear Robby’s breath hitch beside you, can feel his hoodie brush against your arms as he leans forward again and his hand reaches out to lay gently against Isaac’s arm. He gives a soft squeeze, fingers gently wrapping around the crook of his elbow and thumb resting against the bone where he also rubs soft circles into the skin. Isaac doesn’t pull away, instead he lets his arm fall heavy into the touch. 

You don’t talk for a few minutes, you just hold Isaac in your hands. Letting him cry and process and grieve his first summer in a new city.  The tears continue to fall, streaking salt rivers down Isaac’s cheek, the sniffles and soft sobs he lets out tugs at your heart and cracks it right down the middle. Slowly, the tears stop but the sniffling remains as snot falls from Isaac’s nose. 

You let go of his hand, stand and grab a tissue before rubbing gently at his cupid's bow and nose to clean it away. You cup his cheeks gently, placing a kiss against Isaac’s forehead as you rub gently under his eyes to clear the streaks that had been left behind. Isaac shakes gently, and his head falls against your shoulder as you hug him gently. 

You can feel Robby’s hand pressing into your ribs as you lean over, just barely, a moment of realisation striking through you like a lightning bolt under your skin. The room now holds three heart beats, learning and working together, another hand has joined your own and is learning the shape of fatherhood one soft circle after another.  Another kiss against the side of Isaac’s head and he pulls away softly. 

There’s a small smile on his face, soft. Reassuring. Sadness lingers in the edges of his eyes, but it's not as prominent now. Instead, there’s lingering hope and determination and you smile back at him. 

“Okay, let’s make a plan and see what things we can still do this summer.”

You sit back beside Robby, who’s already pulled his phone out and is scrolling through a list of places and activities on his phone. You can see the same look of determination in the golden specks of his irises as the sun hits them just right, it pierces through your ribs. Feeds the small bloom of hope that lives there, causes it to expand even further. A seed fully turning into a sprout, but not yet a blooming flower. You pull a notebook out of your bag, ready to write down ideas and potential dates. 

The next few hours are spent planning, interspersed with visits from nurses offering kind smiles and warm eyes. Taking vitals and monitoring swelling, bringing both breakfast and lunch for Isaac which was devoured in seconds, you even get another visit from Dana. It’s only for a few minutes, but she brought fresh coffee and sandwiches for you and Robby and even offers a few ideas for what to do as well, mentioning that there’s a motocross event happening only 30 minutes from the city. Isaac’s eyes absolutely lit up with that, he was practically vibrating with excitement again as he begged you to go. You wrote it down and promised to look into it. 

By the time the surgeon came in again, the sun was now sitting high in the sky and lit the room up in its warmth and golden light, and you had multiple pages of ideas and things to do. From museum trips and science events held at Carnegie Science Center to a trip to the national avery or aquarium, to art events being held at local comic books stores, to motocross events and races, and to baseball games (minor and major). 

By the end, there’s a wide smile on Isaac’s face as well as yours and Robby’s. Isaac requests to see the book and a pen and you let out a small chuckle as he reads over the pages and puts stars next to his favourite ones before handing it back with a proud smile on his face. To no one’s surprise, he starred the motocross and science events. 

At that moment, the room began to feel less like a hospital and more like a sanctuary where a family builds itself brick by brick, pen put to paper and a future you never imagined suddenly coming to life and as Robby looks at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in a long time, you can map the future in his eyes. 

The last step was just to book everything, but your phone was dead and you were without a charger. Robby had offered you his phone, but just as you went to decline the door opened again and the surgeon and a nurse walks in with a wheelchair. The wheels click gently as they move across the linoleum floor and there’s a squeak of brakes as the surgeon places it at the bottom of the bed. 

There’s a warm smile on their face, and a clipboard in their hands. You catch a glimpse of a title saying ‘discharge’ as they pull it close to your chest, and then there’s a breath of relief that rattles its way out of your chest. 

“Good news, the swelling has gone down much faster than anticipated and we are happy to let Isaac go home.”

There’s smiles all around and sighs of relief, weights dropping from chests and shoulders and melting into the ground. Robby’s hand reaches out, sits gently against your shoulder blade, thumb moving just ever so slightly against the fabric of your shirt. You lean back into the touch slightly, an unconscious movement. 

“Thank you doctor” 

Your voice is soft, relief dripping off every word. You look to Isaac again, whose hands are now fiddling with the edge of the gown, fingers dipping under the hem slightly to scratch at his skin. There’s a smile on his face and relief in his eyes, the little starbursts shining like a galaxy in the sun as he thinks about getting home. 

“If you two want to follow me to get the discharge paperwork signed, the nurses can help get Isaac changed and all ready to go”

You give a smile, a nod, and gather your things into your bag. Robby stands with you, and you both give Isaac’s hand a quick squeeze, before you walk out of the room. Once again, you’re led down winding corridors and passed rooms, but this time you take in the painted animals and flowers on the walls. The colours shifting in a recognisable pattern of something comforting to children, there’s little decompression and play rooms for patients staying longer. There’s a rush of hushed conversations behind doors, of laughter and lightness as families try and find the good in a bad situation. 

The waiting room is busier now than it was last night. It’s not as scary, not as clinical. There’s families sitting around and children playing with the toys. Nurses and doctors bustle about, tablets and clipboards in hand, there’s kind smiles on their faces as you pass them. As you step up to the desk, Robby presses in close beside you. His arm is wrapped protectively around your shoulders, part of his chest pressing in against your back as he moves you gently out of the way of a bustling nurse going by with a medical cart. 

The surgeon hands the discharge paperwork to you, explains every detail as you fill it in and reminds you of the expected healing time as well as things you can do to make it a little easier. If there’s some residual pain, some tylenol of ibuprofen every four hours should help, if there itchiness (as there usually is in a cast) use a low setting on a hair dryer and do not, under any circumstance, stick anything into the half-cast to ease the itch. Take the first few days easy and come back if there’s any issues. 

You hand over the paperwork, smiling and thanking her once again. Then there’s a click of wheels, the screech of worn tires against linoleum, and Isaac is beside you again with two nurses. One pushing the chair, the other with a pair of crutches. They explain the crutches can be used at home, but they would recommend getting in contact with a wheelchair rental service for venturing outside. You offer them a kind smile, hand reaching out to shake theirs and give thanks. 

Then you turn to Isaac again, smile softening. Almost reverent as you scan his body, hand reaching out to his which he happily takes. 

“Ready to go home bug?”

A hearty nod and a chuckle from you and Robby, who leans in close to your ear.

“You need a ride?”

You glance him from the side, completely forgetting you had arrived in an ambulance and your phone was dead so you couldn’t order an uber. There’s a deep breath from you, and from Robby. You can feel his chest expand against your back, the press of his ribs into your skin.

“If you don’t mind.” 

Soft. Hesitant. You had been doing this alone for so long, that help seemed foreign even if it wasn’t unwelcome. 

Robby shakes his head, lips turning up in a soft smile. He wasn’t going to verbalise it, but he didn’t want this to end. Because, finally, after so many years apart he had you again. Like there was some part of his soul that had left with you and was just now finally slotting back into place. Where he was previously lost and alone, wandering the desert under a starless sky there’s now a guiding light showing him the way to the one thing he didn’t know he needed. Family.

“Of course not, I just gotta stop by The Pitt first and grab my things.”

You nod, smile at the nurses as you take over behind the wheelchair while Robby takes the crutches and then step out of the waiting room. Glass doors slide closed behind you, quietly as you take one step after another into a shared future. Sunlight streams in through wide windows, a golden warmth blanketing you. Isaac’s voice is soft, some tiredness seeping into the edges as he talks about how excited he is to go home. 

Unnamed hope fills you, flows through your blood like liquid honey. You had stepped into the hospital, a single parent, and now you were stepping out a family. The man beside you transformed from a ghost to flesh and bone, a beating heart and a warm touch, you could only hope he stayed that way. 

And Robby, he’s warm beside you, arms brushing against you as you walk. He talks, voice warm and deep, a gentle cadence you remember in the very fibre of your being. There’s a gentleness to him now, eyes crinkled around the edges and laugh lines visible as he smiles. 

His eyes very rarely leave you, muscle memory kicking in and carrying him through the hospital. Emotions you can’t, or refuse, to name dancing on the surface. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to at that moment, but he’s changed. There’s something deeply soul shattering in his gaze, the quiet kind of reverence you had experienced all those years ago when you first fell in love. A quiet promise of forever that he intends to keep.

And to your surprise, he does.

___

It's late Tuesday evening, three days after you left the hospital, the sun is just starting to dip in the sky. Golden rays of light transform into something ethereal as they’re replaced by stretches of coral and lavender, streaks of deep indigos and violets poking through as it dips lower and lower. It's a clear night, the moon already fully visible and keeping watch over your home with the gaze of a lover and protector. A keeper of secrets and harbinger of new beginnings. 

There’s still a lingering heat in the air, still a humidity that seeps into your bones but it’s not as heavy. It’s languid, slow. Forces you to move with intention, not just instinct. But the falling sun had brought with it a cool breeze, one that blows through the open windows and ruffles the curtains. Makes the house feel alive, the thrum of a heartbeat under skin. The air conditioning also helps, keeps the sweat from dripping down your neck and avoids the sticky sensation that comes with such high humidity.

Especially as you flit about the kitchen, pulling plates and cups out of cupboards. Setting up side dishes of guac and salsa and sour cream, all placed on a lazy susan in the center of the table. Tortillas are warming on the grill, the barbacoa bubbles away idly in the slow cooker, and Isaac sits at the table. Switch in hand, mind distracted momentarily from the heavy weight of his casted leg that rests gently on a chair in front of him. 

Though you can tell he’s getting impatient, the little grunts of frustration you sometimes hear become more noticeable. The shaking of his un-injured leg, picking up speed and making the dining chair shake and rattle against both the table and the ground. You had told him Robby was running a little late, a bad accident coming into the ERjust minutes before he was supposed to leave. Isaac said he understood, but he couldn’t help the impatience as the clock ticked over to 8:15pm. 

Then, as you’re placing the tortillas on the table, there’s a knock at the door. Three in quick succession, barely heard over the soft music you have playing. They’re tentative, almost nervous. Isaac immediately perks up, switch dropped to the table as he reaches for his crutches, a wide smile spreading on his face. 

“I’ll get it!”

The excitement in his voice kills any protest you had building, hands settling onto the edge of the table with a quiet sigh. You know he hated being cooped up like this, he was an active kid and liked to be on the move and the resting period was always going to be the hardest. You still worried, of course you did, but you recognised his needs for independence and his need to be involved in this. So, you let him go. Following just a few steps behind in case he stumbled, especially as there were still boxes lining the hallway because you didn’t have the time to fully unpack everything just yet. 

He struggles to unlatch the door, so you reach out and do it for him, taking a step back when he opens it to Robby. There’s a sheepish look on Robby's face, his hand gripping tightly on to his back pack while the other rubs nervously at his neck. You can see the apology already loaded on his tongue, his mouth opens but immediately closes as Isaac all but tackles him into a hug. 

“Michael!” 

An ‘oof’ leaves Robby and a chuckle passes your lips, Isaac’s arms are wrapped tight around his body as he balances on one leg. Both crutches are now dangling in the air and hitting Robby in the shins, but he doesn’t mind. 

A smile splits across Robby’s face half a second later, the shock of the impact and affection quickly passing as he wraps his free hand around Isaac. His hand landing on his head where he ruffles his hair affectionately. 

“Hey buddy”

Robby's voice is soft, weary. Carrying the kind of tiredness only those in the medical profession understood, the weight of a long shift, a bad shift, sitting heavy in their bones and on their chest. It’s in his eyes too, the dark circles forming under them and the sadness that permeates even through the joy of seeing his son. But he still smiles, still looks up at you as you lean against one of the clear walls of the small hallway with a warm smile on your face.

The silver light of the moon shines down on you through the door, halos you in its glow and with the warm light of a home behind you Robby freezes for a second. His mind buffers, his breathing hitches and he can think of a thousand ways to describe you and yet they simply wouldn’t be enough. These were the moments he missed the most, he thinks. The quiet, messy ones where there’s a stain on your shirt from the dinner, hair messy and untamed as it came undone throughout the day. The golden glow of your skin even after a day's work and cooking. 

“Hi.”

Robby’s voice is somehow even softer now, a whisper that’s almost lost in the wind. You duck your head a second, suddenly shy under his gaze. You had forgotten just how intense it could be. How it had made you feel like a teenager discovering romance when you meet for the first time. And here he was, looking at you like it was the first time all over again. Your cheeks heat, the rush of blood an involuntary thing, but you look up again. Smile softly at him, motion your head to the side a little and chuckle.

“Hi, are you gonna come in?”

Isaac lets Robby go, wobbling a little as he does but Robby steadies him as he gets his crutches on the ground. You can both see Isaac’s hand open and close before he places it on the handle, like he wants to reach out and grab Robby’s hand but he can’t because of the crutches. You look at Robby, see the gears turning in his head before he swoops his free hand down under Isaac and lifts him into his arms, being careful not to jostle the injured leg in the process. 

There’s a look of shock on Isaac's face as he’s momentarily displaced then a laugh bubbles out of him as he throws his head back in joy. Your hand had flown to your chest, placed gently over your now hammering heart as visions of either of them being hurt flooded your mind, but now it drops. There’s a deep breath, a sigh, a playful glare towards Robby who just gives a cheeky grin and a wink back.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack Robinavitch”

You push yourself off the wall, finger pointing accusingly at Robby who joins Isaac in his laughter. You affectionately roll your eyes and turn away from the two, leading the way to the kitchen. 

Robby follows, hand a little looser around the strap of his back pack as he kicks the front door closed behind him. Steps a little lighter than when he had walked up your path. Eyes brighter, more alive. The cinderblock that had lodged itself in his chest only a few days earlier cracks again, crumbles around the edges as dust falls through his bones and into the floor. It’s still there, just a little smaller now. A little more delicate, one powerful hit and it would be gone.

Robby, very gently, sets Isaac down by the table and helps him into the chair making sure to take extra care when placing the injured leg opposite him. His bag is placed under the table, close enough so he can grab it but far enough that neither you or he would trip over the straps. He moves to help you get everything ready, muscle memory from a time before and a desire to simply exist in your orbit leading the way, but Isaac grabs his hand and smiles up at him.

“Do you wanna see my minecraft village?”

Robby’s eyes soften, the crows feet at the side dissipating as he smiles gently at Isaac. He had no idea what minecraft was, he had heard a few of the kids in the ER and Harrison talk about it but he still didn’t know what it was. He had filled it away with things like Fortnight and Roblox and slang terms he didn’t understand, something he didn’t need to know or care about unless a patient was talking to him about it. But, now he cares.

“Yeah buddy.”

You watch the two from the counter, head tilted to the side and eyes cautious yet tender. You didn’t know what to expect letting Robby back into your life and into Isaac’s, there was a cautious optimism that lived deep in your bones. Buried under layers and layers of doubt and fear. Fear he would disappoint. Fear he wouldn’t show up. Fear he would disappear again. It was a dark shroud hanging over your shoulders, and yet, as you watch Isaac ramble on excitedly about minecraft and Robby (though looking very confused) smile and follow along with enthusiasm the golden light of hope and that cautious optimism started to shine through. 

For the first time, you think things might just work out. 

“Okay, time to put it away.”

Isaac pouts, his free foot almost stomping on the ground like a disgruntled rabbit, and he turns to you with pleading eyes. “But mommmm,” He drags it out in childish impatience, looking at you with puppy dog eyes that he knows never really works, “I was just gonna show Michael my farm.”

Robby chuckles beside him, eyes darting up to yours for a moment to see how you handle this. He had a lot to learn after all, and your word was law. A deep sigh and you push yourself off the counter, to instead lean down on the table with crossed arms so you could look Isaac in the eyes.

“You know the rules, no devices at dinner. But…”

A glimmer of hope and Isaac’s pout starts to dissolve.

“I can give you 30 extra minutes of play time before bed, you can use it to show Michael your farm or anything else. How does that sound?”

A wide smile breaks onto Isaac’s face and he quickly saves his game before handing the switch over to you. You offer him a wink as you take it and stand up again. When you look to Robby, there's a shadow of devotion one you had seen years before under a half moon arch of peonies and dahlias. Your heart stutters, breath catching in your throat and you have to clear it to regain a semblance of composure. Your heart betraying your brain as it remembers what being loved by him was like. 

A warm, familiar blanket settles over you. Threadbare and torn at the edges, but still comfortable. The kind of blanket you reach for on a stormy night as lightning flashes outside and rain batters the windows, promising shelter and safety. An unspoken vow of forever weaved into the fabric. 

You mentally throw it off your shoulders. 

Of course, Robby notices the shift. The way your shoulders tense for half a second, the sharp inhale of breath as you turn away from them and the subtle shake of your head as if you’re trying to clear away something unpleasant. The walls you had built around you heart coming up once again. He sighs softly, eyes going back to Isaac who’s now talking about the cool new science book you had gotten him that talks about animal biology. It hurts, your reaction, a knife blade slipping right between his rips and poking at the soft flesh of his heart. 

The only reason it doesn’t pierce it and devastate him is because he knows it’s warranted, he had hurt you and now he had to deal with those consequences. He knew forgiveness, and even true acceptance of him being back in your life, would take time. 

Dinner passes by uneventfully, but it’s filled with laughter and smiles as Isaac tells stories and asks Robby questions about himself and his work. Robby’s favourite colour turns into a story about the reflection of the sunset in the water as he walks through the park one summer evening. What he doesn’t tell Isaac is that it was also the colour of your dress on your first date and the night he proposed. When you hear it, you can’t help but look down at your plate and take a deep breath to steady your rapidly beating heart. You didn’t think he would remember that, didn’t think it would still be his favourite colour all these years later.

It’s destabilizing, rattling you from the inside and though you try to keep yourself and walls stable, little micro fractures start to appear. Unnoticeable, little webs of golden light leaking through the walls like the starbursts in Robby's and Isaac’s eyes. You excuse yourself from the table, lifting empty plates and glasses and placing them in the sink. If you stayed any longer, you were sure to fracture completely. 

As you work on cleaning the dishes, you keep an ear out on the conversation. Smiling softly to yourself as stories are swapped and laughter fills the now quiet evening air. You had turned the music off before dinner, and the streets were almost silent. Only a few cars passed by as time ticked over, if you strained you could hear the sound of wildlife and a soft wind rustling trees. The clatter of trash bins opening and closing, soft footsteps as people did late night walks. It wasn’t silent, but it was peaceful. A sacred kind of feeling that felt like the world leaning in and breathing for the first time in centuries. 

As you place the last cup on the drying rack, the slow cooker a problem for tomorrow, you glance towards the clock on the microwave where it reads 22:00. You turn around, arms crossed over your chest. Robby and Isaac are huddled close now, conspiratorial smiles on their faces as they whisper amongst themselves. You wish you could put the moment in a bottle and keep it forever. 

 But unfortunately, it's past bed time. 

“Isaac,” your voice is quiet, a kind of gentle that only comes from a mother looking at their greatest love. It absolutely wrecks Robby internally, sends his mind and heart into a tailspin as it thuds against his chest. It was a tone he had never heard before, it made him think of all the things he missed and all the things he had yet to learn and relearn about you. The possibility of it all excited him, made his pulse skitter under his skin as he took a calm, steadying breath. 

“Yeah mom?”

Isaac looks up with tired eyes, something you were sure he wouldn’t admit to, but he blinks slowly and has to maintain concentration to open them fully again. You smile soft, love written into every line on your forehead and crinkle beside your eyes. Robby has to take another deep breath as his heart skips a beat.

“It’s time for bed bug,”

Another pout, a but loading on his tongue that's quickly dispelled with a shake of your head.

“It’s 10 o’clock bug, you’ve had more time than we agreed."

He looks to Robby as if he could save him, he wants to spend more time with him after all, but Robby just shakes his own head.

“You heard your mom, buddy, it’s time for bed.”

His pout deepens, but when he reaches up to rub the sleep out of his eyes you know he isn’t going to argue. 

“Can Michael stay?”

A sharp breath, a shared look between you and Robby, a question you weren’t prepared for. Your chest rattles, eyes scanning over Robby’s features. He had brightened up over the near two hours he had been in your home, but you can still see the lingering tiredness. The stiffness in his shoulders as he struggles to hold himself up, the dark circles under his eyes and the slow blinking that is so much like Isaacs another crack appears in your walls. You almost give in, almost. 

“Not tonight bug.”

You go to Isaac’s side, hand gently running through his hair as you look between him and Robby. “I’m sure Michael’s up early tomorrow for work, so he needs to go home and get some sleep too.”

A slow, sleepy nod from Isaac. His hands reaching out as he leans over as best he can to wrap his arms around Robby who instantly melts into the touch. His own arms wrapping around Isaac as he rubs at his back, he goes to place a soft kiss against the side of his head, but stops himself. Not yet echoing in the back of his mind. 

“Goodnight Michael.”

“Goodnight Isaac.”

Robby’s voice is hushed, melting into the skin around Isaac's neck as he gives a gentle squeeze, you barely hear it but there’s a crack. A break of quiet adoration finally spoken into the universe. When Isaac pulls away, you take a step back and allow him to calibrate himself in his crutches before he waddles away slowly towards the next room. 

“Where’s he going?”

You turn to Robby, soft smile on your lips, “The playroom, because we’re still unpacking it was easier to set his bed up down here for the time being. He has everything he needs and can maintain some of his independence.”

A nod from Robby as he grabs his bag from under the table. There’s something different about him now, not physically but you can still see it. Something had shifted in the very marrow of his bones and the fabric of his soul, there’s a lightness around his eyes you hadn’t seen since you had first started dating. A softness to the hard exterior of a man. A permanence in the way he looked at you, and Isaac, and the life you had built like this was now his forever and he had simply spent the last ten years looking for a way home. 

Another shared look, softer this time. A shared acknowledgement of the new lives you were now building around you, brick by brick. Story by story. Dinner by dinner. It would take time, but maybe you could learn to love again. 

You walk Robby to the door, that familiar blanket of warmth drawing closer around you but not yet fully settling around your skin as he turns to wish you good night. There’s a moment of hesitation with you both, silence stretching into the night and being lifted on a summer breeze. Neither of you make a move, just look. 

Robby wants to reach out, to feel you in his arms and hold you there once again. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to push. To make you uncomfortable. Even if you looked devastatingly beautiful in the moonlight. 

You want to reach out too, even if just to feel the warmth of his skin or the scratch of his beard against your palm as you cup his cheek. But you hold back, arms instead wrapping protectively around your chest. Protecting your heart from the now more noticeable crack in its walls. 

“Goodnight Michael.”

Quiet, a whisper almost lost to the hoot of an owl and the crunch of gravel as tires drag across a driveway. But still there, more veneration than you had intended. 

“Goodnight.”

Soft, sweet, reverent. Almost a solemn prayer and a promise wrapped into one. It wasn’t a goodbye, it was an I’ll see you tomorrow.

And as the door closed, more golden light poked through your armored walls.

___

The next few weeks are filled with evening visits and dinners, weekends spent as a family unit. Your living room turned from an area of rest and relaxation to a graveyard of pillow and blankets, forts made and burned to the ground in imaginary war zones. Instead of silence or music, a random tv show in the background or the sounds of video games, there squeals of laughter. What once was dead space, is now alive. A thrumming pulse of activity, a lifeline you didn’t know you desperately needed.

Isaac adjusts to his crutches, moving more fluidly and with less fear, and Michael shows up. Every night, even if it’s late and all I can do is a quick hello and a goodnight. Days off where he would lock himself up with medical journals and spiraling thoughts are now spent at your home, under a mountain of blankets and pillows you had deliberately pulled out of storage or with toy cars and race tracks in his hands. Stories are swapped, laughter spilled like wine and whiskey that warms him from the inside. 

Then there's the closeness with you, hesitant touches as you brush against each other shifting into something more deliberate. Your shoulder pressed into his as he helps you in the kitchen, hand lingering just a moment too long as you hand him something, thighs pressed close together as you sit on the sofa and watch Isaac present a magic trick he had learned on youtube. 

Then there’s the first night he stays. It's July 5th and despite an exhausting day before in the ER, Robby takes Isaac out to the Carnegie Science Center during the day to not only spend time with his son but to give you space to work, unpack and breathe. Despite insisting you were fine, Michael could see the way you wobbled on the tightrope between exhaustion and burnout, one wrong step and you would collapse. 

Isaac, of course, had an incredible time and was basically humming with barely contained excitement as Michael pushed him through the door on the temporary wheelchair you had rented. His voice loud and boisterous as he rattled off all the things they had seen, everything he had got to do and try. His eyes were alight with life and passion and you couldn’t help but smile at him. 

Behind him, the sun is just starting to set the brilliant gold of the day transforming into something softer as yellows and orange streak across the cloudless sky and if you look closely enough you can see some hues of indigo and violet mixing in. They frame Michael in a halo of colour, edges soft and shadow blurred behind him, as he steps through the front door. 

There was always an air of permanent exhaustion around Michael, he supposed it went with the territory of being caked in the scent of anti-sceptic and blood and illness that he carried with him from being in the ER, yet he felt lighter than he had in years. Being with Isaac did more than bring him joy, it was actively reviving him. He had long ago accepted that his life would be short flings and one-night stands, loneliness displaced by the sound of voices on the tv as he tried to sleep. But now? 

Now he saw what his life could be, full of life. Full of love. Full of hope. Hope for a future he had no idea existed only a month ago. 

“You coming in?”

Your voice is soft, teasing as you lean against the wall at the end of the hallway with your arms crossed and head tilted to the side. Michael had been standing there for a few moments too long, just watching Isaac as he transferred from the wheelchair to his crutches and settled into the sofa. 

The boxes that had lingered around the door for the past few weeks are gone and as Michael moves inside he sees the living room is decorated with trinkets and books and candles. Photos line the walls and the bookshelf is impeccably ordered, the first one that catches Michael’s eyes is one he had gotten you. Limited edition copies of The Lord of the Rings series, still perfect as if they hadn’t been touched. Then he spots the photo next to it. 

It’s a recent one. Of him and Isaac surrounded by pillows and cars and books on the living room floor (where the coffee table now is) both with smiles on their faces. He never even noticed you taking the picture.

“You’ve had a busy day.”

A snort from you as you run your fingers through your hair and push yourself off the wall, “Yeah, I uh… I couldn’t keep still.”

Michael looks at you, a smirk on his face that crinkles his crows feet and sends a flutter through your heart. 

“You could have asked for help, you know.”

A soft sigh, a gentle look from the corner of your eyes as you rock back on your feet. 

“I know, I’m still getting used to this whole not doing it alone thing.”

Michael nods, then notices the two used and empty wine glasses on the dining table and shakes his head with a small laugh as you follow his gaze with a shrug.

“I also had Dana over to help.”

You nudge his shoulder playfully before stepping back, “Go sit down, Isaac’s requested a movie night and the popcorns just finished.” 

As you pass Isaac on the couch, you ruffle his hair and press a kiss against the top of his head and laugh softly when he scrunches up his nose.

“What do you want to drink bug?”

“A sprite please”

A nod from you, eyes moving over to Michael with a soft smile, “You want a beer?”

Michael moves the sofa, covered in soft throw blankets and pillows, kicking his shoes off and placing them under the coffee table as he does, and gives a small nod before sitting at the end of the sofa. Isaac is in the middle of the three-seater, sitting closer to the other end than he is to Michael but despite their growing relationship he doesn’t want to push any further than he’s allowed. But then Isaac’s tugging on his hand, pulling him closer to him to show off the features of the toy they had picked up at the bookshop. 

He leans in close, arm wrapping around the back of the sofa to allow him as close as Isaac wants, to look it over. There’s buttons and lights and a remote that Isaac hands him with an excited smile, at the look a pleasant crack ricochets through his body right down the middle of the cinderblock that had been slowly eroding over the past few weeks. 

It's no bigger than a brick now, sitting tucked tight underneath his ribs instead of the domineering pressure on his chest it had once been. Still there, lingering, but buried under layers of soft cotton and the butterfly wings of Isaac eyelashes as they blink up at him. Grief now replaced with learning and light and love. 

You join them a few seconds later, popcorn bowl placed in Isaac’s lap and Michael notices the peanut m&m’s and candied almonds and can’t help but tuck his chin to try and hide his smile. He knew that was your influence, and of course you catch it as you hand him an open beer.

“What are you smiling at?”

There’s a small spark of electricity up your arm as your fingers brushed, and you stop, for just a moment. Fingers pressed softly against one another as Michael wraps his hand around yours. There’s mischief and teasing in the starbursts of his eyes, the golden hour light making them shine even brighter than normal. His eyes dart to the popcorn bowl, then back to you, fingers tightening just a little.

“Some things just don’t change.”

There’s a playful roll of your eyes, an unconscious smile stretching across your face as you finally pull your hand back and let him take the beer from you. Then you’re gone again, just for a moment, then you’re handing Isaac his sprite in a non-spill cup that he can keep beside him and placing a glass of wine on the coffee table for yourself before throwing a bag of candy at Michael with a playful glare. 

It hits his chest, bounces to his knees and he laughs. Full, unrestrained. But his eyes never leave yours as you settle in next to Isaac on the other side, he brings his free hand up to his face and attempts to hide the smile between his fingers but he fails and you’re laughing alongside him. Another crack, this time in your walls, spider webs turning into full fractures that allow pieces to crumble around you. Golden light penetrates and fills you with a warmth you’re still too scared to admit you not only missed, but craved in the deepest parts of your soul. 

It’s still early-ish, the soft yellows and oranges transforming into deep indigos and violets as the sun slowly dips lower in the sky, your phone reading as 8:45. You agreed to let Isaac stay up a bit later than usual, the energy from the day not yet fully leaving his system, and agree that each of you will pick one movie. Isaac picks Wall-E, it’s one of his favourites and you’re just grateful he hasn’t chosen Meet the Robinsons again. 

There’s laughter shared throughout the movie, jokes and comments about certain scenes. If there was one thing you could say about Michael coming back into your life, it’s that it’s never truly quiet and you appreciate it. He, and Isaac, reminded you every day that there was more to life than just surviving and trying your best and that you needed space to simply be and live too. 

By the end of the first movie, night had fully set in and the stars give little sprinkles of silver light through your blinds. It’s the only light, but it’s all you need against the backdrop of the TV. You’ve all shifted on the sofa. You with your legs up to your side as you lean in close to Isaac with one arm supporting your head on the sofa. Isaac is leaning in close against Michael, head resting softly against his shoulder as best he can with his leg propped on the coffee table and Michael is closer to him. Hand wrapped around the back now laying gently against Isaac’s shoulder. And somewhere along the way, all three of you had ended up wrapped up in your giant throw blanket and the pillows were thrown to the floor. 

You can see the tiredness finally settle in Isaac, in how his eyes are starting to close over just a bit and he has to force them awake. In the limpness of his hand as you hold it in your free one. He still asks for another movie. 

You let Michael choose this one, content to just exist in space with the two. Honestly, they could have chosen the most boring movie in existence and you would have been happy. He chooses Matilda. You give him a curious glance when he clicks on the movie, it was unexpected and he simply shrugs but there’s lightness in his eyes. A memory flashing between them and you wonder if he’s also remembering the first night you stayed at his place when you started dating. 

The mountain of blankets you had formed on his bed, brought from your own home, curling up in his arms as you waxed poetic about the how it was one of your favourites telling stories of lazy sundays spent at your grandparents with the movie on the background. How you, in your young mind, had convinced yourself you were like Matilda and tried to move things with your mind. The smile on his face and the small chuckle he lets out tell you he is. 

You can feel your cheeks heat at the look and quickly look away, glancing down at Isaac to see him perk up a little bit as the movie starts. You place a quick kiss to his head and lean further into him, head leaning against his as you readjust on the sofa. As you move, so does Michael. His hand and arm now leaning against the back, his fingers trailing gently against the skin of your neck and your clothed shoulder. Heat blooms wherever he touches, spreads out and trickles down your spine. 

It’s quieter now, laughter now hushed. Conversation abandoned as you both let Isaac drift off to sleep but you can feel Michael’s eyes on you almost the whole time. He’s watching the way you mouth along to the script, the way your head bobs slightly to the music, a warm smile on his face the entire time.

Then the movie ends, screen turning black as the credit’s roll. Michael pauses it, a comfortable silence stretches over you. That old tattered blanket settles closer to you, wrapping around your ribs but not yet settling on your shoulders but it doesn’t restrict. It is comforting. It's warm, familiar. An old friend coming home. 

There’s a shared breath, deep, grounding. Both of you look at Isaac who snores gently at your side, then Michael looks at you with a soft smile on your face. He wants to take his phone out and take a photo, commit this image to memory forever so he can look back on it on the long days. He realises then, he doesn’t want to leave. Could spend the rest of his days just locked in this moment.

“You want me to lift him into bed?”

It’s a whisper, soft. Gentle. And just like that the world comes back into focus, the sound of cicadas filtering in through the open window, a radio from a small party down the street playing soft music as it winds down. The twinkling stars and moonlight as they shine in the sky, reflecting off the glass of the coffee table and sending a kaleidoscope spreading across the floor. It’s something delicate, breakable. You don’t want to move, slow your breathing so as not to disturb the movement. 

Then there’s a startling thought, you don’t want him to go. You could get used to this, to Michael being not only in your life but in your space. Potentially in your heart once again.  It scares you, but you don’t let it stop you. Your conversation with Dana ringing in the back of your mind, don’t let fear stop you from living.

“Yeah, I’ll get everything cleaned up”

A nod, then you’re both slowly moving off the sofa so as not to disturb Isaac. As you gather the dishes and empty bags into the near empty popcorn bowl, Michael gently hoists Isaac into his arm being very careful so as not to bang his broken leg. You watch his back as he disappears down the hallway and into the playroom before making your way to the kitchen.

When he returns, you're leaning against the counter and responding to a text. Michael doesn’t clear his throat, barely makes a sound as he pads into the kitchen and yet your body knows he’s there and you look up instinctively. He’s only a few steps away

“I should go”

Soft, whispered into the night. A heart beat slams in your ears, you can’t tell if it’s yours.

“You should stay.”

A look of shock, a skipped heart beat. Elation blooming in Michael’s veins, yet trepidation leaks from his tongue.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

You roll your eyes, softly. Affectionately.

“I still have a pair of your old sweats, I can put your clothes in the washer and dryer before we go to bed.”

A moment of stillness, a shared recognition of I don’t want this to end. A step closer, you can’t tell who takes it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Then you’re taking a step back, leading Michael up the stairs to your bedroom where you riffle through drawers before pulling out an old worn pair of sweats. Their college branded, Michaels alma mater, a little tattered and worn but still perfectly wearable. As Michael takes them, they are soft and obviously still well cared for. 

“Thank you.”

You nod, gentle, eyes soft as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Bathroom is just there,” You point to the door at the top of the stairs, “The guest bedroom is beside it.” 

Another soft ‘thanks’ passed from Michael's lips, and you nod before turning back down the stairs. When you reach the kitchen, there’s silence. Cicada’s no longer chirp, the dimmed down radio is now quiet and the gentle summer breeze no longer ruffles the trees. The air feels heavy, tense. Full of anticipation and longing and maybe something a little more dangerous. It’s the time before a storm, before the world around you is thrown into chaos. Where most people seek shelter.

And yet, there’s peace. You are not outside of the storm watching it destroy the world, but in it. Cradled gently in its arms at the center. You were safe. Warm. Protected. A feeling of whatever happens here, now, it would not destroy you. 

There’s a deep breath as you steady yourself against the kitchen counter, eyes closing for just a moment. A thousand what if’s playing in your mind, a thousand reasons this won’t work and then a thousand more of what if it does? You try not to swell on them too long and quickly regain your composure. Another deep breath, rattling against your ribs and you open your eyes. 

You busy yourself with pouring another glass of wine and grabbing a cold beer for Michael and he joins you only a minute later. His clothes bundled up in his hands, the sweatpant riding low on his hips and he’s shirtless. You try to stop yourself from trailing your eyes up his body, admiring the pudge of his belly and the happy trail that leads up to his chest hair. When you meet Michael’s eyes and see the small flush dusting his cheeks, you realise you failed. 

Heat rises up your neck and to your cheeks, you hope it isn’t as obvious as it feels. The burn of skin, like touching a hot stove top, spreading like a wildfire. You don’t address it, just clear you throat and take the clothes from him.

“I’ll be uh… back in a second. There’s a beer there for you if you wanna um…wait on the couch. The button for the lamps on the base.”

You don’t wait for him to reply, instead make your way around him with a hitched breath and a hammering heart. It had been years since you had felt like this, it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen a naked man since you had divorced Michael but there was something that was just so uniquely him that it got under your skin. Made you feel crazy and young and totally inexperienced, as if it was your first time seeing him like that. 

You curse to yourself as you load his clothes into the washer, in a small alcove outside the playroom, desperately begging your heart to calm down and remember you’re a grown adult and you can handle this. 

As you do, Michael struggles in the kitchen. As soon as he noticed you looking, more like oggling, his body froze. His heart started hammering against his ribs and his stomach twisted itself in knots over and over again, like some little school boy who had just discovered what feelings were. He wanted to say something a little teasing and maybe just a tad egotistical, but the words got caught on his tongue and his brain completely melted. And just as he finally regained his bearings, you were talking and then you were gone. Disappearing into a little nook just outside the playroom where he assumed the washer and dryer were. 

Michael has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself,  to calm his pounding heart. He clenches and unclenches his hands, his jaw, anything to try and release the roiling tension inside of him that mirrored the tension in the air. Then he takes a step, unsteady. Unsure. Walking a tightrope he knew he was destined to fall off, the only question was when? 

Then another, steadier yet still soft. Bare feet barely making a sound against the wood grain floor. The coldness of the beer and the condensation dripping onto his hand is welcome, a shock to his system that reminds him to take it easy. This is fine. You’re two adults, who just happen to share a kid, spending time together. Once he has the beer and wine in hand, he moves to the sofa and uses his foot to press the button on the lamp. 

The light is gentle, warm, the same yellow as peonies in early summer filtered through the shade. It spotlights the sofa in its glow, fizzling out at the edges and scaring away the creeping shadows in the corners. He takes a seat, one leg folded over the other as he placed both drinks on the coffee table. 

You join him a few minutes later, changed out of your day clothes and into a pair of baggy sweatpants with your own alma mater embroidered into the side and an oversize t-shirt. It’s a band shirt, one that has certainly seen better days with the faded graphics and pain stains dotting the bottom. But it’s still unmistakable, it is was his. He still remembers the day it got the navy blue stain just under the neckline. 

You had just moved in together, about a year before the wedding, and were decorating the bedroom on one of his few days off. He had rubbed at his face not realising there was paint on his fingers and when you had laughed, he had rubbed his face over your shirt in retaliation as you giggled and half-heartedly attempted to push him away. You had both ended the night with paint in places it should not have been. 

He clears his throat, shakes his head lightly as he realises he was staring before re-adjusting on the sofa. You sit at the other end, where you had been before, and drape the blanket over your legs as you pull your knees up to your chest. It makes you look small, fragile. Shoulders curling in as you place your chin atop your knees and wrap your arms around your legs. 

There’s silence, not the dramatic kind where words are left unspoken but the intimate kind of two people learning how to navigate life together again. Your eyes are soft, crinkling at the edges slightly, but still bright under the lamplight. He can see your mind racing behind them in the way your lips twitch and your fingers drum against the blanket as you search for something to say despite the fact the silence doesn’t necessarily need to be filled. 

He scans you, just for a moment. You were still you, the same beautiful woman he had loved all those years ago. But you were different, time and life and motherhood had changed you so fundamentally that were parts of your soul that he didn’t recognise, parts he desperately wanted to meet and map out and learn. He had already started re-painting the tapestry of you in his mind, detailing every grey hair and wrinkle and laugh line, every new freckle on your skin and small scars he had discovered over the last few weeks. The image of you warping from wife to something more reverent and holy, mother and woman and friend transforming the image into something spectacular. 

He also mapped out the hidden hurt in your eyes, the little flickering of pain that had danced across your irises for the last few weeks. How you had tried to keep them hidden, protecting not just your heart but Isaacs. He, of course, knew Michael had hurt you in the past, but you protected him from how it still hurt now. The unspoken words of why wasn’t I enough passing your face for just a fraction of a second every time he comes by. But he saw it. And he knew he needed to apologise for it. 

Michael shifts, both feet now on the floor as he brings his elbows to his knees and clasps his hands together. There’s stillness, a deep breath. A calibration in his mind of what he needs to say. His heart hammers in his chest, as does your as you brace for what was to come. 

There’s a crack of thunder outside, a bright flash of light that illuminates you both. A bright white that streaks across the room, it’s dazzling. Almost a moment frozen in time, a man hunched over as if he was in prayer, hands clasped together so tightly the tips started to turn white, and a woman, his god, holding vigil over his form as finally spoke of his sins. 

“I-” 

There’s a crack in his voice, you can’t tell if it’s a moment of hesitation or an emotional overwhelm that causes it. But there’s a shake to his shoulders, a trembling of his hands, and you can see the way his chest stutters with uneven breaths as he tries to collect himself.

Vulnerability was not something Michael was good at. It scared him. Talks of feelings and fears and hopes and dreams, laying his heart and soul bare to another person was absolutely terrifying. Because once it was all out there, out of his control, they could do anything with it. Hurt him. Punish him. Ruin him. But then they could also support him. Guide him. Love him despite all of the aches and pains and flaws. He had always been so terrified of showing someone the damaged parts of his souls because they might run away and it was so overwhelming that he had never considered the fact that they could also stay. 

He hoped you would stay.

You soften as he gathers himself, legs crossing underneath you and hands falling limp in the gap between them. Your shoulders are still hunched, not with harshness or as a protective instinct but as a gentle spot for him to lay his head if things got too much. You wanted him to know he was safe. You weren’t going to run and hide, you were going to catch him when he falls. No longer holding vigil for a man confessing sin, but offering sanctuary and grace to drowning man.

“I’m sorry for…everything. I was not the man you deserved back then. You were too good for me. Too kind. Too patient. Too loving. You carried everything alone when I should have been by your side carrying the weight alongside you.”

Another deep breath, you can’t tell from who, another tremble in his voice. Your lashline starts to water.

“I was scared… of loving you and being loved by you. I hid inside the hospital and work when things got hard and I refused to let you in because I was scared of what it might do to you, to me, to us.”

His hand lifts, moving slowly and casually between the two of you at the words.

“I…thought I was protecting you, protecting us by separating work and home life but all it did was push you away and I…I should have let you in. Should have told you about things at work, how they made me feel. I should have just tried harder. You were always enough and I loved you,”

He doesn’t let the words I still do out of his mouth, though they rest heavy on his tongue. 

“I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for pushing you away and hiding. For keeping secrets and breaking promises. For making you carry not just our relationship but everything by yourself.” 

A tear streaks down your cheek, leaving a layer of salt in your skin and burning like acid through your walls. It’s a crack right down the middle, rubble falling to your feet as they crumble around you. The dark shroud you had held close to your chest vanishes, chased out by a bright golden starburst of colour that instead envelops you like an old friend. It settles right against your ribs, pushes through your hearts and into your blood stream. The old comfortable blanket now wraps fully around your shoulders, warm and comforting and feeling a little bit too much like home to ignore. 

Your eyes soften and you shift closer to Michael, your knees pressing into his thigh and sides as you reach out and take his hands in yours. He lets you pry them apart and as you lace your hands together he looks at you. Face soft, lips turned up in a soft forgiving smile. Warm, welcoming. Home. 

“I forgive you.”

A whisper into the night, another crack of thunder and a deep breath from you both.

“It hurt, sometimes it still does but that old pain is my issue to deal with now, not yours.”

Soft circles rubbed into skin, trembling fingers and shoulders becoming still. Tears streaking both your faces as emotions settle.

“I forgave you that first taco night because I could see the person you’re turning into. In the dad you’re becoming. We’re different people than we were ten years ago Michael. The man I married and the woman you married are gone, not dead. Just…different. We just need to learn who we are again.”

Another minute of silence, a shared breath. A wound closing over, healing. Then there’s rain. A pounding against the glass, a brief summer storm that lasts only a few minutes. It’s cleansing. Like a river washing away the sins of the past. Of course, evidence of them lingers, marred deep into the bones of the earth. Indents and crevices left behind, but forgotten but ready to be filled again with something new. Something potentially beautiful. 

There’s a few moments of silence between you, the rain a metronome to match your beating hearts. A few shared breaths. Then hands reach out to wipe at the others tears. A moment of stillness where you hold each other's face, fingers splayed across jaws and fingers pressing lightly into necks where you can feel pulses jump underneath skin. You breathe together, 4 in, hold, 4 out. Slowly, almost hesitantly you both pull your hands back. 

Then you readjust, your legs uncross but fold under you and too the side as you lean an elbow into the back of the sofa and Michael leans back, shoulder just millimeters away from your elbow, and places a foot on his knee. Tension has leached from you both, there’s softness there now instead.

The rain stops as you reach for your wine and take a drink and Michael reaches for his beer. More silence, soft. Sweet. A clear sky after the storm has passed. Then Michael looks at you, a question brewing on his tongue and you realise it’s the first time since the hospital where you’ve been alone. Where you’ve talked about something other than Isaac or without him around.

He reaches a hand out, picks an invisible bit of lint of the navy paint stain on your shirt and chuckles lightly. You raise an eyebrow at him and smile.

“You know I hunted for this shirt for two weeks after you left the apartment.”

You huff out a small laugh, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Yeah?”

He nods, slow almost melodramatically and something warms inside you.

“Yeah…”

He doesn’t elaborate on why he was looking for it, doesn’t have too. The words are there, dancing in the air. It was because he missed you. Neither of you comment on it. But it opens up the conversation, the first real adult one you’ve had since your dramatic reunion and it’s nothing like you expected.

It’s soft words and almost whispers, questions and answers, stories spilled like whiskey and honey. You’re relearning each other, almost like it’s the first time again. 

You talk about your favourite colours and books and movies, warmth bubbling inside of both of you as memories are swapped from a time before. No venom in the words, but joy and happiness of what was and what could be. You tell him you now strongly dislike, not hate (you were very specific about that) the colour purple because someone in Nevada had ruined it for you, he tells you how he had fallen out of love with one of his old comfort shows after a patient had told him an unsettling fact about the production.

Michael comments on the pristine special editions of Lord of the Rings and you tell him they're simply too precious to ever touch, but he could read them to Isaac if he wanted. He laughed at that and agreed. He comments on the decor, how your tastes have changed and you laugh saying it’s simply more child friendly but you want to get more art and pictures for the walls, especially of Michael and Isaac and even the three of you.

Then you talk about work. Michael telling stories of some wild cases he’s had in the ER, making sure to not mention names or identifying information, one he told was a man who had called his girlfriend after an accident but the nurse had also called his emergency contact who was his wife and the explosive fight that had happened in the trauma bay. How Ahmed and the security team had to force them out and threaten to call the cops, how the divorce papers arrived that same day as well as a break up text from the girlfriend. The girlfriend had come in five months later with the wife by her side and they were thick as thieves. Your eyes bulged at the story and the giggles were pouring out of you along with a ‘good for them’ at the end. 

You tell Michael stories of how you got to where you are now, how a crazy coworker got fired after stalking one of the young interns. The drama and gossip from inter-departmental arguments and affairs, stupid executive decisions and idiot clients. When you told him about how you, very politely, chewed out a client for sexist comments about you and your co-worker he laughed a full belly laugh, hand clutching his stomach as his whole body shook with the force.

“You always were a little spitfire.”

A light shove to his shoulder and an affectionate eye roll from you and then you were both giggling. Then there was silence, the cicadas were brought back to life outside chirping a symphony that seemed almost recognisable. There was a moment, accented by the hoot of an owl, where you both realised you didn’t want the night to end but then the washer played its soft song and you looked at the clock. It was just past midnight and you knew Isaac would be up in only a few hours. 

A deep breath, then a whisper. A delicate thing, soft enough to be heard but not break the atmosphere that had settled.

“We should head to bed.”

As Michael looked at the clock, you realised just how close you had gotten. Your knees now rested on top of Michael’s thigh and you were tucked in close to his chest and his arm was thrown behind you. Lazy, unassuming, but you could still feel his fingers twitch against your shoulder. 

“Yeah, we should.”

But you both make no immediate move to stand up, instead linger together for a few more seconds. Your heart thumps, his breath rattles. You both look at each other's lips, then away again. You want to kiss him, he wants to kiss you but neither of you move. 

A horn blares outside, someone chasing away an animal on the road before a collision you think, and the moment shatters. You clear your throat, standing quickly and moving away from the sofa. There’s another look, somewhere between longing and regret and dangerous emotions you aren’t ready to face yet.

“Goodnight Mikey.”

Michael stands, makes his way to where you stand at the bottom of the stairs just before the alcove for the washer and dryer. His lips quirk and his heart quickens at the old nickname.

“Goodnight spitfire”

Doctors shouting orders over the beeping of heart monitors and the clicking wheels of gurneys as paramedics bring more patients in. Nurses rushing from station to station in a haze of movement and noise, carrying cooling blankets and dishing them out in the waiting room and halls because there simply wasn’t enough space in the trauma bays, while also keeping an eye for disorientation and other side effects. 

Robby had just stepped out of a bike accident, a teenager whose shoulder had dislocated upon impact with the ground and who was suffering from some internal bleeding after being hit in the stomach with the handles as they crested over a hill, he had done what he could. Stabilised him and got him prepped for surgery, the case was no longer in his hands. 

He steps up to the nurses desk, hand running down his face as he takes a deep breath. The clock was just ticking over to 1pm, what would be the half-way point of the shift, but something inside him knew he was going to be here much longer than 7pm. He smiles softly to Dana who offers him a bottle of water, somewhere along the way she had been put in charge of making sure everyone stayed hydrated because lord knows everyone would have forgotten and then they would really be in shit when doctors and nurses started dropping because of heat stroke. 

He offers a soft ‘thanks’ as he takes slow sips of the water, it's ice cold and he’s grateful for the shock it delivers to his system, for the way he can already feel the headache brewing starting to fade. His hand shakes a little as he holds it, but soon settles as Dana hands him a chart after a few seconds.One for the last patient, and he fills it in quickly so he’s ready to jump into action for the next patient that comes through. Which doesn’t take long.

“Male, 9 years old. Took a fall at the park, a potential fractured ankle and a small head contusion.” 

He goes to move, to take a step away from the nurses desk to get the patient, but Dana stops him. A gentle hand on his arm to hold him in place, and he gives her a puzzled look.

“Collins, this one’s yours.”

Robby’s eye brows pinch up in confusion and he goes to argue but then he looks to the child on the stretcher, eyes casting over the face of the paramedics and to the frazzled mother at their side. It takes him a second, his brain racing to catch up with what he’s seeing. He refuses to believe it’s real, that it wasn’t his imagination and heart playing tricks on him like it had a thousand times before. 

He shakes his head, rubs his eyes, then looks again to see if the face has morphed but it hasn’t.  It’s you. It had been nearly ten years, and yet here you stood. Eyes wide with worry and hands clutched in the little boys as he sniffles and rubs away the tears in his eyes. 

Eyes that look strangely like his, a deep hazel with flecks of green and gold that reflect little starbursts when hit with the light. He scans the boy, taking in his face and features. The wild unruly dark hair, the tip and point of his nose, even the way his mouth curves down in a frown are so shockingly similar that Robby has to remember to breathe. 

He stands still for a heartbeat, mind racing with a thousand possibilities and reasonings. It could simply be coincidence, you had met someone new and started a family with them. He could be adopted and just share similarities with Robby and because he hadn’t seen you in so long he was grasping at any form of connection. 

But then your eyes meet Robby's. There’s a flicker of unnamed emotion, then panic, then protectiveness as you step closer to the gurney and position yourself so Robby can no longer see the boy. He goes to take a step towards you, but is gently pulled back by Dana as she whispers, “not now”, just barely heard over the pounding of his heart that matches the rhythm of the monitors around them. 

Then Doctor Collins approaches, a warm smile on her face as she takes the two of you back to the peds bay. You’re gone in a matter of seconds, the door to peds sliding closed and breaking whatever tension had been building in Robby. He stumbles backwards, tailbone hitting the edge of the desk as he reaches his hand behind him to stabilize himself. 

Dizziness now swarmed his head and made the world spin. His whole world had just tilted on its axis and he didn’t know how he was going to go on now, if he could even go on like he was before. There’s a thundering in his ears, the rush of his own blood as his heart pounds so heavily against his ribs he’s surprised it doesn’t just rip out and throw itself on the floor. Nausea wells in his stomach, burns at his throat, and he can’t seem to get a full breath in. 

Then there’s coolness against the back of his neck, like ice pressed against his skin. His hand is lifted to a chest and through muddled sounds he can just make out someone asking him to follow their breathing pattern. He tries, and initially fails, but the icy coldness starts to shock his nervous system back into a normal rhythm and he does it. Deep breaths rattle against his chest and fill his lungs with blessed air, his heart starts to slow down just a little and the rushing in his ears fades. His head still spins a little, but it’s manageable now. 

He’s sitting now, but Robby doesn’t know when that happened, in one of the desk chairs and he’s shielded behind the barriers around the nurses stations where prying eyes can’t watch him seemingly fall apart. Dana is in front of him, his hand still placed on her chest as he mirrors her breathing, eyes full of concern but not scrutiny. As if she expected this to happen the minute you walked through the door. 

There’s silence for a few beats, seconds really, as Robby comes back into his body. He feels the sticky heat of the room, how his scrubs rub uncomfortably against his skin, the creaks and cracks of his joints as he clenches and unclenches his free hand as if he’s trying to hold onto something that exists only in his imagination. Sounds filter back in, the shuffle of feet and the beat of heart monitors suddenly overwhelming and loud and he flinches back at them slightly. 

He removes his hand from Dana’s hold and leans forward with his elbows and his knees as he rubs at his face anxiously. There’s a choked sound from him, like holding back tears, as he looks at her. 

“How old is he?”

Dana lets out a sigh, eyes scanning over this face because they both already know the answer, “9 almost 10.”

“Fuck”

Robby leans back fully into the chair now, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as if they could stop him from crying. It works, for now. 

“You know you can’t go in there.”

Dana’s voice is soft, calming, a mother setting a boundary with an upset child. She knew what he was going to do before he even did, and he just sighs and throws his head back against the rim of the chair. He wants to go in, to see you. To see his son. The word felt like a cinder block in the dead center of his chest. But he can’t. 

“I know”

And he doesn’t, at least not right away. The next three hours are a blur of patients and treatments, instinct over riding choice as he flows through them with head (and heart) half way in peds and with what was happening there. Then he gets a pediatric case, a five year old girl who had slipped on the edge of the pool and hit her head, Dana insists he reassign it but everyone else is busy with their own patients. So, he goes with the young girl and her family through the sliding glass doors and into the pediatric unit. 

He spots you almost immediately, eyes drawn to you like you were his center of gravity. You're sitting on the bed, eyes staring intently at Collins as she goes over treatment, but your hand is in the boys. Clasped tight and rubbing soothing circles into the skin as his other hand plays with a toy plane. Distracted, happy if the smile was anything to go by. Kids always were resilient little things. 

He can finally take you in properly, not much had changed in the 10 years since he had seen you. Your hair was a little different, maybe a little bit shorter and styled in a way he hadn’t seen before. It framed your face beautifully. There were little crinkles at the side of your eyes, the beginning of crows feet starting to form and laugh lines decorated your forehead like a map leading him to treasure. Your eyes were the same. Beautiful, sharp, always observing and watching. A kaleidoscope of colours that he had spent endless nights getting lost in all those years ago. Even under the clean fluorescence of the hospital lights, there was something golden and magnetic about them. 

You were as beautiful as the day you met, and the day he lost you. 

As his patient is transferred to the bed, with the help of Mataeo and Donnie, he offers her a warm smile. Her parents stand at the end of the bed, hands clasped together so tight that Robby worries they’ll cut off each other's circulation, he had never understood a parent's worry before. Not truly. He could empathize with them, but he had never felt that bone-deep panic and fear of wondering if your child would be okay even if it was a simple graze on the knee, but as his eyes snap to the young boy at your side some part of him finally understands. 

The cinderblock presses down against his chest, makes it hard to breath and makes every move he makes disjointed, he has to think about what he’s doing now rather than following routine. He knows he has no right to feel like that, he didn’t even know the boy but as he watched the way he smiled up at you and how he laughed with Collins as she told a silly story, he can’t help the way his heart twists itself into knots. He’s not sure if it's worry about his health, or the grief of never knowing him that causes it. 

As he treats the girl in front of him, who had proudly proclaimed her name as Amelia, he keeps his eyes off you. He patches up the cut on her forehead with some derma-bond, making sure to tell her if wouldn’t leave a scar when it healed because she was sad she wouldn’t be pretty anymore with a scar, and goes through the concussion protocol with practised ease. Though he’s pretty sure she’s cleared of any concussions, he asks Mataeo to put in a CT order just so they can be sure. 

His eyes drift over to you again, only to find you watching him as Collins motions him over. Your shoulders are rigid, tension obvious as you move almost robotically while turning to the boy who had asked you a question. Where there was a harshness in your eyes when you looked at him, there’s now softness and love as you whisper low enough for only him to hear. There’s a giggle that passes his lips, soft and sweet and it sends a sharp spear of grief through Robby's heart. 

“Everything okay Doctor Collins?”

Robby approached slowly, making sure to stay at the foot of the bed by Collin’s side and not up close to you. His eyes stay on the boy, who's smiling up at him warmly and there's another stab to his heart. Collins looks up at him, offering up the tablet with a smile and a nod.

“Yeah, just want a second opinion on the x-ray.” 

As he eyes the x-ray, he takes in the name Isaac. It had been his grandfather's name, one he had told you he wanted to use if you had ever had kids. He has to clear his throat to try and subdue the well of emotion that was rising inside of it. He spends much longer looking at the x-rays than he really should, using it as a distraction so he could avoid looking at you and Isaac. 

He looks away when you clear your throat, eyes slightly downcast so you’re not looking straight at him. He hands the tablet back to Collins, eyes moving to Isaac who busies himself with the multiple planes and cars in his lap. 

“Looks like a Salter-Harris type three”

Collins nods to his words with a soft sigh, “That’s what I thought.”

Both Robby and Collins give Isaac a sympathetic smile as Robby takes a step back from the bed, “I’ll put the call into ortho”

Collins nods as she turns her attention back to you and Isaac, taking time and care to explain what the next steps of treatment would be. Your eyes snap up to Robby’s for just a fraction of a second, not even a full heartbeat, and he can see the panic and worry in them. The need for reassurance that this was the best path, but he can’t give that. Instead he ducks his head down and turns around, slipping out past the sliding glass doors where he takes a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“You alright?”

Dana’s voice stretches over the thrall of beeping machines and hushed conversations from where she stands at the nurses desk, hand propped on her hip as she eyes him up and down. As if she’s taking emotional stock of him in case he collapses again. 

“Yeah I’m good.”

There’s a scratchiness to voice, a husky timber that shows he is not, in fact, good. Dana nods her head unconvincingly, eyes moving to the ambulance bay doors as she tilts her head towards them, “Why don’t you go get some air? We’re good here”

Robby just nods his head, ducking down and keeping his chin close to his chest as he shoves his hands into his pocket and makes his way out to the ambulance bay. It's quiet there, beeping and voices being contained by sliding glass doors, there's no rig with blaring sirens and flashing lights. The heat feels heavy against his chest, but it's a welcome relief compared to the cinder block that had lodged itself between his ribs and right against his heart. 

As he leans against the wall, head gently thudding against the brick as he repeatedly rubs at his face, Robby wishes he was a smoker and could smoke away all the feelings inside of him as he thought back to that final fight. 

_____

It was late December, in that space between Christmas and New Years where time didn’t seem real and people seemed to exist in a vacuum of joy and holiday spirit. In a rare occurrence of meteorological mystery, the sky over Pittsburgh is clear. The moon and stars twinkled and streaked the city in rays of silver, it was almost dream-like. Time frozen still as the world took a much needed breath. 

But inside your apartment, it was a war zone. Robby had come home to lamp lights dim as you rushed around the apartment and picked up clothes and documents. Special, sentimental items, shoving them in different boxes and a suitcase that lay on what was once your shared bed. But neither of you knew the last time you had both slept in it together, it was probably a few weeks before Christmas after one too many drinks at your office holiday party. 

You’re silent as you pack, don’t even acknowledge Robby as he steps into the room. Your eyes are sharp, clinical, narrowed into a glare any time you look at him. When he first walked in, he was shell shocked. Hand hovering over the coat rack where he intended to place his hoodie, but he was frozen in place. His mind whirled and tried to reckon with what was happening.

“Honey…”

His voice was soft as he spoke, footsteps light as he tried to approach you. A predator approaching a wounded animal, trying to convince them they are safe. The cat and the mouse. The cat desperately trying to claim they’ve changed and the mouse refusing to believe it a second time. 

You are having none of it, eyes narrowed into a tight glare that causes Robby to shrink back and if looks could kill he would be dead 50 times over. He puts his hands up, a sign of silent surrender, as you continue to move around the room. He desperately wants to stop you, to change things. To make things better.

“Tell me what's going on”

You freeze, body hunched over the coffee table where some of your favourite books lay, your shoulders were already tight with tension but now they’re even tighter. Coiling up like a cobra ready to strike. You're slow as you rise, deliberately slow, and there’s a look in your eyes that is absolutely deadly. 

“Whats going on?”

There’s an edge to your voice, a dangerous undercurrent of devastation and rage culminating in a deadly strike against Robby’s heart. He looks confused, face scrunched up and eyes wide, and devastated. Body curling in on itself protectively, shoulder slumped and head dipped just enough that he can still maintain eye contact with you. A man bracing for impact just before it comes.

“What's going on is I’m done.” 

Your last word is edged with a finality he hadn’t heard before, not in previous arguments, and one that left no space for argument or for fixing things. You throw your hands up, not dramatically but in resignation.

“I’m done with the empty promises and the waiting and the lies.”

Your voice breaks then, the quiet devastation that had been festering for months crawling to the surface, claws digging into your heart and not letting go. Tears form at your lash line, but they don’t fall. You refuse to let them.

“I am tired of begging you to be here. To be home. To be present. To be my fucking husband.”

His ring feels heavy on his finger now, the metal burning its way through flesh and into bone. A reminder of the promises he had made two years ago, one he knows he’s failed to maintain recently. There’s a weight in his chest, a heavy grief and pain that lodges itself under his ribs. 

His face morphs from confusion to sadness, grief evident in his eyes and in the slope of his mouth as it turns down into a frown. It almost breaks you, the wolf turned into a puppy. But you can’t let it. 

“I…” A half-step forward, a hand reaching out to touch you that falls by his side, a rattling breath as emotion rises inside of him. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, Robby wasn’t one to cry. Not one to break. He was the pinnacle of strength. But this, this was shattering him. 

“I’m trying… please… don’t do this.” 

There’s a crack in his voice, one that pierces the armour you had drawn around yourself. But mentally, you just pull it closer around you. Refusing to let any weaknesses through.

“I booked that trip you wanted, got tickets to the concert you wanted to go to. I’m try -”

You cut him off then, one hand in the air as you rapidly blink away the tears that had formed. There’s a terrifying calmness in your voice now, one that’s more devastating than the silence or shouting. A quiet finality. A confirmation that this was the end.

“Were you trying when you took that overtime shift instead of coming out to dinner for my birthday?” 

A step towards him.

“Were you trying when, instead of being by my side after my grandma got sick, you went out with Jack?” 

Another step.

“Were you trying when you told me a major trauma had come in and you had to stay later, only for my friends to see you out drinking?” 

And another. 

“ You’re never here. I love you but I didn’t marry a ghost.”

Your voice was sharp, clear. Every letter edged with the tip of a blade as you spoke, one that cut deep into Robby’s skin. Leaving him bloody and bruised, scars forming in jagged marks across his heart. Then you were gone, a friend arriving moments later to load your things into their car before you drove off into the night.  Leaving Robby in a half-empty apartment, hollow of all the things that made it a home. 

_____

It’s the sound of your voice that pulls him out of his reverie. Soft, sweet like honey as it dripped down his spine and caused a shiver to rattle his body. He opens his eyes to look at you, tracking you as you pace back and forth in place. Your phone is up to your ear, voice low as you explain to whoever's on the other end that Isaac needs surgery. When you notice him, eyes widening just a fraction, you quickly end the call with a promise to work from home and a goodbye.

Silence stretches over you, a prickly blanket that sticks into your skin. It’s uncomfortable. More suffocating than the heat. You sigh, eyes cast to the ground, then there’s a deep breath. A step, and then another, until you’re leaning back against the wall beside Robby. 

Another beat of silence, the sound of beeping horns and pedestrians filling the space. You close your eyes for half a second, head leaning back against the wall as you take a deep breath. Robby breaks the silence first.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice breaks, cracking right at the end. The emotions he had been so desperately trying to hold onto finally spilling out.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything Michael”

Your voice is softer now, a whisper that’s almost lost in the wind as you look to the ground, foot pushing around an invisible piece of dirt. “You were a ghost, and he needed a father. I…”

You look up at Robby now, the words catching in your throat as you take a gulp and a deep breath, “I didn’t trust that you could be that.” 

Another stretch of silence, the rush of blood and a strong heartbeat filling Robby’s ears. First there's anger. Anger for the fact that you had kept this from him. Anger for the fact that he didn’t see his first steps, his first words, his first tooth falling out. Anger for the fact that he had messed up once and you took something so important away from him. 

Then there’s realisation. That it wasn’t just once. It was time and time and time again where he failed to show up for you. Failed to be there when you needed him. Failed in being a husband. He had thought providing stability and comfort, a hand to hold when things got hard, was enough. But it wasn’t. What you needed was consistency, showing love in the small little things of everyday life and not the grand romantic gestures he always used to try and pacify you (something he had only realised after being told off by Dana when the divorce was finalised). He didn’t give you that.

That then leads to understanding. He understood why you did it, it was self-preservation. He had hurt you before, and he could hurt you again, could have hurt your son, if you had stayed. Another deep breath, this time from Robby, as he crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from you.

There’s a crack of thunder in the sky, then a flash of lightning. Suddenly there’s heavy rain, the pavement slick wet in a matter of seconds. Protected under the shelter of the ambulance bay, only a few small ricochets of water hit you. Suddenly the air isn’t stifling or sticky, it doesn’t suffocate. It’s clear. Clean. Cleansing the world to allow for new beginnings. 

“Can I meet him, properly?”

Robby eyes are on you again, hope lacing every colour and fracture of gold as they reflect the sun rays through the clouds. You take a deep breath, hands clenching in front of you. It’s been ten years, you're a different person than you were at twenty-seven, and maybe (hopefully) Robby is too.

“Yes, you can.”

It’s nearly three hours later, the clock just ticking over to 7.30 pm that Robby comes to see you again. His last patient was treated, handover was completed with Jack who looked at him quizzically when he didn’t head for the locker room. 

“You staying late?” 

Jack's voice is quiet, it's not unusual for day shift to stay late. Especially after such a chaotic shift, but things had mellowed out. The late afternoon thunderstorm slowed things down to a manageable pace, so there was no need for Robby to stay. 

“I’ve got something I need to do before I go.”

Jack raises his eyebrow, a question brewing on his tongue that he swallows down when he sees your maiden name listed next to a peds case. One click and he sees you listed as the mother and emergency contact. A puzzle piece slots into place, something to file away for later. 

Then Robby’s gone from the handover desk, disappearing behind sliding glass doors and colourful walls with painted animals. His heart beats heavy against his chest, the cinder block that had lodged underneath his rips starting to crack just a little, the weight lightning just a fraction. Anxiety roils in his stomach, flipping over and over and causing nausea to rise in his throat. 

Then he sees you and Isaac. His leg propped up in a sling high above the bed, his head pressed into your chest as you lay beside him on the bed. Your voice is quiet, whispered so as not to disturb the other patients, but melodic as you read to him. There is an old, well-worn and obviously loved, copy of The Golden Compass in your hand. 

Robby recognises it immediately, having seen the copy in your shared home once upon a time. He remembered briefly, the sound of your voice as you read it to him one night when you first started dating. The sound of your voice pushing him over the edge to sleep. Sometimes, he still heard it in his dreams.

He stops for a second, just a little bit away from the bed, and takes a deep breath. His heart quietens down, his anxiety dissipates just a little. Then there’s a sensation of peace. A quiet recognition of it was always meant to be this way. He wasn’t ready to be a father back then, hell he probably wasn’t even ready to be a husband, but now the moment seemed right.  

Your eyes glance up, some unnamed but not unknown instinct telling you that Robby was there. You smile at him, quiet. Soft. But still guarded. Still observing. Isaac follows your movement, his head turning slightly to turn to Robby. He’s tired, eyes flickering closed every few seconds as he tries to fight to stay awake, but he still smiles. Warm, bright. Loved. 

“Hi”

Again your voice is quiet, barely carrying over the sound of monitors and machines that fill the room, but Robby smiles at it. Gentle. Soft. A man who recognises how precious this moment is and wants to bottle it up to carry with him forever. 

“Hi”

Robby’s voice is similarly quiet but where there is a quiet confidence in yours, there’s a hint of anxiety and unsure energy mixed in his. You motion your head to the side, towards the visitors chair you had been sitting in earlier that now lay at the side of the bed closest to Isaac. He hesitates for just a moment, your eyebrow raising slightly as your smile widens. You had never seen the man so unsure in the hospital. Then he sits, pulling up close to the bed where he now leans his forearms against the guard rails. 

There’s silence for a moment, the echo of heart beats through monitors surrounding you both. Then Isaac turns to him, hand reaching out gently cupping his jaw as he stares at Robby intently. Then there’s a wide smile on his face, a giggle passing through his lips.

“You have the same eyes as me! Mom likes to call the gold flakes little starbursts.”

Something catches in Robby’s throat at the contact, emotion welling inside him and rising to the surface once again. Under the dimmed down lights, you think you can see tears starting to well in his eyes as his adams apple bobs. His hand reaches up to softly cup Isaac’s, gentle. Feather-light, barely touching him at all. 

“Yeah buddy I do.”

Robby’s voice is softer now, a quiet kind of reverence for the life in front of him leaking through. It's the same voice you had after giving birth and Isaac was set against your chest. A parent, falling in love with their child in a single moment. Robby’s eyes flash to yours, filled with sadness and grief but also love and gratitude for this moment. He is all too aware that you could have told him no, but you didn’t and hope bloomed in his bones. 

“Isaac,” Your voice is soft as you call to your son, and he turns to you with a quizzical look as his hand drops from Robby. There’s unnamed emotions in your voice, a combination of fear and anxiety and hope all merging into one.

“Yeah mom?”

Anxiety fills you, causes your fingers to shake as you dog ear your book and set it to the side, one hand reaches out to gently brush at Isaac’s hair more a comfort for you than him.

“You remember how, when you asked me about your dad, I told you he was a very good doctor that I knew a long time ago? Who had starbursts in his eyes and goodness in his veins?” 

Isaac nods his head, head now laying down against the pillow where he can dart his eyes between you and Robby. You can see the wheels turning in his head, connections starting to form, he was a very intelligent child afterall. 

“Well…” Your voice catches in your throat and you have to clear it gently before you continue, “This is Michael, he’s your dad.”

Isaac’s eyes bulge slightly, realisation settling into place. Then there’s a frown on his face, one that is exactly like Robby’s and you gently trail your hand down from his hair and too Isaac’s cheek where your knuckles rub softly against the skin in soothing motions. There’s silence again, not tense. But anticipatory. A spark not yet meeting a flame. 

Isaac’s eyes move to Robby’s, tears starting to fill in the waterline, his voice shaky and breaking as he talks, and yours and Robby’s heart break at the sound.

“Why weren’t you there?”

You instantly curl around Isaac more, pulling his head into your chest once again as the tears start to fall, one hand threading through his hair to rub gently at his scalp while the other rubs soft soothing circles in his shoulder.

“Oh baby…” 

Concern laces your voice, as soft whimpers leave Isaac. Robby is shell shocked for just a moment, frozen in time as the question settles against his skin and his mind races for an answer. Then instinct takes over, a hand reaching out to Isaacs where he gently threads their fingers together, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. He expects Isaac to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead his small fingers tighten against Robby’s hand. Then there’s a breath, a single heart beat, before Robby speaks.

“Oh buddy…I,” He clears his throat, his own tears now starting to slowly fall and streak his face in lines of salt, the cinder block on his chest cracks again. Debris falling and allowing him to breath fully for the first time all shift “I didn’t know.”

Robby’s eyes snap to your momentarily, not in blame or accusation, but a look of I’m going to try my best to handle this. 

“I wasn’t very nice to your mom before we split up, so she moved away to keep you and her safe.”

Isaac nods into your chest, seemingly happy to accept the answer. The tears have stopped flowing, though the lines still streak his face, and you gently rub them off the skin. Isaac squirms away from the action, pulling the two of you apart and you let out a chuckle, it seems you had run out of your allotted affection time for the day. But he keeps his hand in Robby's. 

“Do you wanna know how I broke my foot?”

There’s joy lacing the words, the kind that only a child could have when telling the story of an injury. To them, they were battle scars. Tales to be told around the playground and friends to show how tough they are. It makes you laugh, full, unrestrained, head thrown back slightly as you sit up and get off the bed. 

You place a kiss on Isaac's forehead, eyes darting to Robby’s for a second, soft smile now a little less guarded than it was before. “I’m gonna go get a coffee, do you want one?”

He looks at you, recognising you’re giving him a moment alone with Isaac, a huge step. One he doesn’t know if he’s ready for, but it will only be for a few moments, so he nods. 

“Can I have a soda?”

You turn to Isaac and scrunch up your nose, squeezing his cheeks playfully as you shake your head, “You’re not allowed one until after your surgery bug, doctors orders”

He grumples, looking to Robby for a bit of back-up but Robby shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, “No buddy, you need to wait.”

Isaac huffs, arms crossing over his chest as you walk out of the room. But it doesn’t last long, you can hear him start the story of how broke his foot as the door slides closed behind you. 

Robby is immediately enamoured with the story, the lilt of Isaac’s voice as he excitedly tells him about the trick he was trying to do on the jungle gym in the park. Something he had seen a gymnast do on TV that was relatively easy in theory, harder in execution. He couldn’t help but smile as Isaac babbled on about how he had gotten this close (fingers pinching together until there was barely any room between them) but slipped at the last minute. 

He promised him he would watch the video you had taken of it before it went wrong to see how well he did. As Isaac speaks, his hand falls away from Robby’s and he mourns the warmth for a moment. The physical connection fizzled against his skin almost like a brand, one he was proud to have. Robby leans a little further forward, elbow now leaning against the guard rail as he uses his palm to support his chin. He smiles at the wide grin on Isaac’s face as he proudly proclaims he's going to try again once his leg is better.

One story turns to another, this time about how he took a dive at the pool and the water went up his nose and made his brain feel fuzzy, and then another and another. Snippets of Isaac’s life slipping out as though it’s as easy as breathing. Grief and sadness wedges itself between Robby’s ribs for having missed the moments, there’s guilt there too. An internal reckoning of how he treated you and that led to this. He promised himself he would do better this time. 

As you watch Robby and Isaac from behind the door, a decent distance away to stop them from opening, with a warm smile on your face you feel a bump against your hip. You already know who it is before even looking and you bump back against him as his chuckle fills your ears.

“It’s good to see you kid”

You turn your head and smile at Jack, warm. Friendly. 

“Good to see you too Jack.”

He glances back through the glass doors of peds, eyes carefully watching Robby as he laughs at whatever absurd story Isaac is now telling him. His head is thrown back, his hand clutching his chest. Without even hearing it, you and Jack can both tell it's one of those unrestrained belly laughs that he only lets out when he’s fully relaxed.

There’s a moment of silence as you both stand there watching, the coffee in your hands warming you up and reminding you that you need to go back in. A deep breath, a settling feeling of peace and acceptance lodging itself in between your ribs.  

“He’s gonna be a good dad to that kid.”

You don’t question Jack on how he knows, figure he put the pieces together from Isaac’s birthdate and how he now acted with Robby. He also just had a way of knowing things, maybe it was the veteran in him, always observing and watching. Pattern recognition and things like that kicking in until puzzle pieces fit perfectly into place. 

Then you surprise yourself, the thought almost intrusive as it spills out of you before you can think, “Yeah, he is.”

Then you're slipping away from Jack, heading back into peds with a smile on your face. It’s then that Jack is joined by Ellis, arms crossed against her chest and eyes watching you disappear. “So…”

Jack raises an eyebrow as he turns away from the door and heads towards the nurses desk where his charting awaits him, she walks in step beside him.

“Who was that?”

Then there’s a small, conspiratorial smile on Jack's face. Mischief lacing every feature and his voice drops low, almost teasing.

“Just Robby’s ex-wife.”

Then he walks away to go see a patient, calm. Casual. As if he didn’t just drop a bombshell in the middle of the emergency room that left Ellis with her jaw on the floor. 

The doors of the peds bay slide to a close behind you, and you can’t help but smile at the wide grin stretching across Isaac’s lips. For a boy who was fighting to stay awake only 15 minutes earlier, he’s now full of life and a new found energy. You never ceased to wonder where he found it. 

You try and approach softly, but the heels of your shoes echo softly around the room. You cringe slightly at the sound, eyes scanning the faces of the other sleeping children and parents to make sure you don’t disturb any of them. Instead of going back to sitting on the bed beside Isaac, you stand beside Robby. Just close enough to feel the fabric of his scrubs rub against your jeans and the heat that radiates from his body. 

He looks up at you, eyes mystified and in awe of your son. Full of softness and warmth, guilt bubbled between your ribs. It’s a feeling you’ve felt before, many times, especially at night where your thoughts spiral and you lose yourself in questions of what if? It sits uncomfortably, like clawed hands reaching their way through your chest and holding onto your heart. Not squeezing, but letting you know it’s there. 

A soft ‘thanks’ passes through Robby’s lips, quiet like a whisper into the night, as you hand him the cup of coffee. Your fingers brush his, a micro touch more than anything but it still fizzles against your skin. Heat spreads through them, like you had touched a candle flame. Hot enough to feel and burn, but not enough to leave a permanent mark. 

There’s a hitch in breath, both yours and Robby’s, and his hand is slow to move away. As if he craves the contact but knows it's dangerous to ask for any more. You can see the tightening in his shoulders, the way his pinky twitches against the edge of the cardboard cup as if he’s holding himself back. You clear your throat before going to respond, an attempt to break the small amount of tension now building, but the sound of the door and hushed voices as they approach stop you.

You glance to the door, recognising the orthopedic surgeon as they stop at the bottom of the bed. There’s a brief smile from them, then a look of confusion as they see Robby sitting beside you. He smiles at them. Small, contained. Like he’s holding on to something precious that’s about to be revealed to the world. 

“Doctor Robinavitch, I didn’t realise you were consulting on this case.”

A deep breath from Robby, realisation settling into his bones that this is real. He had obviously known it was real before, you had confirmed it for him. It had settled in his heart and his mind that this was his son, but he hadn’t spoken it aloud to anyone else yet. Another crack in the cinderblock on his chest as he clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’m not…” 

He glances at you, a micro beat, seeking both reassurance and permission which you give with a stiff nod. He notices the hesitation, the way your shoulders tighten just a micro fraction and how your grip now crinkles in the sides of the coffee cup, files it away for later discussion, and accepts the motion. He clears his throat again, eyes casting over to Isaac who’s once again trying to fight sleep. His smile instantly softens, the hand he had on the guard rails reaching for Isaacs where he softly holds it.

“He’s my son.” 

There’s a look of shock on the surgeon, and the nursing team's face (their eyes glancing towards one another in silent conversation) but it quickly passes. A softness spreads across their faces now, bed side manner kicking in as the surgeon clears their throat. 

“Okay. Well, we’re ready to bring Isaac up to surgery now.” 

You nod to her words, drawing your arms tight around you as if they can shield you from the hurt a botched surgery might cause. From the anxiety once again welling in your stomach and forcing its way through your veins. Heavy vines rooted in your heart and spreading until they entangle your feet to the floor. You can’t speak, afraid of the emotion that will spill out. 

Robby notices the way your shoulders tense again. Almost spring loaded and ready to burst through your skin, the rise and fall of your chest as your breath starts to quicken. He wants to reach out to you, hold your hand in his and soothe you. Wants to tell you it will be okay, the surgeon knows what they’re doing. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands next to you. Hand hovering at the middle of your back, not touching but you can still feel the heat. The ghost of his fingers as they brush against your top. 

“We’ll have you in the OR waiting room during the surgery and then when he’s awake a member of the team will take you to his room, it will be in the in-patient pediatric ward.”

Her voice is soft, a small comfort to the anxiety, and her eyes are warm. Confident. This is a routine surgery and it will be okay, but it's hard to quell the anxiety once it’s taken root. You nod again, feet finally ungluing from where they are on the floor as you step pass Robby and up to Isaac.

A soft kiss pressed to his forehead, a hand running through his hair that he scrunches his nose up at. You smile softly at him, “The doctors are gonna take you to fix your foot now bug.”

He nods, eyes barely open as he takes in your words. 

“Will you be there when I wake up?” 

Another kiss, a sacred promise against his skin.

“Of course I will.”

He looks past you now, eyes on Robby as he stands just a bit away from you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Will Michael be there?”

Robby’s heart stutters at the use of his name, not dad. But he supposed he didn’t deserve that title just yet. He takes a step forward, hand replacing yours to card from Isaac’s hair.

“If you want me there buddy.”

Isaac nods, eyes finally losing their battle with sleep and you and Robby take a step back as the nurses move in to prepare Isaac for transport up to the OR floor. You can’t speak again, heart hammering in your throat and stopping any words from forming, so Robby takes over.

“I’ll take her to the waiting room.”

A nod from the surgeon, a gentle pat on your shoulder, and then they were gone. 

Robby goes to touch you again, hand hovering at your elbow so close that you can feel it bump against you when you turn to watch the gurney leave. It sends heat through your close and into your skin, burns in a way that isn’t entirely unwelcome. Then there’s a hesitation, a few seconds where he thinks he might be better leaving it. Then a gentle touch, barely felt at all. Fingers light against your skin, like a whisper among the trees. It’s grounding. Steadying. A hand reaching out in the dark to lead you into the light. You lean into it, just a fraction.

“Come on, we should go to the waiting room.”

Robby’s voice is soft, but it still breaks through the anxiety fog in your mind. A stiff nod. Your body moves robotically as you grab your bag and book from the side of the bed, then you’re standing close to Robby again silently hoping he’ll reach out and guide you. He does. 

His hand’s a little firmer now, arm wrapping around your back gripping your arm, a small bubble of protection if you were to fall. A deep breath, a steadying heart beat, a lean into the touch, Robby's arm tightening just a fraction, and you’re ready to move. Softly, without words, he guides you through the doors and through the ED, stopping only momentarily to have a hushed conversation with Jack. 

You could have heard it, if you were listening, but the blood rushing in your ears made it hard to focus. You could just about hear the pulse of monitors, the rush of paramedics as the wheel in someone new and voices of patients as they shouted across the room. Then you’re moving again, Jack clapping Robby's back and offering you a smile as you walk away. The ride in the elevator up to the peds floor is silent, Robby’s arm is still around you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your bicep and you welcome the pressure. You have to stop yourself from leaning your head against his shoulder. Instead, decide to lean back against the cool metal of the wall behind you. There’s a small ‘thump’ as you do but there’s no pain. Just the sensation of cold pressure sinking into your scalp. It feels nice. 

Quickly, far too quickly for your liking, the doors slide open and Robby is once again leading you through winding halls and corridors. You really should take a mental note of where you’re going so you can get out of here easier once Isaac’s been discharged, but you can’t right now. Then you’re sitting down on a chair in the corner of what you assume is the waiting room. 

It’s in the far corner, with a little coffee table littered with magazines and comic books. There’s a box beside it, filled with toys and colouring books and crayons. You suppose it’s to keep the kids occupied while they wait. There's few others about, which isn’t surprising given it’s after 8pm and visiting hours are over, a few people linger. Talking to nurses and doctors in hushed tones with worried voices and faces. You can’t look at them. 

Robby disappears for a few seconds, telling you he’ll be back in a second, so you sink down into the chair. It’s nicer than the ones in the waiting room in the ER, cushioned and soft with a bit of extra room for you to lean back comfortably or to sit with your legs up. It’s not individual chairs either, but a row of three or four before it divides into a new row. Something in your mind registers that there’s enough room for someone to lie down and sleep if they need to.

Then Robby’s back, his hand brushing yours lightly as he hands you a fresh coffee and for the first time you realise you had both left the other ones downstairs. You offer a soft thanks, adjusting yourself to draw your knees up under you and turning to face Robby as he sits in the second seat down from you. Close enough that he can hear you, far enough away that he’s not intruding in your space.

Silence spreads. Thick. Heavy with unasked and unanswered questions. You can see them brewing behind his eyes, in the way he stares at the ground and scrunches his eyebrows up. In how he’s holding onto the coffee cup so tightly you’re surprised it doesn’t spill over and burn him. 

“Ask them.”

Your voice is soft as you bring the coffee to your lips. It’s hot and bitter and jolts your nerves just a little, replacing anxiety jitters with caffeine instead. He looks at you, eyes softer now but confusion and pain still lingers along the edges. Reflected back to you in the golden specs as the dim fluorescents shine on them. Robby shakes his head, looks back to the floor.

“It’s not the time.”

You snort a little, eyes rolling almost playfully, “It’s the perfect time. Surgery’s gonna be what 2 hours? Then it will take Isaac a while to wake up. Besides, I need a distraction.”

A small smile, then Robby’s leaning back and crossing one arm across his chest. Another sigh as he gathers his thoughts, you’re pretty sure you can see the gears turning in his head, hear them clunk into place. He turns to you then, arms unfolding and instead spreading against the back of the chairs. It’s open. Comfortable. Much more than you expected from him.

“Did you know when it was finalized?"

A loaded question, one that could make or break the foundations you had just started to build. But a simple answer

“No.”

He nods, “When did you find out?”

You take another sip of coffee, another deep breath and you make sure you’re maintaining eye contact. 

“About a week after I settled in Nevada”

Another nod, you can see some of the stress leak out of him at that. His shoulders softened, his grip on the coffee loosening, another deep breath. Robby didn’t think you would have kept it from him if you had known at that point, but some part of him still needed to check.

“Is that where you’ve been the whole time?”

You shake your head and push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Not the whole time, no. We lived there for a few years and then I got a promotion just before covid hit and transferred to the New York office. We lived in Greenwich until moving back here.”

He pauses then, you had only been a train ride or a 6 hour drive away. So close to him, yet so far. A breath rattles out of him, uncontained. Uncontrolled. He didn’t mean it, and he can see the way you cast your eyes down to the ground before meeting his again.

Another silence, prickly. Tension filled. A heavy weight on your chest as he asks another question. A deep breath from Robby, your eyes casting down into the coffee cup in your hands as if it held the answers to the universe. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

A pause, your heart beat picking up once again. You knew the question was coming, had anticipated it in the back of your mind but it still filled you with dread. 

“Yes.”

It’s soft, almost a whisper. Robby barely hears it and has to lean a little closer to make sure he heard it right. There’s a crack in your voice as well, the words having to fight their way up your throat. It wasn’t pain stopping them from coming, but guilt. Another deep breath, a clearing of your throat. You meet his eyes again.

“We only got back into the city a week ago, when we arrived I reached out to Dana and Jack on facebook to get your number because I didn’t have it after changing mine after the divorce. But you know what those two are like, I would either get a reply in a minute or a month and this morning they hadn’t even looked at the messages.”

Another nod from Robby, his free hand reaching up to rub at his face before he takes a sip of his coffee. It's cooled down a little, but the heat of it still melts a little part inside of him. That part that wanted to scream and shout and cast blame. But that melts away, thawing and giving space for recognition that you both fucked up but now was the chance to fix it. 

He looks to you again, the pains still there but the confusions gone. Replaced with the hope of new beginnings, that look starts to crack at the shield you had built around your heart. 

“Where do we go from here?”

Robby’s voice is soft, a whisper. A man quietly begging to be let in, and ready to show he deserves it.

A sigh from you, another glance to the coffee cup, “That depends on you and Isaac.”

You look up at him again, see his finger twitching against the edge of the seat. His eyes darting not only to your eyes but across your face, looking for little micro signs of deception. But there are none, for the first time all night you’re unguarded. Softed. Willing to let him in and work on this.

“As long as Isaac wants to see you, you can.”

Robby nods to that, “Of course.”

“But,” You take a pause, a deep breath, eyes meeting his with the sternness only a mother can have, “I need to see you trying. You need to be there and show up, and I don’t mean for every little thing that’s a lot to put on you with your schedule. But I need to see you making an effort.”

You clear your throat, ready to go to war to get peace, “If we set up times for you to meet, I expect them to be adhered to. If something comes in that is unavoidable and you need to stay, then I need to know. Clear, consistent communication. We go off our schedule, not yours. You can’t just randomly show up and expect access, not at first anyway.”

Robby nods along to your words, cataloging every detail and filing them away.

“All medical and schooling decisions are mine, I’ll ask for your input but the final decision comes from me. At least for the first few months, and then we can re-evaluate. You can be alone with him, take him out and do things with him, but I want to know when and where.” 

Another deep breath from both you and Robby, “And then for at least the first few weeks, especially as he’s healing, you come to my house and I supervise.” 

You clear your throat, words bubbling up before you can catch them, “I don’t want him getting close to you only to have you disappear on him.” 

Robby flinches back at that, just a little, it’s cold. But honest. You had known him as a man who ran away into his work, but he couldn’t do that here. It wasn’t just you he would be letting down, it would be Isaac. And you loved your son too much to let him go through that pain, and maybe some part of you didn’t want to go through it again either. 

Robby clears his throat but nods, stiff but accepting. “Okay, those are reasonable”

He shuffles forward slightly, just a little, his knee bumping into yours slightly as he does, “I’ll make sure you get a copy of every one of my schedules. If there’s no need for me to stay, or come in for overtime, and we have plans then I will stick to those plans. If something does, you’ll be the first person I call. If I’m busy, I’ll get Dana to reach out.”

He stretches his hand out to you now, open and willing. You can see the way his breath catches, how there's a slight tremor in his hands, as you reach out as well. You clasp your hand in his, the heat of it burning like a brand against your skin, and you shake.

“Then we’ll re-evaluate in a few months.”

A nod from Robby, his hand dropping from yours. Then you both take a sip from your coffee. 

After that, numbers are exchanged and schedules are discussed. Obviously with Isaac having to be in a cast for the next 6-8 weeks, and then potentially a boot, it throws your whole summer for a loop. But you let him know he usually plays baseball on the weekends, you were currently looking for a team for him to join because he loved the sport. 

Every Tuesday was taco night, and Robby could join you for the next one when Isaac was out of hospital. You tell Robby how he loves cars and motocross and F1 and how sometimes, when he had been really good or did something well in school, you would let him stay up late to watch the races. Robby tells you he’s been working on restoring an old motorcycle, and maybe Isaac can help. 

You tell him Isaac’s favourite subjects in school, science and history, and how you had once found him trying to collect frogs so he could see their life cycle in person (that made him laugh). How he loved to read, Percy Jackson was his favourite at the minute but he still wanted you to read The Golden Compass to him at bed despite having read the whole series three times that year already. 

You also let him know that while you don’t practise Judaism, you still teach him about it and its history. Every holiday season, you do a joint Christmas and Hanukkah celebration, and how Isaac loved lighting the menorah with you. You think you can see a rattle in his chest at that, despite not being there you had kept parts of him alive in your traditions with Isaac. 

On your phone, you show him videos you had taken. The one from today and the accident being the first, because Isaac had wanted him to see it. Though Robby flinches when he sees Isaac coming down, he comments on how brave he is. 

Then you go further back, baby photos and videos. First steps and first words. You don’t miss the way Robby’s eyes mist up at that, guilt stabs at your heart but you shove it down. There’s no longer any time to wonder about the what-if’s in your mind. 

In the process, Robby has gotten closer. Your legs are now over the chair, feet planted firmly in the ground, Robby is right beside you. Shoulder and tight pressing against yours, the heat searing your skin and causing you to lose focus half-way through sentences. 

Eventually, you move on to conversations about yourselves. About work and family, he asks about your parents and siblings, you tell him you're an aunty now and show him photos of nieces and nephews. You joke about bad habits of Jack and Dana that they still do to this day and you remember just how easy it was to talk to Robby. 

Then the conversation dies off, it's nearing ten pm. The waiting room is empty now, except for you and Robby. But the quiet is comforting now, wrapping around you like a blanket. The world stops for just a moment to breathe with you, to welcome in this new beginning. 

Your name is called, Robby’s called almost immediately after it and you make a mental note to update Isaac’s medical and school records to have Robby on as a parent. 

When you meet the surgeon near the front, they smile at you, and all the anxiety you had felt before burns from your veins. The vines that had constricted your heart down in the ER, burst and melt to the floor leaving relief in its wake. 

“Surgery went really well.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, chest falling as the weight of worry drops from your shoulders. From the corner of your eye, you can see how Robby’s shoulders soften as he takes a deep breath in.

“There are a few things you’ll need to know once he’s discharged, but that can be spoken about in the morning. We’re gonna keep him overnight for observation and to make sure there’s no complications from the sedation, but you should be good to go tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod your head, offering a small ‘thank you’ and shaking the surgeon's hand. Then they’re telling you what room he’s in before disappearing again. Robby’s hand reaches out to you, a slight tremble in his fingers as does, it wraps around your back and pulls you in close to his chest and you let him. Then finally, you fall apart. 

The tears you had been holding back since the accident finally fall. Hard. Heavy. Ugly. Sobs you can’t choke down claw their way out of your throat, echo around the empty room so loud it almost feels like you’re drowning in the sound. There’s a heart beat echoing in your ears, you can’t tell if it's yours or the ghost of the monitor Isaac was on earlier in the day. 

There’s a hand, Robby’s, rubbing soft circles into your back. Gently at first, then harder. The pressure working out the knots that had formed over the hours in the ER, while also bringing comfort. You hear a whisper, barely, but you can’t make out what’s actually being said. Then it’s slightly louder, the familiar deep timber breaking through the echo of tears and heartbeats.

“It’s okay, he’s okay.”

It’s shaky. Soft. A band aid being placed over a wound to stop the bleeding. Someone who is trying to convince themselves as much as they’re trying to convince you. 

A deep breath, though you’re not sure if it's you or Robby that takes it - maybe it was both. Chests rattling together, heart rates slowing down and beating in sync. You stay in Robby’s arm for another minute, letting the tears dry up until all that’s left is lines of salt and red rimmed eyes. Then you step back, hands swiping at your face to try and clear the evidence before going to see Isaac.

Robby doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have too. He had seen it before, parents at their strongest when their kids were around and at their weakest when they found out they were okay. He understood. 

You offer him a ‘thank you’, a whisper beneath your breath and he simply nods and says “Of course.”

Then his hand is reaching out for yours again, tentative. Asking permission. You give it, reaching out and taking it in your own. He gives a small, reassuring squeeze, and then he’s leading you through winding corridors again until you reach Isaac’s room. 

The lights are dim and the moon is now high up in the sky, sending twinkling shards of silver through the blinds. A halo of light dancing around the bed where Isaac now lay. His leg was now in a half-cast, still elevated above the bed. His eyes were open, just barely, blinking languidly as he rubs at them and tries to fight off sleep again. Beside the bed, are two arm chairs and on the other is a travel cot. 

You rush to his side, dropping Robby’s hand and taking Isaac’s instead. 

“Hi bug”

A quick kiss pressed to his forehead, your other hand carding through his hair as he offers a sleepy smile. 

“Hi mamma”

Tears prick your eyes, it had been a few years since he had called you mamma and it tugged at all the right heart strings. His eyes move from you, to Robby who stood at the bottom of the bed and was currently reading through the chart. 

“Hi Michael.”

The soft sound of Isaac’s voice pulls Robby away from the chart, he slots it back into place at the end of the bed and smiles gently at Isaac as he takes steps to stand beside you.

“Hey buddy, how you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

You tilt your head at Isaac’s words as Robby lets a small chuckle pass through his lips, your hand releases Isaac’s and Robby’s takes its place. It was a relief to you both to know he’s not feeling any pain. 

Another kiss to Isaac forehead, a soft look and a gentle smile, “You can go to sleep bug”

A soft nod, Isaac’s eyelashes fluttering against his cheek like the flitting of a butterfly wing as it lands on a flower, “Will you both be here when I wake up?”

You glance to Robby, an eyebrow raised in a tentative question, then there's a small nod from Robby as he gives Isaac’s hand a small squeeze.

“Yeah buddy, we’ll be there.”

Another small nod from Isaac. 

“‘Kay, love you mamma. Goodnight Michael”

Then he was asleep. Eyes fluttering closed as his chest rises and falls, the steady beep of his heart on the monitor an echo of safety and reminder that he’s okay. You take a step back, eyes still on Isaac. On the way his chest rises and falls, the little twitch of his eye and fingers as he sleeps. His eyebrow scrunching up just a little as he drifts into dreamland.

“You should sleep.”

Robby’s voice pulls you back to him, eyes glancing over to find him already looking at you with arms crossed softly over his chest. His eyes are warm and soft, but alert. Years of staying late at work and countless hours of overtime making him more immune to the effects of fatigue. 

You are starting to falter, exhaustion settling into your bones and you blink slowly. Almost cat-like. Eyelids feeling like concrete, making every blink harder and harder. The adrenaline that had fueled your body and kept you awake for the last few hours, finally crashed around you and even lifting your arm to brush at stray hairs was a feat.

“Do you not have to go back down stairs in the morning?”

Your voice is soft, a whisper so as to not wake Isaac. Robby shakes his head, looks to the ground for a second, then back to you.

“Jack’s gonna stay”

Then you remember the whispered conversation, the hushed voices and words you couldn’t quite hear before coming up to the pediatric floor. A promise kept planting a seed of hope in the deep recesses of your ribs. For the first time, since before you got married, Robby was keeping his promise and he was staying. The ghost had become a man once more. 

You nod your head softly, “Wake me in a few hours so you can get some sleep too.” 

Robby nods, but doesn’t promise anything, and as soon as your head hits the pillow of the travel cot you drift off. 

When you wake up, there's a soft morning glow filtering through the window. Pillars of golden light illuminate the room, streak it in a kaleidoscope of colours and warmth that radiates against your back. You can hear the hum of machines, the beeping of a heart monitor. There’s soft, whispered voices that filter in. Soft giggles and warm chuckles fill your ear, warms your soul like melts away fear. You hear the click of the wheels from a toy car as it glides against the guard rails of the bed, the sound of a child imitating a motor as they babble on about the type of car and the details of an F1 race it had been featured in. 

You can smell fresh coffee, bitter and invigorating in the early hours, and the slight stinging scent of antiseptic and hand sanitizer. You scrunch your nose up at the scent, flutter your eye lashes as the soft light filters through your blurry morning gaze. After a few seconds shapes start to form.

The metal siding of the bed. The slope and curve of the bed as the top that’s now propped up. The dark unruly mop of hair belonging to Isaac, he’s facing away from you but his shoulders are relaxed and you can see his shoulders shake with giddiness. You can see his arms moving, one dragging one of his toy ferraris over the bed rail, the other is gesturing close to his chest as he excitedly explains something to Robby. 

You can’t see him fully, just the shape of his legs from the other side of the bed and his hands. You can only assume he’s sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. You take a few moments to come back into your body, feel the scratchyness of your jeans and the stiffness of your joints. The tangled metal of an old chain resting against your chest, the pendant pressing into your cheek from where it moved in your sleep. Then you rise. 

Careful. Slow. Quiet so as to not disturb the moment.  Sitting up in the bed, your legs crossed, you can fully take in the scene before you. As you expected, Robby is sitting leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. There’s a wide, unrestrained smile on his face. His teeth reflecting the soft golden glow of the sun. His shoulders are loose and there’s a calm certainty in the air around him you hadn’t seen the night before. A man ready to accept all the responsibilities that came with becoming a parent. 

There’s a hitch in your breath, a rattling of your lungs and your heart and the little seed of hope that it planted itself beneath your ribs starts to bloom just a little. You smile at the scene, soft. Warm. Some broken part of you knitting itself back together in your soul. 

You watch for a few minutes, Robby completely enraptured as Isaac details the latest F1 race you had let him watch. He nods along as Isaac talks, and laughs along with son when he lets out a giggle, you can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s talking about (but then again you don’t really understand the racing talk either) but he’s still there. Engaged. Present. 

Robby notices you’re awake before Isaac does, the sun glinting off your necklace as you adjust it back into place and reflecting right into his eyes. He zeros in on it almost immediately. It’s a simple chain, a little weathered but still in good condition, and the pendant is a sun with your birthstone sitting in the dead center. It catches him off guard and he has to double check that he’s actually seeing it right. 

It was a necklace he had gotten you, on your second anniversary. When you were together, you rarely took it off and even planned other jewellery and outfits around it. An unknown feeling takes hold of his heart then, a gentle squeeze, not paralysing or damaging but just…there. It doesn’t know what it is, but it feels oddly similar to how he felt when he saw you walking down the aisle. 

“Look buddy, moms awake.”

Isaac’s head whips round so hard you flinch slightly in fear he hurt himself, but he’s smiling. Eyes full of nothing but the type of joy that only children can embody. 

“Mom!”

You laugh lightly at his excitement, the happiness infectious and spreading through your body.

“Good morning bug, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay! My leg was sore but the nice nurse came in and gave me some medicine to make me feel better.”

“That’s good baby.”

You stretch your arms over your head, shoulders and elbows popping as you do and you can feel all your vertebra realign. You look to Robby now, smiling softly at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought I told you to wake me?”

He chuckles slightly, head shaking as he looks to the ground and then back to you.

“You never specified how many hours and I didn’t promise anything”

There’s a roll of your eyes, a huff from your lips as your arms fall back down and you cross them over your chest. Almost childlike and playful.

“That’s not fair, you need to sleep as well.”

Robby laughs now, head thrown back slightly. It makes you feel fuzzy. Warm. The deep timbre of it slipping down your spine like honey, saccharine sweet and delicious. You try and shake the feeling, but it lingers in your spine. 

“I’m fine, it’s not my first time being up 24 hours or longer.”

Another roll of your eyes, a finger pointed towards Robby almost accusingly. 

“Still, you should have woken me up. What time is it anyway?”

You see Isaac look to the clock hanging on the wall opposite the bed, eyes squinting slightly as he goes to read it. You and Robby give him the time and space to do so.

“Six…fourty five”

You glance to clock yourself and smile at Isaac, he had been struggling with reading the clock at his old school and pride swells inside of you. 

“Well done bug.”

Isaac beams at you, prideful and happy that he had gotten it right. You can see how Robby’s smile transforms, pride at the tips and the curve of his lips. 

Then there’s a knock at the door, and you look at it quizzically as does Robby. Both of you recognise it’s too early for the doctor to come and discuss the healing and discharge process.

“Come in”

Your voice is soft, but still loud enough that it can be heard through the wooden door. As it opens, a smile breaks out onto your face as Dana takes a step in. You had seen her the day before in the ER, but hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her. She smiles back at you, eyes warm and welcoming and her arms immediately open as you step up from the bed. When you wrap your arms around her shoulders, she pulls you tight against her chest and squeezes your shoulders gently. 

“Hey kid, you look good.” 

Her voice is low, a whisper right against your ear. But the tone is warm, a lacing of I missed you hidden among the words. You had missed her too. You often joked that she was your favourite in the friend circle, much to Jack and Robby playful resentment. But it was only half-way true. She was your favourite and while you didn’t keep in touch after the divorce, you still kept an eye on her social media and sent her a message every birthday and holiday, even sending gifts for major celebrations. 

“Thanks, you too.”

When you pull back she’s still smiling at you, one hand squeezing your shoulders again and smiles at Isaac on the bed. Robby reaches his own hand up and squeezes back, a sign he’s okay, before dropping it back down.

“Who’s this mom?”

There’s a brief look of confusion on Isaac’s face, you had just embraced a stranger to him after all, but it quickly changes to a look of interest. Dana was also obviously important to you.

“This is Dana, she’s an old friend of mine and your dads.” 

You both move towards the bed, you pushing the cot to the side so you can stand instead while Dana stands beside Robby. She places a hand on his shoulder, gives a gentle squeeze.

“Hi Dana, are you a nurse?”

“I am little man. I’m the one in charge of everything downstairs.”

Isaac’s eyebrows scrunch up a little, confusion taking over his face, “But I thought Michael was in charge?”

You all laugh at the question.

“He just likes to pretend he is.”

You chuckle again at Dana’s voice, eyes darting between Robby and Dana with a look of mischief in your eyes.

“Dana really runs the show and everyone likes her better anyway.”

Dana laughs at that, as does Isaac, and Robby gives a look of faux offense as he pressed his hand into his heart.

“You wound me.”

Then there's laughing again, Isaac joining and as he realises you were just teasing. You meet Robby’s eyes and he glares lightly, but there’s no malice there. Just a quiet friendliness and joy you didn’t realise you had missed. You smile softly and quickly look away to Dana, taking a steadying breath as you do. 

“I just wanted to come see if you guys need anything before I start my shift.”

You eye the bedside cabinet briefly, noticing an empty cup of coffee, before looking back to Dana.

“Some coffee and a soda for Isaac would be great.”

You immediately notice how Isaac perks up, soda was always a treat for him.

“I can have a soda?”

You nod softly, “Once we talk to the doctor again you can have it.”

He looks to Robby now, who nods in agreement with your decision. He beams, smile wide and almost blinding. Excitement bubbles through him, to the point that he’s almost vibrating and you roll your eyes lightly at the energy while Robby chuckles. 

“Coffee and a soda, got it.”

Dana steps away from Robby, and you move with her, pulling her into another hug before she leaves.

“Thank you for checking in.”

Another squeeze of your shoulder before Dana pulls away, and another whisper. 

“It takes a village kid, just know you always got one here.”

Then she’s gone. The sound of clicking hospital bed wheels and the shuffle of feet, voices muffled behind doors and hushed conversations with doctors filter in briefly as the door opens. When it closes, there's silence again. Warm and light with the rays of the sun. The arms of the universe wrapping you in a protective cocoon, if just for a moment. Your eyes meet Robby's again, just for a brief moment, but it’s all you need. 

They’re steady, reassuring. Full of light and love and emotions you would rather not name right now. But they’re there. He stayed and that was all you needed in that moment. 

A few minutes later, a younger nurse that Robby introduces to you as Mataeo arrives with the coffee and soda, letting you know that Dana got called in with a patient as soon as she arrived on the ER floor. You both thank him, and Isaac smiles wide at him as Mataeo tells him his cars are cool and then he’s gone again.

The smell of fresh coffee as the steam rises from the cups finally cuts through the smell of antiseptic and sterility that came with hospital rooms and the heat spreads from your hands and up your arms, settling into your chest. You take a seat next to Robby, smiling softly as Isaac starts asking him about his job. 

He explains it in child friendly terms and you can see Isaac’s eyes light up. He was a lover of science and asked so many questions that you giggled lightly at the overwhelmed look that over takes Robby. You choke a little on your coffee when you go to take a sip of it only for Isaac to turn round and ask, “have you seen a dead body?”

The question was out of left-field and was asked with such sweetness and innocent curiosity that it catches you both off guard. Robby goes to answer, but then the door opens and the surgeon walks into the room with a smile on their face. 

You’re still choking when they walk in, hand hitting your chest a little to dry and dislodge the feeling and they give you a look of concern. As does Robby as he reaches over and gives a small hit to your back. Finally, it clears and the only evidence is the watering of your tear line. 

“I’m okay.”

You smile now, fully turning to greet the surgeon now. Their face changes again, a ghost of a smile tugging at the sides of their lips as they stand at the bottom of the bed. Pleasantries are explained, Isaac’s asked how he’s feeling and the surgeon listens closely and the ghost of a smile turns into a full smile when he lets them know that he’s doing good. 

Quickly, the conversation changes to discharge and healing and the surgeon explains that they usually like to monitor for 24-48 hours to make sure swellings going down properly but Isaac’s swelling was reducing pretty quickly and if the pattern continues you would be out by the afternoon. 

As the surgeon talks, you flit your eyes between them and Isaac, who’s busied himself with the toys on the bed again. Robby has reached a hand out over the back of your chair as he leans back, eyes kept on them while his fingers gently trailed against your shoulder. It’s not a deliberate movement, more an unconscious one. You lean further back into the chair, allowing his fingers to fully settle against your shoulder. 

They explain that the half-cast will be on for 4-8 weeks, depending on how well it healed and they would want you back in at the 4 week mark for more x-rays. Then would come the boot, which would be on for another few weeks. Your heart sank a little at hearing that at least it would be 6 weeks before Isaac could be fully weight bearing again, at most 10. Nevermind that he couldn’t do sports for 3-6 after the boot came off. 

But a gentle squeeze on your shoulder from Robby grounds you and stops you spiraling, you were just going to have to come up with creative ways to keep Isaac entertained over summer. As the surgeon asks if you have any questions, Isaac who didn’t seem like he was paying attention pipes up, voice slightly saddened and gaze downcast at the cars in his laps. Somewhere along the way he had stopped playing with them. 

“Can I have a soda?”

The surgeon chuckles lightly, smiling at him with gentle eyes, “Yes sweetheart, you can have a soda?”

His eyes light up again, a small smile stretching across his lips as Robby opens and hands him the can of the soda. You roll your eyes affectionately as he lets out a small hum of satisfaction and a giggle at the carbonation as he takes a drink, turning back to the surgeon with a smile and a ‘thank you’ before they leave again. 

A deep breath,another steady squeeze from Robby, your heart leaping into your throat as tears dot your water line. A single second of weakness. Then you're blinking the tears away, clearing your throat and taking another sip of coffee before turning to Isaac with a smile. 

There’s a small, content smile on his face. Though his eyes reflect sadness and you can see tears in the corner, he doesn’t let them fall. You know he doesn’t want you to worry, so you lean forward and reach out to take his hand. Threading your fingers through his and rubbing soft circles into the skin with your thumb.

“It’s okay to be sad bug, you’re allowed to cry.”

A stiff nod from Isaac, his nose scrunching up as he sniffles and tries to stop the tears from falling. He rubs at his eyes with his free hand to try and dry the tears, but more form, and finally after a few minutes the fall. His hand tightens in yours, squeezing gently. 

You hear Robby’s breath hitch beside you, can feel his hoodie brush against your arms as he leans forward again and his hand reaches out to lay gently against Isaac’s arm. He gives a soft squeeze, fingers gently wrapping around the crook of his elbow and thumb resting against the bone where he also rubs soft circles into the skin. Isaac doesn’t pull away, instead he lets his arm fall heavy into the touch. 

You don’t talk for a few minutes, you just hold Isaac in your hands. Letting him cry and process and grieve his first summer in a new city.  The tears continue to fall, streaking salt rivers down Isaac’s cheek, the sniffles and soft sobs he lets out tugs at your heart and cracks it right down the middle. Slowly, the tears stop but the sniffling remains as snot falls from Isaac’s nose. 

You let go of his hand, stand and grab a tissue before rubbing gently at his cupid's bow and nose to clean it away. You cup his cheeks gently, placing a kiss against Isaac’s forehead as you rub gently under his eyes to clear the streaks that had been left behind. Isaac shakes gently, and his head falls against your shoulder as you hug him gently. 

You can feel Robby’s hand pressing into your ribs as you lean over, just barely, a moment of realisation striking through you like a lightning bolt under your skin. The room now holds three heart beats, learning and working together, another hand has joined your own and is learning the shape of fatherhood one soft circle after another.  Another kiss against the side of Isaac’s head and he pulls away softly. 

There’s a small smile on his face, soft. Reassuring. Sadness lingers in the edges of his eyes, but it's not as prominent now. Instead, there’s lingering hope and determination and you smile back at him. 

“Okay, let’s make a plan and see what things we can still do this summer.”

You sit back beside Robby, who’s already pulled his phone out and is scrolling through a list of places and activities on his phone. You can see the same look of determination in the golden specks of his irises as the sun hits them just right, it pierces through your ribs. Feeds the small bloom of hope that lives there, causes it to expand even further. A seed fully turning into a sprout, but not yet a blooming flower. You pull a notebook out of your bag, ready to write down ideas and potential dates. 

The next few hours are spent planning, interspersed with visits from nurses offering kind smiles and warm eyes. Taking vitals and monitoring swelling, bringing both breakfast and lunch for Isaac which was devoured in seconds, you even get another visit from Dana. It’s only for a few minutes, but she brought fresh coffee and sandwiches for you and Robby and even offers a few ideas for what to do as well, mentioning that there’s a motocross event happening only 30 minutes from the city. Isaac’s eyes absolutely lit up with that, he was practically vibrating with excitement again as he begged you to go. You wrote it down and promised to look into it. 

By the time the surgeon came in again, the sun was now sitting high in the sky and lit the room up in its warmth and golden light, and you had multiple pages of ideas and things to do. From museum trips and science events held at Carnegie Science Center to a trip to the national avery or aquarium, to art events being held at local comic books stores, to motocross events and races, and to baseball games (minor and major). 

By the end, there’s a wide smile on Isaac’s face as well as yours and Robby’s. Isaac requests to see the book and a pen and you let out a small chuckle as he reads over the pages and puts stars next to his favourite ones before handing it back with a proud smile on his face. To no one’s surprise, he starred the motocross and science events. 

At that moment, the room began to feel less like a hospital and more like a sanctuary where a family builds itself brick by brick, pen put to paper and a future you never imagined suddenly coming to life and as Robby looks at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in a long time, you can map the future in his eyes. 

The last step was just to book everything, but your phone was dead and you were without a charger. Robby had offered you his phone, but just as you went to decline the door opened again and the surgeon and a nurse walks in with a wheelchair. The wheels click gently as they move across the linoleum floor and there’s a squeak of brakes as the surgeon places it at the bottom of the bed. 

There’s a warm smile on their face, and a clipboard in their hands. You catch a glimpse of a title saying ‘discharge’ as they pull it close to your chest, and then there’s a breath of relief that rattles its way out of your chest. 

“Good news, the swelling has gone down much faster than anticipated and we are happy to let Isaac go home.”

There’s smiles all around and sighs of relief, weights dropping from chests and shoulders and melting into the ground. Robby’s hand reaches out, sits gently against your shoulder blade, thumb moving just ever so slightly against the fabric of your shirt. You lean back into the touch slightly, an unconscious movement. 

“Thank you doctor” 

Your voice is soft, relief dripping off every word. You look to Isaac again, whose hands are now fiddling with the edge of the gown, fingers dipping under the hem slightly to scratch at his skin. There’s a smile on his face and relief in his eyes, the little starbursts shining like a galaxy in the sun as he thinks about getting home. 

“If you two want to follow me to get the discharge paperwork signed, the nurses can help get Isaac changed and all ready to go”

You give a smile, a nod, and gather your things into your bag. Robby stands with you, and you both give Isaac’s hand a quick squeeze, before you walk out of the room. Once again, you’re led down winding corridors and passed rooms, but this time you take in the painted animals and flowers on the walls. The colours shifting in a recognisable pattern of something comforting to children, there’s little decompression and play rooms for patients staying longer. There’s a rush of hushed conversations behind doors, of laughter and lightness as families try and find the good in a bad situation. 

The waiting room is busier now than it was last night. It’s not as scary, not as clinical. There’s families sitting around and children playing with the toys. Nurses and doctors bustle about, tablets and clipboards in hand, there’s kind smiles on their faces as you pass them. As you step up to the desk, Robby presses in close beside you. His arm is wrapped protectively around your shoulders, part of his chest pressing in against your back as he moves you gently out of the way of a bustling nurse going by with a medical cart. 

The surgeon hands the discharge paperwork to you, explains every detail as you fill it in and reminds you of the expected healing time as well as things you can do to make it a little easier. If there’s some residual pain, some tylenol of ibuprofen every four hours should help, if there itchiness (as there usually is in a cast) use a low setting on a hair dryer and do not, under any circumstance, stick anything into the half-cast to ease the itch. Take the first few days easy and come back if there’s any issues. 

You hand over the paperwork, smiling and thanking her once again. Then there’s a click of wheels, the screech of worn tires against linoleum, and Isaac is beside you again with two nurses. One pushing the chair, the other with a pair of crutches. They explain the crutches can be used at home, but they would recommend getting in contact with a wheelchair rental service for venturing outside. You offer them a kind smile, hand reaching out to shake theirs and give thanks. 

Then you turn to Isaac again, smile softening. Almost reverent as you scan his body, hand reaching out to his which he happily takes. 

“Ready to go home bug?”

A hearty nod and a chuckle from you and Robby, who leans in close to your ear.

“You need a ride?”

You glance him from the side, completely forgetting you had arrived in an ambulance and your phone was dead so you couldn’t order an uber. There’s a deep breath from you, and from Robby. You can feel his chest expand against your back, the press of his ribs into your skin.

“If you don’t mind.” 

Soft. Hesitant. You had been doing this alone for so long, that help seemed foreign even if it wasn’t unwelcome. 

Robby shakes his head, lips turning up in a soft smile. He wasn’t going to verbalise it, but he didn’t want this to end. Because, finally, after so many years apart he had you again. Like there was some part of his soul that had left with you and was just now finally slotting back into place. Where he was previously lost and alone, wandering the desert under a starless sky there’s now a guiding light showing him the way to the one thing he didn’t know he needed. Family.

“Of course not, I just gotta stop by The Pitt first and grab my things.”

You nod, smile at the nurses as you take over behind the wheelchair while Robby takes the crutches and then step out of the waiting room. Glass doors slide closed behind you, quietly as you take one step after another into a shared future. Sunlight streams in through wide windows, a golden warmth blanketing you. Isaac’s voice is soft, some tiredness seeping into the edges as he talks about how excited he is to go home. 

Unnamed hope fills you, flows through your blood like liquid honey. You had stepped into the hospital, a single parent, and now you were stepping out a family. The man beside you transformed from a ghost to flesh and bone, a beating heart and a warm touch, you could only hope he stayed that way. 

And Robby, he’s warm beside you, arms brushing against you as you walk. He talks, voice warm and deep, a gentle cadence you remember in the very fibre of your being. There’s a gentleness to him now, eyes crinkled around the edges and laugh lines visible as he smiles. 

His eyes very rarely leave you, muscle memory kicking in and carrying him through the hospital. Emotions you can’t, or refuse, to name dancing on the surface. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to at that moment, but he’s changed. There’s something deeply soul shattering in his gaze, the quiet kind of reverence you had experienced all those years ago when you first fell in love. A quiet promise of forever that he intends to keep.

And to your surprise, he does.

___

It's late Tuesday evening, three days after you left the hospital, the sun is just starting to dip in the sky. Golden rays of light transform into something ethereal as they’re replaced by stretches of coral and lavender, streaks of deep indigos and violets poking through as it dips lower and lower. It's a clear night, the moon already fully visible and keeping watch over your home with the gaze of a lover and protector. A keeper of secrets and harbinger of new beginnings. 

There’s still a lingering heat in the air, still a humidity that seeps into your bones but it’s not as heavy. It’s languid, slow. Forces you to move with intention, not just instinct. But the falling sun had brought with it a cool breeze, one that blows through the open windows and ruffles the curtains. Makes the house feel alive, the thrum of a heartbeat under skin. The air conditioning also helps, keeps the sweat from dripping down your neck and avoids the sticky sensation that comes with such high humidity.

Especially as you flit about the kitchen, pulling plates and cups out of cupboards. Setting up side dishes of guac and salsa and sour cream, all placed on a lazy susan in the center of the table. Tortillas are warming on the grill, the barbacoa bubbles away idly in the slow cooker, and Isaac sits at the table. Switch in hand, mind distracted momentarily from the heavy weight of his casted leg that rests gently on a chair in front of him. 

Though you can tell he’s getting impatient, the little grunts of frustration you sometimes hear become more noticeable. The shaking of his un-injured leg, picking up speed and making the dining chair shake and rattle against both the table and the ground. You had told him Robby was running a little late, a bad accident coming into the ERjust minutes before he was supposed to leave. Isaac said he understood, but he couldn’t help the impatience as the clock ticked over to 8:15pm. 

Then, as you’re placing the tortillas on the table, there’s a knock at the door. Three in quick succession, barely heard over the soft music you have playing. They’re tentative, almost nervous. Isaac immediately perks up, switch dropped to the table as he reaches for his crutches, a wide smile spreading on his face. 

“I’ll get it!”

The excitement in his voice kills any protest you had building, hands settling onto the edge of the table with a quiet sigh. You know he hated being cooped up like this, he was an active kid and liked to be on the move and the resting period was always going to be the hardest. You still worried, of course you did, but you recognised his needs for independence and his need to be involved in this. So, you let him go. Following just a few steps behind in case he stumbled, especially as there were still boxes lining the hallway because you didn’t have the time to fully unpack everything just yet. 

He struggles to unlatch the door, so you reach out and do it for him, taking a step back when he opens it to Robby. There’s a sheepish look on Robby's face, his hand gripping tightly on to his back pack while the other rubs nervously at his neck. You can see the apology already loaded on his tongue, his mouth opens but immediately closes as Isaac all but tackles him into a hug. 

“Michael!” 

An ‘oof’ leaves Robby and a chuckle passes your lips, Isaac’s arms are wrapped tight around his body as he balances on one leg. Both crutches are now dangling in the air and hitting Robby in the shins, but he doesn’t mind. 

A smile splits across Robby’s face half a second later, the shock of the impact and affection quickly passing as he wraps his free hand around Isaac. His hand landing on his head where he ruffles his hair affectionately. 

“Hey buddy”

Robby's voice is soft, weary. Carrying the kind of tiredness only those in the medical profession understood, the weight of a long shift, a bad shift, sitting heavy in their bones and on their chest. It’s in his eyes too, the dark circles forming under them and the sadness that permeates even through the joy of seeing his son. But he still smiles, still looks up at you as you lean against one of the clear walls of the small hallway with a warm smile on your face.

The silver light of the moon shines down on you through the door, halos you in its glow and with the warm light of a home behind you Robby freezes for a second. His mind buffers, his breathing hitches and he can think of a thousand ways to describe you and yet they simply wouldn’t be enough. These were the moments he missed the most, he thinks. The quiet, messy ones where there’s a stain on your shirt from the dinner, hair messy and untamed as it came undone throughout the day. The golden glow of your skin even after a day's work and cooking. 

“Hi.”

Robby’s voice is somehow even softer now, a whisper that’s almost lost in the wind. You duck your head a second, suddenly shy under his gaze. You had forgotten just how intense it could be. How it had made you feel like a teenager discovering romance when you meet for the first time. And here he was, looking at you like it was the first time all over again. Your cheeks heat, the rush of blood an involuntary thing, but you look up again. Smile softly at him, motion your head to the side a little and chuckle.

“Hi, are you gonna come in?”

Isaac lets Robby go, wobbling a little as he does but Robby steadies him as he gets his crutches on the ground. You can both see Isaac’s hand open and close before he places it on the handle, like he wants to reach out and grab Robby’s hand but he can’t because of the crutches. You look at Robby, see the gears turning in his head before he swoops his free hand down under Isaac and lifts him into his arms, being careful not to jostle the injured leg in the process. 

There’s a look of shock on Isaac's face as he’s momentarily displaced then a laugh bubbles out of him as he throws his head back in joy. Your hand had flown to your chest, placed gently over your now hammering heart as visions of either of them being hurt flooded your mind, but now it drops. There’s a deep breath, a sigh, a playful glare towards Robby who just gives a cheeky grin and a wink back.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack Robinavitch”

You push yourself off the wall, finger pointing accusingly at Robby who joins Isaac in his laughter. You affectionately roll your eyes and turn away from the two, leading the way to the kitchen. 

Robby follows, hand a little looser around the strap of his back pack as he kicks the front door closed behind him. Steps a little lighter than when he had walked up your path. Eyes brighter, more alive. The cinderblock that had lodged itself in his chest only a few days earlier cracks again, crumbles around the edges as dust falls through his bones and into the floor. It’s still there, just a little smaller now. A little more delicate, one powerful hit and it would be gone.

Robby, very gently, sets Isaac down by the table and helps him into the chair making sure to take extra care when placing the injured leg opposite him. His bag is placed under the table, close enough so he can grab it but far enough that neither you or he would trip over the straps. He moves to help you get everything ready, muscle memory from a time before and a desire to simply exist in your orbit leading the way, but Isaac grabs his hand and smiles up at him.

“Do you wanna see my minecraft village?”

Robby’s eyes soften, the crows feet at the side dissipating as he smiles gently at Isaac. He had no idea what minecraft was, he had heard a few of the kids in the ER and Harrison talk about it but he still didn’t know what it was. He had filled it away with things like Fortnight and Roblox and slang terms he didn’t understand, something he didn’t need to know or care about unless a patient was talking to him about it. But, now he cares.

“Yeah buddy.”

You watch the two from the counter, head tilted to the side and eyes cautious yet tender. You didn’t know what to expect letting Robby back into your life and into Isaac’s, there was a cautious optimism that lived deep in your bones. Buried under layers and layers of doubt and fear. Fear he would disappoint. Fear he wouldn’t show up. Fear he would disappear again. It was a dark shroud hanging over your shoulders, and yet, as you watch Isaac ramble on excitedly about minecraft and Robby (though looking very confused) smile and follow along with enthusiasm the golden light of hope and that cautious optimism started to shine through. 

For the first time, you think things might just work out. 

“Okay, time to put it away.”

Isaac pouts, his free foot almost stomping on the ground like a disgruntled rabbit, and he turns to you with pleading eyes. “But mommmm,” He drags it out in childish impatience, looking at you with puppy dog eyes that he knows never really works, “I was just gonna show Michael my farm.”

Robby chuckles beside him, eyes darting up to yours for a moment to see how you handle this. He had a lot to learn after all, and your word was law. A deep sigh and you push yourself off the counter, to instead lean down on the table with crossed arms so you could look Isaac in the eyes.

“You know the rules, no devices at dinner. But…”

A glimmer of hope and Isaac’s pout starts to dissolve.

“I can give you 30 extra minutes of play time before bed, you can use it to show Michael your farm or anything else. How does that sound?”

A wide smile breaks onto Isaac’s face and he quickly saves his game before handing the switch over to you. You offer him a wink as you take it and stand up again. When you look to Robby, there's a shadow of devotion one you had seen years before under a half moon arch of peonies and dahlias. Your heart stutters, breath catching in your throat and you have to clear it to regain a semblance of composure. Your heart betraying your brain as it remembers what being loved by him was like. 

A warm, familiar blanket settles over you. Threadbare and torn at the edges, but still comfortable. The kind of blanket you reach for on a stormy night as lightning flashes outside and rain batters the windows, promising shelter and safety. An unspoken vow of forever weaved into the fabric. 

You mentally throw it off your shoulders. 

Of course, Robby notices the shift. The way your shoulders tense for half a second, the sharp inhale of breath as you turn away from them and the subtle shake of your head as if you’re trying to clear away something unpleasant. The walls you had built around you heart coming up once again. He sighs softly, eyes going back to Isaac who’s now talking about the cool new science book you had gotten him that talks about animal biology. It hurts, your reaction, a knife blade slipping right between his rips and poking at the soft flesh of his heart. 

The only reason it doesn’t pierce it and devastate him is because he knows it’s warranted, he had hurt you and now he had to deal with those consequences. He knew forgiveness, and even true acceptance of him being back in your life, would take time. 

Dinner passes by uneventfully, but it’s filled with laughter and smiles as Isaac tells stories and asks Robby questions about himself and his work. Robby’s favourite colour turns into a story about the reflection of the sunset in the water as he walks through the park one summer evening. What he doesn’t tell Isaac is that it was also the colour of your dress on your first date and the night he proposed. When you hear it, you can’t help but look down at your plate and take a deep breath to steady your rapidly beating heart. You didn’t think he would remember that, didn’t think it would still be his favourite colour all these years later.

It’s destabilizing, rattling you from the inside and though you try to keep yourself and walls stable, little micro fractures start to appear. Unnoticeable, little webs of golden light leaking through the walls like the starbursts in Robby's and Isaac’s eyes. You excuse yourself from the table, lifting empty plates and glasses and placing them in the sink. If you stayed any longer, you were sure to fracture completely. 

As you work on cleaning the dishes, you keep an ear out on the conversation. Smiling softly to yourself as stories are swapped and laughter fills the now quiet evening air. You had turned the music off before dinner, and the streets were almost silent. Only a few cars passed by as time ticked over, if you strained you could hear the sound of wildlife and a soft wind rustling trees. The clatter of trash bins opening and closing, soft footsteps as people did late night walks. It wasn’t silent, but it was peaceful. A sacred kind of feeling that felt like the world leaning in and breathing for the first time in centuries. 

As you place the last cup on the drying rack, the slow cooker a problem for tomorrow, you glance towards the clock on the microwave where it reads 22:00. You turn around, arms crossed over your chest. Robby and Isaac are huddled close now, conspiratorial smiles on their faces as they whisper amongst themselves. You wish you could put the moment in a bottle and keep it forever. 

 But unfortunately, it's past bed time. 

“Isaac,” your voice is quiet, a kind of gentle that only comes from a mother looking at their greatest love. It absolutely wrecks Robby internally, sends his mind and heart into a tailspin as it thuds against his chest. It was a tone he had never heard before, it made him think of all the things he missed and all the things he had yet to learn and relearn about you. The possibility of it all excited him, made his pulse skitter under his skin as he took a calm, steadying breath. 

“Yeah mom?”

Isaac looks up with tired eyes, something you were sure he wouldn’t admit to, but he blinks slowly and has to maintain concentration to open them fully again. You smile soft, love written into every line on your forehead and crinkle beside your eyes. Robby has to take another deep breath as his heart skips a beat.

“It’s time for bed bug,”

Another pout, a but loading on his tongue that's quickly dispelled with a shake of your head.

“It’s 10 o’clock bug, you’ve had more time than we agreed."

He looks to Robby as if he could save him, he wants to spend more time with him after all, but Robby just shakes his own head.

“You heard your mom, buddy, it’s time for bed.”

His pout deepens, but when he reaches up to rub the sleep out of his eyes you know he isn’t going to argue. 

“Can Michael stay?”

A sharp breath, a shared look between you and Robby, a question you weren’t prepared for. Your chest rattles, eyes scanning over Robby’s features. He had brightened up over the near two hours he had been in your home, but you can still see the lingering tiredness. The stiffness in his shoulders as he struggles to hold himself up, the dark circles under his eyes and the slow blinking that is so much like Isaacs another crack appears in your walls. You almost give in, almost. 

“Not tonight bug.”

You go to Isaac’s side, hand gently running through his hair as you look between him and Robby. “I’m sure Michael’s up early tomorrow for work, so he needs to go home and get some sleep too.”

A slow, sleepy nod from Isaac. His hands reaching out as he leans over as best he can to wrap his arms around Robby who instantly melts into the touch. His own arms wrapping around Isaac as he rubs at his back, he goes to place a soft kiss against the side of his head, but stops himself. Not yet echoing in the back of his mind. 

“Goodnight Michael.”

“Goodnight Isaac.”

Robby’s voice is hushed, melting into the skin around Isaac's neck as he gives a gentle squeeze, you barely hear it but there’s a crack. A break of quiet adoration finally spoken into the universe. When Isaac pulls away, you take a step back and allow him to calibrate himself in his crutches before he waddles away slowly towards the next room. 

“Where’s he going?”

You turn to Robby, soft smile on your lips, “The playroom, because we’re still unpacking it was easier to set his bed up down here for the time being. He has everything he needs and can maintain some of his independence.”

A nod from Robby as he grabs his bag from under the table. There’s something different about him now, not physically but you can still see it. Something had shifted in the very marrow of his bones and the fabric of his soul, there’s a lightness around his eyes you hadn’t seen since you had first started dating. A softness to the hard exterior of a man. A permanence in the way he looked at you, and Isaac, and the life you had built like this was now his forever and he had simply spent the last ten years looking for a way home. 

Another shared look, softer this time. A shared acknowledgement of the new lives you were now building around you, brick by brick. Story by story. Dinner by dinner. It would take time, but maybe you could learn to love again. 

You walk Robby to the door, that familiar blanket of warmth drawing closer around you but not yet fully settling around your skin as he turns to wish you good night. There’s a moment of hesitation with you both, silence stretching into the night and being lifted on a summer breeze. Neither of you make a move, just look. 

Robby wants to reach out, to feel you in his arms and hold you there once again. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to push. To make you uncomfortable. Even if you looked devastatingly beautiful in the moonlight. 

You want to reach out too, even if just to feel the warmth of his skin or the scratch of his beard against your palm as you cup his cheek. But you hold back, arms instead wrapping protectively around your chest. Protecting your heart from the now more noticeable crack in its walls. 

“Goodnight Michael.”

Quiet, a whisper almost lost to the hoot of an owl and the crunch of gravel as tires drag across a driveway. But still there, more veneration than you had intended. 

“Goodnight.”

Soft, sweet, reverent. Almost a solemn prayer and a promise wrapped into one. It wasn’t a goodbye, it was an I’ll see you tomorrow.

And as the door closed, more golden light poked through your armored walls.

___

The next few weeks are filled with evening visits and dinners, weekends spent as a family unit. Your living room turned from an area of rest and relaxation to a graveyard of pillow and blankets, forts made and burned to the ground in imaginary war zones. Instead of silence or music, a random tv show in the background or the sounds of video games, there squeals of laughter. What once was dead space, is now alive. A thrumming pulse of activity, a lifeline you didn’t know you desperately needed.

Isaac adjusts to his crutches, moving more fluidly and with less fear, and Michael shows up. Every night, even if it’s late and all I can do is a quick hello and a goodnight. Days off where he would lock himself up with medical journals and spiraling thoughts are now spent at your home, under a mountain of blankets and pillows you had deliberately pulled out of storage or with toy cars and race tracks in his hands. Stories are swapped, laughter spilled like wine and whiskey that warms him from the inside. 

Then there's the closeness with you, hesitant touches as you brush against each other shifting into something more deliberate. Your shoulder pressed into his as he helps you in the kitchen, hand lingering just a moment too long as you hand him something, thighs pressed close together as you sit on the sofa and watch Isaac present a magic trick he had learned on youtube. 

Then there’s the first night he stays. It's July 5th and despite an exhausting day before in the ER, Robby takes Isaac out to the Carnegie Science Center during the day to not only spend time with his son but to give you space to work, unpack and breathe. Despite insisting you were fine, Michael could see the way you wobbled on the tightrope between exhaustion and burnout, one wrong step and you would collapse. 

Isaac, of course, had an incredible time and was basically humming with barely contained excitement as Michael pushed him through the door on the temporary wheelchair you had rented. His voice loud and boisterous as he rattled off all the things they had seen, everything he had got to do and try. His eyes were alight with life and passion and you couldn’t help but smile at him. 

Behind him, the sun is just starting to set the brilliant gold of the day transforming into something softer as yellows and orange streak across the cloudless sky and if you look closely enough you can see some hues of indigo and violet mixing in. They frame Michael in a halo of colour, edges soft and shadow blurred behind him, as he steps through the front door. 

There was always an air of permanent exhaustion around Michael, he supposed it went with the territory of being caked in the scent of anti-sceptic and blood and illness that he carried with him from being in the ER, yet he felt lighter than he had in years. Being with Isaac did more than bring him joy, it was actively reviving him. He had long ago accepted that his life would be short flings and one-night stands, loneliness displaced by the sound of voices on the tv as he tried to sleep. But now? 

Now he saw what his life could be, full of life. Full of love. Full of hope. Hope for a future he had no idea existed only a month ago. 

“You coming in?”

Your voice is soft, teasing as you lean against the wall at the end of the hallway with your arms crossed and head tilted to the side. Michael had been standing there for a few moments too long, just watching Isaac as he transferred from the wheelchair to his crutches and settled into the sofa. 

The boxes that had lingered around the door for the past few weeks are gone and as Michael moves inside he sees the living room is decorated with trinkets and books and candles. Photos line the walls and the bookshelf is impeccably ordered, the first one that catches Michael’s eyes is one he had gotten you. Limited edition copies of The Lord of the Rings series, still perfect as if they hadn’t been touched. Then he spots the photo next to it. 

It’s a recent one. Of him and Isaac surrounded by pillows and cars and books on the living room floor (where the coffee table now is) both with smiles on their faces. He never even noticed you taking the picture.

“You’ve had a busy day.”

A snort from you as you run your fingers through your hair and push yourself off the wall, “Yeah, I uh… I couldn’t keep still.”

Michael looks at you, a smirk on his face that crinkles his crows feet and sends a flutter through your heart. 

“You could have asked for help, you know.”

A soft sigh, a gentle look from the corner of your eyes as you rock back on your feet. 

“I know, I’m still getting used to this whole not doing it alone thing.”

Michael nods, then notices the two used and empty wine glasses on the dining table and shakes his head with a small laugh as you follow his gaze with a shrug.

“I also had Dana over to help.”

You nudge his shoulder playfully before stepping back, “Go sit down, Isaac’s requested a movie night and the popcorns just finished.” 

As you pass Isaac on the couch, you ruffle his hair and press a kiss against the top of his head and laugh softly when he scrunches up his nose.

“What do you want to drink bug?”

“A sprite please”

A nod from you, eyes moving over to Michael with a soft smile, “You want a beer?”

Michael moves the sofa, covered in soft throw blankets and pillows, kicking his shoes off and placing them under the coffee table as he does, and gives a small nod before sitting at the end of the sofa. Isaac is in the middle of the three-seater, sitting closer to the other end than he is to Michael but despite their growing relationship he doesn’t want to push any further than he’s allowed. But then Isaac’s tugging on his hand, pulling him closer to him to show off the features of the toy they had picked up at the bookshop. 

He leans in close, arm wrapping around the back of the sofa to allow him as close as Isaac wants, to look it over. There’s buttons and lights and a remote that Isaac hands him with an excited smile, at the look a pleasant crack ricochets through his body right down the middle of the cinderblock that had been slowly eroding over the past few weeks. 

It's no bigger than a brick now, sitting tucked tight underneath his ribs instead of the domineering pressure on his chest it had once been. Still there, lingering, but buried under layers of soft cotton and the butterfly wings of Isaac eyelashes as they blink up at him. Grief now replaced with learning and light and love. 

You join them a few seconds later, popcorn bowl placed in Isaac’s lap and Michael notices the peanut m&m’s and candied almonds and can’t help but tuck his chin to try and hide his smile. He knew that was your influence, and of course you catch it as you hand him an open beer.

“What are you smiling at?”

There’s a small spark of electricity up your arm as your fingers brushed, and you stop, for just a moment. Fingers pressed softly against one another as Michael wraps his hand around yours. There’s mischief and teasing in the starbursts of his eyes, the golden hour light making them shine even brighter than normal. His eyes dart to the popcorn bowl, then back to you, fingers tightening just a little.

“Some things just don’t change.”

There’s a playful roll of your eyes, an unconscious smile stretching across your face as you finally pull your hand back and let him take the beer from you. Then you’re gone again, just for a moment, then you’re handing Isaac his sprite in a non-spill cup that he can keep beside him and placing a glass of wine on the coffee table for yourself before throwing a bag of candy at Michael with a playful glare. 

It hits his chest, bounces to his knees and he laughs. Full, unrestrained. But his eyes never leave yours as you settle in next to Isaac on the other side, he brings his free hand up to his face and attempts to hide the smile between his fingers but he fails and you’re laughing alongside him. Another crack, this time in your walls, spider webs turning into full fractures that allow pieces to crumble around you. Golden light penetrates and fills you with a warmth you’re still too scared to admit you not only missed, but craved in the deepest parts of your soul. 

It’s still early-ish, the soft yellows and oranges transforming into deep indigos and violets as the sun slowly dips lower in the sky, your phone reading as 8:45. You agreed to let Isaac stay up a bit later than usual, the energy from the day not yet fully leaving his system, and agree that each of you will pick one movie. Isaac picks Wall-E, it’s one of his favourites and you’re just grateful he hasn’t chosen Meet the Robinsons again. 

There’s laughter shared throughout the movie, jokes and comments about certain scenes. If there was one thing you could say about Michael coming back into your life, it’s that it’s never truly quiet and you appreciate it. He, and Isaac, reminded you every day that there was more to life than just surviving and trying your best and that you needed space to simply be and live too. 

By the end of the first movie, night had fully set in and the stars give little sprinkles of silver light through your blinds. It’s the only light, but it’s all you need against the backdrop of the TV. You’ve all shifted on the sofa. You with your legs up to your side as you lean in close to Isaac with one arm supporting your head on the sofa. Isaac is leaning in close against Michael, head resting softly against his shoulder as best he can with his leg propped on the coffee table and Michael is closer to him. Hand wrapped around the back now laying gently against Isaac’s shoulder. And somewhere along the way, all three of you had ended up wrapped up in your giant throw blanket and the pillows were thrown to the floor. 

You can see the tiredness finally settle in Isaac, in how his eyes are starting to close over just a bit and he has to force them awake. In the limpness of his hand as you hold it in your free one. He still asks for another movie. 

You let Michael choose this one, content to just exist in space with the two. Honestly, they could have chosen the most boring movie in existence and you would have been happy. He chooses Matilda. You give him a curious glance when he clicks on the movie, it was unexpected and he simply shrugs but there’s lightness in his eyes. A memory flashing between them and you wonder if he’s also remembering the first night you stayed at his place when you started dating. 

The mountain of blankets you had formed on his bed, brought from your own home, curling up in his arms as you waxed poetic about the how it was one of your favourites telling stories of lazy sundays spent at your grandparents with the movie on the background. How you, in your young mind, had convinced yourself you were like Matilda and tried to move things with your mind. The smile on his face and the small chuckle he lets out tell you he is. 

You can feel your cheeks heat at the look and quickly look away, glancing down at Isaac to see him perk up a little bit as the movie starts. You place a quick kiss to his head and lean further into him, head leaning against his as you readjust on the sofa. As you move, so does Michael. His hand and arm now leaning against the back, his fingers trailing gently against the skin of your neck and your clothed shoulder. Heat blooms wherever he touches, spreads out and trickles down your spine. 

It’s quieter now, laughter now hushed. Conversation abandoned as you both let Isaac drift off to sleep but you can feel Michael’s eyes on you almost the whole time. He’s watching the way you mouth along to the script, the way your head bobs slightly to the music, a warm smile on his face the entire time.

Then the movie ends, screen turning black as the credit’s roll. Michael pauses it, a comfortable silence stretches over you. That old tattered blanket settles closer to you, wrapping around your ribs but not yet settling on your shoulders but it doesn’t restrict. It is comforting. It's warm, familiar. An old friend coming home. 

There’s a shared breath, deep, grounding. Both of you look at Isaac who snores gently at your side, then Michael looks at you with a soft smile on your face. He wants to take his phone out and take a photo, commit this image to memory forever so he can look back on it on the long days. He realises then, he doesn’t want to leave. Could spend the rest of his days just locked in this moment.

“You want me to lift him into bed?”

It’s a whisper, soft. Gentle. And just like that the world comes back into focus, the sound of cicadas filtering in through the open window, a radio from a small party down the street playing soft music as it winds down. The twinkling stars and moonlight as they shine in the sky, reflecting off the glass of the coffee table and sending a kaleidoscope spreading across the floor. It’s something delicate, breakable. You don’t want to move, slow your breathing so as not to disturb the movement. 

Then there’s a startling thought, you don’t want him to go. You could get used to this, to Michael being not only in your life but in your space. Potentially in your heart once again.  It scares you, but you don’t let it stop you. Your conversation with Dana ringing in the back of your mind, don’t let fear stop you from living.

“Yeah, I’ll get everything cleaned up”

A nod, then you’re both slowly moving off the sofa so as not to disturb Isaac. As you gather the dishes and empty bags into the near empty popcorn bowl, Michael gently hoists Isaac into his arm being very careful so as not to bang his broken leg. You watch his back as he disappears down the hallway and into the playroom before making your way to the kitchen.

When he returns, you're leaning against the counter and responding to a text. Michael doesn’t clear his throat, barely makes a sound as he pads into the kitchen and yet your body knows he’s there and you look up instinctively. He’s only a few steps away

“I should go”

Soft, whispered into the night. A heart beat slams in your ears, you can’t tell if it’s yours.

“You should stay.”

A look of shock, a skipped heart beat. Elation blooming in Michael’s veins, yet trepidation leaks from his tongue.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

You roll your eyes, softly. Affectionately.

“I still have a pair of your old sweats, I can put your clothes in the washer and dryer before we go to bed.”

A moment of stillness, a shared recognition of I don’t want this to end. A step closer, you can’t tell who takes it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Then you’re taking a step back, leading Michael up the stairs to your bedroom where you riffle through drawers before pulling out an old worn pair of sweats. Their college branded, Michaels alma mater, a little tattered and worn but still perfectly wearable. As Michael takes them, they are soft and obviously still well cared for. 

“Thank you.”

You nod, gentle, eyes soft as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Bathroom is just there,” You point to the door at the top of the stairs, “The guest bedroom is beside it.” 

Another soft ‘thanks’ passed from Michael's lips, and you nod before turning back down the stairs. When you reach the kitchen, there’s silence. Cicada’s no longer chirp, the dimmed down radio is now quiet and the gentle summer breeze no longer ruffles the trees. The air feels heavy, tense. Full of anticipation and longing and maybe something a little more dangerous. It’s the time before a storm, before the world around you is thrown into chaos. Where most people seek shelter.

And yet, there’s peace. You are not outside of the storm watching it destroy the world, but in it. Cradled gently in its arms at the center. You were safe. Warm. Protected. A feeling of whatever happens here, now, it would not destroy you. 

There’s a deep breath as you steady yourself against the kitchen counter, eyes closing for just a moment. A thousand what if’s playing in your mind, a thousand reasons this won’t work and then a thousand more of what if it does? You try not to swell on them too long and quickly regain your composure. Another deep breath, rattling against your ribs and you open your eyes. 

You busy yourself with pouring another glass of wine and grabbing a cold beer for Michael and he joins you only a minute later. His clothes bundled up in his hands, the sweatpant riding low on his hips and he’s shirtless. You try to stop yourself from trailing your eyes up his body, admiring the pudge of his belly and the happy trail that leads up to his chest hair. When you meet Michael’s eyes and see the small flush dusting his cheeks, you realise you failed. 

Heat rises up your neck and to your cheeks, you hope it isn’t as obvious as it feels. The burn of skin, like touching a hot stove top, spreading like a wildfire. You don’t address it, just clear you throat and take the clothes from him.

“I’ll be uh… back in a second. There’s a beer there for you if you wanna um…wait on the couch. The button for the lamps on the base.”

You don’t wait for him to reply, instead make your way around him with a hitched breath and a hammering heart. It had been years since you had felt like this, it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen a naked man since you had divorced Michael but there was something that was just so uniquely him that it got under your skin. Made you feel crazy and young and totally inexperienced, as if it was your first time seeing him like that. 

You curse to yourself as you load his clothes into the washer, in a small alcove outside the playroom, desperately begging your heart to calm down and remember you’re a grown adult and you can handle this. 

As you do, Michael struggles in the kitchen. As soon as he noticed you looking, more like oggling, his body froze. His heart started hammering against his ribs and his stomach twisted itself in knots over and over again, like some little school boy who had just discovered what feelings were. He wanted to say something a little teasing and maybe just a tad egotistical, but the words got caught on his tongue and his brain completely melted. And just as he finally regained his bearings, you were talking and then you were gone. Disappearing into a little nook just outside the playroom where he assumed the washer and dryer were. 

Michael has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself,  to calm his pounding heart. He clenches and unclenches his hands, his jaw, anything to try and release the roiling tension inside of him that mirrored the tension in the air. Then he takes a step, unsteady. Unsure. Walking a tightrope he knew he was destined to fall off, the only question was when? 

Then another, steadier yet still soft. Bare feet barely making a sound against the wood grain floor. The coldness of the beer and the condensation dripping onto his hand is welcome, a shock to his system that reminds him to take it easy. This is fine. You’re two adults, who just happen to share a kid, spending time together. Once he has the beer and wine in hand, he moves to the sofa and uses his foot to press the button on the lamp. 

The light is gentle, warm, the same yellow as peonies in early summer filtered through the shade. It spotlights the sofa in its glow, fizzling out at the edges and scaring away the creeping shadows in the corners. He takes a seat, one leg folded over the other as he placed both drinks on the coffee table. 

You join him a few minutes later, changed out of your day clothes and into a pair of baggy sweatpants with your own alma mater embroidered into the side and an oversize t-shirt. It’s a band shirt, one that has certainly seen better days with the faded graphics and pain stains dotting the bottom. But it’s still unmistakable, it is was his. He still remembers the day it got the navy blue stain just under the neckline. 

You had just moved in together, about a year before the wedding, and were decorating the bedroom on one of his few days off. He had rubbed at his face not realising there was paint on his fingers and when you had laughed, he had rubbed his face over your shirt in retaliation as you giggled and half-heartedly attempted to push him away. You had both ended the night with paint in places it should not have been. 

He clears his throat, shakes his head lightly as he realises he was staring before re-adjusting on the sofa. You sit at the other end, where you had been before, and drape the blanket over your legs as you pull your knees up to your chest. It makes you look small, fragile. Shoulders curling in as you place your chin atop your knees and wrap your arms around your legs. 

There’s silence, not the dramatic kind where words are left unspoken but the intimate kind of two people learning how to navigate life together again. Your eyes are soft, crinkling at the edges slightly, but still bright under the lamplight. He can see your mind racing behind them in the way your lips twitch and your fingers drum against the blanket as you search for something to say despite the fact the silence doesn’t necessarily need to be filled. 

He scans you, just for a moment. You were still you, the same beautiful woman he had loved all those years ago. But you were different, time and life and motherhood had changed you so fundamentally that were parts of your soul that he didn’t recognise, parts he desperately wanted to meet and map out and learn. He had already started re-painting the tapestry of you in his mind, detailing every grey hair and wrinkle and laugh line, every new freckle on your skin and small scars he had discovered over the last few weeks. The image of you warping from wife to something more reverent and holy, mother and woman and friend transforming the image into something spectacular. 

He also mapped out the hidden hurt in your eyes, the little flickering of pain that had danced across your irises for the last few weeks. How you had tried to keep them hidden, protecting not just your heart but Isaacs. He, of course, knew Michael had hurt you in the past, but you protected him from how it still hurt now. The unspoken words of why wasn’t I enough passing your face for just a fraction of a second every time he comes by. But he saw it. And he knew he needed to apologise for it. 

Michael shifts, both feet now on the floor as he brings his elbows to his knees and clasps his hands together. There’s stillness, a deep breath. A calibration in his mind of what he needs to say. His heart hammers in his chest, as does your as you brace for what was to come. 

There’s a crack of thunder outside, a bright flash of light that illuminates you both. A bright white that streaks across the room, it’s dazzling. Almost a moment frozen in time, a man hunched over as if he was in prayer, hands clasped together so tightly the tips started to turn white, and a woman, his god, holding vigil over his form as finally spoke of his sins. 

“I-” 

There’s a crack in his voice, you can’t tell if it’s a moment of hesitation or an emotional overwhelm that causes it. But there’s a shake to his shoulders, a trembling of his hands, and you can see the way his chest stutters with uneven breaths as he tries to collect himself.

Vulnerability was not something Michael was good at. It scared him. Talks of feelings and fears and hopes and dreams, laying his heart and soul bare to another person was absolutely terrifying. Because once it was all out there, out of his control, they could do anything with it. Hurt him. Punish him. Ruin him. But then they could also support him. Guide him. Love him despite all of the aches and pains and flaws. He had always been so terrified of showing someone the damaged parts of his souls because they might run away and it was so overwhelming that he had never considered the fact that they could also stay. 

He hoped you would stay.

You soften as he gathers himself, legs crossing underneath you and hands falling limp in the gap between them. Your shoulders are still hunched, not with harshness or as a protective instinct but as a gentle spot for him to lay his head if things got too much. You wanted him to know he was safe. You weren’t going to run and hide, you were going to catch him when he falls. No longer holding vigil for a man confessing sin, but offering sanctuary and grace to drowning man.

“I’m sorry for…everything. I was not the man you deserved back then. You were too good for me. Too kind. Too patient. Too loving. You carried everything alone when I should have been by your side carrying the weight alongside you.”

Another deep breath, you can’t tell from who, another tremble in his voice. Your lashline starts to water.

“I was scared… of loving you and being loved by you. I hid inside the hospital and work when things got hard and I refused to let you in because I was scared of what it might do to you, to me, to us.”

His hand lifts, moving slowly and casually between the two of you at the words.

“I…thought I was protecting you, protecting us by separating work and home life but all it did was push you away and I…I should have let you in. Should have told you about things at work, how they made me feel. I should have just tried harder. You were always enough and I loved you,”

He doesn’t let the words I still do out of his mouth, though they rest heavy on his tongue. 

“I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for pushing you away and hiding. For keeping secrets and breaking promises. For making you carry not just our relationship but everything by yourself.” 

A tear streaks down your cheek, leaving a layer of salt in your skin and burning like acid through your walls. It’s a crack right down the middle, rubble falling to your feet as they crumble around you. The dark shroud you had held close to your chest vanishes, chased out by a bright golden starburst of colour that instead envelops you like an old friend. It settles right against your ribs, pushes through your hearts and into your blood stream. The old comfortable blanket now wraps fully around your shoulders, warm and comforting and feeling a little bit too much like home to ignore. 

Your eyes soften and you shift closer to Michael, your knees pressing into his thigh and sides as you reach out and take his hands in yours. He lets you pry them apart and as you lace your hands together he looks at you. Face soft, lips turned up in a soft forgiving smile. Warm, welcoming. Home. 

“I forgive you.”

A whisper into the night, another crack of thunder and a deep breath from you both.

“It hurt, sometimes it still does but that old pain is my issue to deal with now, not yours.”

Soft circles rubbed into skin, trembling fingers and shoulders becoming still. Tears streaking both your faces as emotions settle.

“I forgave you that first taco night because I could see the person you’re turning into. In the dad you’re becoming. We’re different people than we were ten years ago Michael. The man I married and the woman you married are gone, not dead. Just…different. We just need to learn who we are again.”

Another minute of silence, a shared breath. A wound closing over, healing. Then there’s rain. A pounding against the glass, a brief summer storm that lasts only a few minutes. It’s cleansing. Like a river washing away the sins of the past. Of course, evidence of them lingers, marred deep into the bones of the earth. Indents and crevices left behind, but forgotten but ready to be filled again with something new. Something potentially beautiful. 

There’s a few moments of silence between you, the rain a metronome to match your beating hearts. A few shared breaths. Then hands reach out to wipe at the others tears. A moment of stillness where you hold each other's face, fingers splayed across jaws and fingers pressing lightly into necks where you can feel pulses jump underneath skin. You breathe together, 4 in, hold, 4 out. Slowly, almost hesitantly you both pull your hands back. 

Then you readjust, your legs uncross but fold under you and too the side as you lean an elbow into the back of the sofa and Michael leans back, shoulder just millimeters away from your elbow, and places a foot on his knee. Tension has leached from you both, there’s softness there now instead.

The rain stops as you reach for your wine and take a drink and Michael reaches for his beer. More silence, soft. Sweet. A clear sky after the storm has passed. Then Michael looks at you, a question brewing on his tongue and you realise it’s the first time since the hospital where you’ve been alone. Where you’ve talked about something other than Isaac or without him around.

He reaches a hand out, picks an invisible bit of lint of the navy paint stain on your shirt and chuckles lightly. You raise an eyebrow at him and smile.

“You know I hunted for this shirt for two weeks after you left the apartment.”

You huff out a small laugh, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Yeah?”

He nods, slow almost melodramatically and something warms inside you.

“Yeah…”

He doesn’t elaborate on why he was looking for it, doesn’t have too. The words are there, dancing in the air. It was because he missed you. Neither of you comment on it. But it opens up the conversation, the first real adult one you’ve had since your dramatic reunion and it’s nothing like you expected.

It’s soft words and almost whispers, questions and answers, stories spilled like whiskey and honey. You’re relearning each other, almost like it’s the first time again. 

You talk about your favourite colours and books and movies, warmth bubbling inside of both of you as memories are swapped from a time before. No venom in the words, but joy and happiness of what was and what could be. You tell him you now strongly dislike, not hate (you were very specific about that) the colour purple because someone in Nevada had ruined it for you, he tells you how he had fallen out of love with one of his old comfort shows after a patient had told him an unsettling fact about the production.

Michael comments on the pristine special editions of Lord of the Rings and you tell him they're simply too precious to ever touch, but he could read them to Isaac if he wanted. He laughed at that and agreed. He comments on the decor, how your tastes have changed and you laugh saying it’s simply more child friendly but you want to get more art and pictures for the walls, especially of Michael and Isaac and even the three of you.

Then you talk about work. Michael telling stories of some wild cases he’s had in the ER, making sure to not mention names or identifying information, one he told was a man who had called his girlfriend after an accident but the nurse had also called his emergency contact who was his wife and the explosive fight that had happened in the trauma bay. How Ahmed and the security team had to force them out and threaten to call the cops, how the divorce papers arrived that same day as well as a break up text from the girlfriend. The girlfriend had come in five months later with the wife by her side and they were thick as thieves. Your eyes bulged at the story and the giggles were pouring out of you along with a ‘good for them’ at the end. 

You tell Michael stories of how you got to where you are now, how a crazy coworker got fired after stalking one of the young interns. The drama and gossip from inter-departmental arguments and affairs, stupid executive decisions and idiot clients. When you told him about how you, very politely, chewed out a client for sexist comments about you and your co-worker he laughed a full belly laugh, hand clutching his stomach as his whole body shook with the force.

“You always were a little spitfire.”

A light shove to his shoulder and an affectionate eye roll from you and then you were both giggling. Then there was silence, the cicadas were brought back to life outside chirping a symphony that seemed almost recognisable. There was a moment, accented by the hoot of an owl, where you both realised you didn’t want the night to end but then the washer played its soft song and you looked at the clock. It was just past midnight and you knew Isaac would be up in only a few hours. 

A deep breath, then a whisper. A delicate thing, soft enough to be heard but not break the atmosphere that had settled.

“We should head to bed.”

As Michael looked at the clock, you realised just how close you had gotten. Your knees now rested on top of Michael’s thigh and you were tucked in close to his chest and his arm was thrown behind you. Lazy, unassuming, but you could still feel his fingers twitch against your shoulder. 

“Yeah, we should.”

But you both make no immediate move to stand up, instead linger together for a few more seconds. Your heart thumps, his breath rattles. You both look at each other's lips, then away again. You want to kiss him, he wants to kiss you but neither of you move. 

A horn blares outside, someone chasing away an animal on the road before a collision you think, and the moment shatters. You clear your throat, standing quickly and moving away from the sofa. There’s another look, somewhere between longing and regret and dangerous emotions you aren’t ready to face yet.

“Goodnight Mikey.”

Michael stands, makes his way to where you stand at the bottom of the stairs just before the alcove for the washer and dryer. His lips quirk and his heart quickens at the old nickname.

“Goodnight spitfire”