#kincare

Two bedrooms waited with doors open like invitations. Levi’s, in shades of blue and gray, had model airplanes suspended from the ceiling. Lila’s room was soft lavender, a galaxy projector glowing faintly on her nightstand beside the plush unicorn propped on her pillow.

Even the bathroom had changed. Once a spare, neutral guest space, it now bore the bright intrusion of childhood, a row of rubber ducks lined on the tub’s edge, along with bottles with cartoon labels, and a stepstool waiting in front of the sink.

It was all so… permanent. And the four-day stretch looming ahead felt like a cruel rehearsal for a play that might never officially open.

A floorboard creaked behind him. Evan stepped up to his side, handing him a mug of coffee. His other arm cradled against his chest, supporting a dozing Liam. He had extended his leave without a second thought. “Four days is a big deal, Tommy. They’ll need time to settle in. I’m not missing it.”

“Any minute,” Evan murmured, barely disturbing the quiet.

Tommy nodded, his throat too tight for words. He took a sip of coffee. This was different from the park, the library, the lunches, and the trip to the children’s museum. Those were two-hour playdates. This was a four-day immersion. These were breakfasts, lunches, dinners. Multiple bedtimes. This could very well be their future.

Evan’s pinky hooked gently around Tommy’s where his hand rested on the windowsill. “Deep breath. We’re ready. We’ve got a few activities lined up, pancake mix and apple juice in the kitchen,” he said, softly patting Liam’s back. “And popcorn for movie nights.”

“Four nights of movies,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head as the weight of it sank in. “What if we pick ones they hate?”

Evan smiled, glancing down at Liam’s sleeping face. “Then we’ll find out what they do like. Isn’t that the point of this? To really get to know them?”

As if on cue, a familiar sedan turned onto the street. Jerry’s car.

Tommy set his coffee mug down on the windowsill as they watched the car pull into the driveway. This time, both back doors opened at once. Levi climbed out, clutching a bulging backpack and a small duffel bag.

Lila emerged, clutching her notebook and the dolly Evan had given her, a small tote bag slung over one arm. Jerry popped the trunk and pulled out a couple of large black trash bags.

The sight made Tommy’s stomach turn.

Levi didn’t bounce toward the house. He stood by the car instead, shoulders hunched beneath the weight of his bags, eyes fixed warily on the house. Lila edged closer until she was nearly pressed to his side.

Jerry said something low, and Levi nodded once before taking her bag in his free hand.

Together, they walked toward the front door like two small soldiers on deployment, braced for unfamiliar territory.

“Four days is too long,” Tommy whispered, panic knotting cold in his gut.

Evan’s hand pressed firm at the small of his back, his chin resting on Tommy’s shoulder. “It's going to be okay, maybe messy and hard,” he admitted. “But it’s also the only way to know if we can do this. And I think we can.”

The doorbell rang, a cheerful chime that felt almost obscene in the heavy quiet.

Tommy crossed the room, Evan a half-step behind him.

Levi and Lila stood on the welcome mat, laden with belongings. Jerry hovered behind them, his smile warm, practiced.

“Hey, guys,” Tommy said, forcing his voice calm, gentle. “Welcome. Let me take those.” He reached for Levi’s duffel.

Levi’s eyes flicked past him, scanning the hall, the living room, the evidence of a life he might have to step into. “You really did finish the wall,” he said, a note of awe breaking through.

“We had some help,” Evan said, shifting Liam against his chest. He crouched slightly. “Hey Lila. You’re just in time for lunch.”

She didn’t speak. Just looked up at Evan, then let her gaze drift to the baby in his arms. A small smile ghosted across her face as she tightened her grip on her backpack.

“We brought our stuff,” Levi announced, his voice smaller than usual. He held his chin up stubbornly, but his eyes flicked with embarrassment and shame. This is everything I have.

Tommy took the duffel bag from him. It was heavier than he expected, the strap biting into his hand. “Come on in,” he said, stepping back to give them a wide berth. “We’ll show you your rooms. Get you unpacked.”

“Some of these you can store in the garage. It’ll make it easier to sort later,” Jerry added, hefting two of the large trash bags up the driveway.

Tommy’s stomach tightened. That’s too much for four days. His eyes flicked from the bags to Jerry, catching the faint crease between the social worker’s brows.

Jerry set them down, glancing at his watch. “Look, I’ll call you Monday, alright? We’ll go over everything then.” His tone was clipped, professional, but his eyes softened when they landed on the kids. “The family they’ve been with… needed a longer break than I expected.”

Evan’s brow crept up. Tommy’s chest pulled tighter.

Jerry turned halfway to the door. “Monday,” he repeated, firmer this time. “We’ll talk. Don’t worry, this isn’t on you. I’ll have a good placement lined up when I pick them up Tuesday. For now, just… have a good weekend.” He gave a quick wave.

And then he was gone, leaving the trash bags and everything they implied sitting in the middle of the living room.

Lila followed. She didn’t look at the room. Her eyes were fixed on Evan, or more specifically, on the baby nestled in the crook of his arm.

“Hey, Lila,” Evan said softly, crouching down. “Liam’s been waiting to see you. He missed you.”

Lila’s grip on her dolly tightened. She took a half-step closer, her free hand coming up to hover near Liam’s swaddled feet. She didn’t touch, just watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“He’s so cuties,” she whispered.

Evan’s smile tugged wide, his hand adjusting gently on Liam’s back. “Yeah, he is.”

Levi dropped his backpack onto the couch and was already peering down the hallway. “Which one’s mine?” he asked, his earlier wariness giving way to a spark of curiosity.

“Right this way,” Tommy said, he pushed open the first door on the left. “We thought you might like this one. It’s got a better view of the backyard. You can see the swing set.”

Levi stepped inside and froze. His eyes went wide, traveling from the model planes and helicopters hanging above the bed to the new bookshelf, then to the deep blue comforter.

“Whoa.” His voice came out in a breath. He dropped the duffel with a soft thud and walked straight to the shelf, fingers brushing reverently over the spines. “Magic Tree House, Mouse on a Motorcycle, Percy Jackson… you got me the whole series.”

“The first five,” Tommy corrected gently, leaning against the doorframe. His mouth curved despite the knot still in his chest. “Evan insisted, he's excited.”

Levi didn’t answer. He was already pulling out The Lightning Thief, his thumb rubbing over the cover like it was something precious.

Across the hall, Evan guided Lila into her room. “We heard you liked stars,” he said, nodding toward the galaxy projector on the nightstand.

Lila’s eyes went round. She placed her dolly and tote bag carefully on the lavender bedspread before approaching the projector.

“It makes the whole ceiling look like the night sky,” Evan explained. “It can stay on as long as you want.”

For the first time, Lila lifted her gaze to meet his. A silent question shimmered in her wide blue eyes.

“Promise,” Evan swore. “There will be no dark, here.”

Lila reached out with trembling fingers and pressed the button. A wash of stars spilled across the lavender ceiling, constellations whirling softly in shades of blue, greens and gold. Her breath caught; then she let out the smallest sound of wonder, clutching her dolly tight as her whole face lit with awe.

They stood together quietly, both gazing up, taking in the dancing galaxy, until Evan softly said, "It'll be here whenever you want it." He gave her a moment longer before adding, "Ready to see the rest?" She nodded, finally pulling her eyes from the ceiling to take his offered hand.

The tour continued, the bathroom, the kitchen where Evan had already laid out ingredients for lunch, the living room with the big TV. The kids were quiet, absorbing it all, their initial nervousness slowly being replaced by a cautious fascination.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Grilled cheese sandwiches, strawberry slices and tomato soup. Levi ate with a focused intensity, finishing two sandwiches before sitting back with a contented sigh. Lila was more meticulous, carefully dipping tiny corner pieces of her sandwich into the soup and eating them one by one.

Tommy was loading the dishwasher while Evan wiped down the table. Levi was showing Lila how to fold a paper airplane out of a napkin when his elbow clipped his glass of milk.

The glass hit the tile with a sharp crash, shattering into a dozen pieces. Milk splattered across the floor, sprayed up the cabinets, soaked into Lila’s clean socks.

Levi’s face drained of color. His eyes went wide with panic, darting from the mess to Tommy and back again. His breath hitched. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words choked with terror. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll clean it, I’ll… I’ll pay for it.”

He scrambled backward, as if distance could undo the crime. His chest rose and fell too fast. This wasn’t about spilled milk. This was about punishment. About being too clumsy, too loud, too much.

Lila shrank back in her chair, curling her knees to her chest, milk dripping from her socks as she made herself small.

For a moment, Tommy froze too, the sound of breaking glass echoing a hundred other broken things from his own childhood. He saw the flinch in Levi’s shoulders and something cold lit in his gut.

Not this time. Not in his house.

“Levi,” Tommy said, his voice calm and even. “Breathe. It’s okay. It’s just milk. It’s just a glass.”

Levi stared at him. “But… it broke.”

“Things break,” Tommy said with a shrug. He walked to the pantry and grabbed the roll of paper towels. He didn’t hand it to Levi. He knelt and started sopping up the milk himself. “It’s not a big deal. Ev, can you grab the dustpan?”

Evan was already moving, his expression carefully neutral. “On it.”

Levi just stood there, shaking, watching Tommy clean up his mess. The expected explosion, the yelling never started.

“Accidents happen,” Tommy said, not looking up from his task. “That’s why we have paper towels and dustpans. The important thing is that no one got hurt.” He glanced up at Levi. “You okay? Didn’t get any glass on you?”

Levi shook his head, his lower lip trembling. He wasn’t crying, but he was close.

Evan returned with the brush and dustpan and efficiently swept up the shards. “All clear,” he announced, dumping the glass into the trash. He looked at Lila’s socks. “Let’s get you some new socks, Lila. I think we might even have some with dinosaurs on them.”

Tommy stood up, tossing the soggy paper towels away. He clapped a hand gently on Levi’s shoulder. “You’re all right,” Tommy murmured. “Really. You’re all right.”

Levi nodded, swallowing hard. He looked from the clean floor to Tommy’s face, the fear melted into a dazed, bewildered sort of trust.

The afternoon sun was warm on their backs.

Levi was on the swings, pumping his legs with a fierce determination, trying to go higher than seemed physically possible for an eight-year-old. “Look, Tommy!” he yelled, his earlier fear forgotten in the pure joy of motion.

Tommy, pushing Lila on the other swing at a gentler pace, grinned. “I see you! Don’t jump, though. We just fixed the lawn.”

From his post on the patio steps, Evan watched with Liam nestled in the crook of his arm. Liam’s small fists pressed into his chest as he suckled the bottle. Evan stepped off the porch to pass a water bottle to Levi, then reached out to straighten the swing chain when Lila’s twisted.

Lila wasn’t swinging high. She preferred to lay over the swing on her belly and gently glide, pretending she was flying. With each forward pass, she’d look up at Tommy, a small, secret smile playing on her lips. On the backward swing, her eyes would find Evan, as if checking to make sure he was still there.

After a while, Levi jumped off the swing mid-arc, tumbling into a roll on the grass and popping up with a grass-stained grin. “I’m hungry,” he announced, as if he hadn’t just consumed two grilled cheese sandwiches.

“You’re always hungry,” Tommy said, as Lila gently brought her swing to a stop, dragging her toes.

“I’m a growing boy,” Levi declared, puffing out his chest. “Mrs. Shelby said so.”

Evan stood, shifting Liam to his shoulder. “Well, growing boys and girls need snacks. Who wants to help me make ants on a log?”

Levi’s nose wrinkled. “Actual ants?”

“What? No,” Evan laughed. “Celery, peanut butter, and raisins. It looks like ants on a log.”

Levi considered this, nodding in thought. “Okay. But only if I can put extra ants.”

The kitchen became a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Evan passed Liam off to Tommy then distributed celery stalks. Levi attacked his with a thick layer of peanut butter, while Lila carefully spread hers with painstaking delicacy.

“More ants!” Levi demanded, and Tommy poured a pile into his waiting, sticky hand.

Lila held up her finished log. The peanut butter was smooth and even, the raisins placed in a neat, single file line down the center.

“That’s a work of art, Lila,” Tommy said. "You followed Evan exactly."

They ate their snacks at the kitchen island, celery crunching loudly. Liam gurgled, kicking his feet, entertained by the show.

It was during this peaceful moment that Levi, peanut butter smudged on his cheek, looked at Evan. “So, do you get to drive the fire truck?”

Evan grinned. “Sometimes. But mostly I ride in the back. I’m the guy who jumps out with the hose.”

Levi’s eyes lit. “Like straight into the fire?”

“Pretty much.”

Lila perked up, whispering around a mouthful of raisins, “That’s scary.”

Evan’s smile softened. “It can be. But that’s why we train. And why we work in teams, no one goes in alone.”

Levi turned to Tommy. “And you… you fly the helicopter.”

Tommy dipped his celery into peanut butter, trying not to look too pleased. “That’s right.”

“Do you have buttons? Like… a hundred?” Levi asked, hands already miming toggles in the air.

“More like a thousand,” Tommy said with mock seriousness. “Half of them beep. The other half yell at me if I press them too fast.”

Evan snorted into his water. “That explains a lot.”

Levi giggled. “Do you get to shoot missiles?”

Tommy hesitated. Once upon a time… But his smile never faltered. He arched a brow, leaning into the joke instead. “No missiles,” he said. “Just water. Lots and lots of water.”

“Lame,” Levi declared, grinning.

“I’ll remember that the next time I’m saving your fort from burning down,” Tommy shot back.

Evan leaned back, licking peanut butter off his thumb. “See, that’s the difference between us. Tommy thinks about saving forts. I’m more concerned about who’s gonna clean this kitchen when you guys are done with it.” He held up his sticky hands.

Lila giggled into her sleeve, the sound so light it made Evan’s chest ache.

By Sunday night, the long weekend had softened into a rhythm of its own. The house felt fuller, warmer, like it had stretched to fit them all. They built a fortress of couch cushions and blankets in the living room, laughter echoing as it grew taller and wobblier by the minute. Lila curled inside with her notebook, sketching quietly as Bluey played on the television. Tommy, though, found himself watching with an almost rapt attention, his brow furrowed, a soft smile tugging at his lips every now and again.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the energy levels finally dipped. Levi’s yawns became more frequent.

Evan caught Tommy’s eye and nodded toward the hallway. “Alright, crew. Bath time. Then, pajamas. Then… How to Train your Dragon.”

Levi, who moments before had been slumping against a cushion, perked up immediately. “The whole book?”

“Maybe not the whole book,” Evan said, herding them toward the bathroom. “But maybe a chapter or two.”

The bedtime ritual was smoother this time. The novelty had worn off, replaced by a budding routine. Teeth were brushed. Faces were washed. Lila’s galaxy projector was turned on, casting a soft, swirling nebula across her ceiling.

Finally, they gathered in the living room. The fort had been dismantled, the cushions returned to the couch. Evan settled into the big recliner. Levi, in his dinosaur pajamas, immediately climbed up and tucked himself under one arm. Lila, in her unicorn onesie, was slower to curl up on his other side, her head finding the spot on his shoulder.

Tommy dimmed the lights and sat on the couch opposite them. Liam was already asleep in his crib.

Evan opened the book. His voice softened into a warm rhythm. He did voices for Hiccup and Toothless, and Levi giggled sleepily into his chest.

Tommy watched them. He watched Evan’s free hand gently rub Lila’s back as he read. He watched Levi’s eyes grow heavy, his breathing deepen. He watched the way the two children seemed to melt into Evan, seeking the safety he so freely gave.

Evan read about dragons and Vikings and friendship in the dim room. Levi’s head grew heavier on his chest. Lila’s fingers, which had been clutching her dolly, went slack.

As Evan set the book down on the end table, the motion caused Levi to stir. He didn’t open his eyes. He just nuzzled deeper into Evan’s shirt and murmured, his voice thick and fuzzy with sleep,

“Can we stay here forever, Dad?”

The word Dad lingered in the air.

Evan’s breath hitched, the thumb that had been tracing slow circles on Lila’s back suddenly still. His gaze dropped to the top of Levi’s head, and his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Bending low, he pressed a kiss into his hair. “Bud… we’ll have to talk to Jerry.”

It was the only honest answer he could give. Not a no. Not even a maybe. Just an I want to, caught in middle of everything he wasn’t allowed to promise.

Lila blinked her eyes open, Levi and Lila traded a look. She sighed and opened her notebook and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. It was worn, like it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times.

Without a word, she pressed it into Evan’s hand.

Then she closed her eyes again and buried her face into the crook of his arm.

Evan slowly, carefully, unfolded the paper.

It was torn from a lined notebook, the words pressed hard into the page in uneven purple crayon.

Plez luve us.

Wrapped around the messy letters, was a wobbly heart only small hands could make.

Evan’s face crumpled as he traced the uneven letters. A tear slipped free, carving a path down his cheek before falling onto the page, smudging the purple crayon just slightly. He folded his hand over the note, bowing his head as his shoulders shook.

Tommy was across the room in an instant. He didn’t speak. He just knelt beside the chair, his hand settling on Evan’s knee. With his other, he reached out to brush the hair gently back from Lila’s forehead, then from Levi’s. His gaze dropped to Evan’s hand, to the crumpled paper.

Evan loosened his grip just enough for Tommy to see. Purple crayon. Uneven letters.

The words hit, and Tommy’s throat closed, his own vision blurring. He looked back up at Evan’s tear-streaked face and knew there weren’t any answers big enough, any promises strong enough except the one already written in shaky, desperate scrawl.

He took in the three of them: the man he loved, broken open by a child’s plea, and the two kids who had already become theirs.

Tommy knew.

They weren’t just going to talk to Jerry. They were going to bring him the note.