Page 44 of After the Rain

TWENTY-ONE

AFTER THE RAIN

WADE

I unlocked my front door with Cooper's hand in mine and Ezra's arm around my waist, the three of us returning home together as an officially recognized family.

The house that had felt like a tomb just days ago now buzzed with life and laughter as Cooper raced through rooms, rediscovering his toys and belongings like a kid returning from summer camp.

"We're really home," I murmured to Ezra, still hardly believing our victory was real.

"We're really home," he agreed, pressing a kiss to my temple.

Cooper appeared in the doorway clutching his favorite dinosaur, the one he'd left behind when Sarah took him to her parents' house. "Daddy, did you miss me while I was gone?"

"I missed everything about you being here, buddy."

"Even my mess in the living room?"

"Especially your mess in the living room."

The relief of having Cooper back, of having our family whole again, felt almost overwhelming. I'd gotten so used to the constant anxiety, the hollow ache of his absence, that his presence now seemed too good to be true.

Dinner preparation became an impromptu celebration as friends and supporters stopped by with food, flowers, and congratulations. Jazz arrived first, carrying steaks for the grill and wearing the biggest grin I'd ever seen on her face.

"Victory barbecue," she announced, pushing past us into the kitchen. "Hope you boys are hungry because half the town is coming over to celebrate."

Brook appeared next with champagne and that satisfied expression she wore when one of her plans worked exactly as intended. "I told you we'd win," she said, popping the cork with practiced ease. "Community organizing beats institutional prejudice every time."

Sarah arrived with Cooper's favorite chocolate cake from the bakery downtown, tears of joy streaming down her face as she watched her son bounce around the kitchen, animated and happy in ways he hadn't been during his stay with her parents.

"He's himself again," she said quietly, watching Cooper demonstrate his latest LEGO creation to anyone who would listen. "God, Wade, I'm so sorry it took me so long to see what my parents were doing to him."

"You came through when it mattered," I told her. "That's what counts."

The kitchen overflowed with people who had fought for our family's right to exist. Neighbors who'd signed petitions, teachers who'd testified on our behalf, parents who'd organized letter-writing campaigns.

Each person carried stories of their own growth, their own journey toward understanding and acceptance.

Mrs. Patterson pulled me aside while Ezra helped Cooper arrange dinosaurs on the coffee table.

"I need to tell you something," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"When I first heard about you and Ezra, I'll admit I was.

.. uncertain. Not because I disapproved, but because I didn't understand.

But watching you two together, seeing how happy Cooper is, how much love you've built in this house—you've taught my whole family about what real love looks like. "

These conversations kept happening throughout the evening. People approaching with confessions of their own prejudices overcome, their own growth inspired by watching our family fight for the right to exist authentically.

Cooper's bedtime routine that night included both his father and Ezra, as it should be, as it always should have been. We read three stories—Cooper's choice—and took turns doing voices for different characters until he was giggling so hard he could barely catch his breath.

"Are we safe now?" Cooper asked softly.

The question hit me harder than I'd expected. How do you explain legal victories and social change to a child who'd just spent weeks wondering if loving people was wrong?

"Yes, buddy," I said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "We're safe, we're together, and we're home."

"For real this time?"

"For real this time."

Ezra leaned down to kiss Cooper's forehead. "Sweet dreams, kiddo."

"I love you, Papa Ezra."

The casual use of "Papa" made Ezra's eyes fill with tears.

After Cooper fell asleep, Ezra and I ended up on the front porch swing that Jazz had installed. The summer evening was perfect—fireflies dancing in the yard, the sound of our neighbors' lives continuing around us, the peace that comes from knowing you're exactly where you belong.

"I love you," I said, the words carrying new weight after nearly losing everything. "I love our family. I love the life we've built together."

"Even after everything we went through?"

"Especially after everything we went through. The fight was worth it, Ezra."

I was quiet for a moment, thinking about the secret I'd been carrying, the surprise that had been eating at me for days now. With the custody battle behind us and our family officially recognized, it was time to take the next step.

"There's something I need to tell you," I said, taking his hand. "Something I've been planning."

Ezra turned to face me fully, his expression curious but cautious. "What kind of something?"

"Remember the Victorian house? The one I showed you?"

"Of course I remember. You told me you'd been dreaming about our future there."

"Well, I wasn't just dreaming anymore. I've been working with Jazz and the bank.

All those new contracts from people who supported us through the trial?

They paid better than I expected. Combined with selling this house.

.." I paused, my heart racing with excitement and nerves.

"We can afford to make it real, Ezra. We can actually move to the house. "

His eyes widened. "Wade, are you serious?"

"Dead serious. I've been finishing the renovation work, getting everything ready. Cooper's room is painted in those blues and greens we picked out. The kitchen is complete. Even started marking out where we'll put the garden beds you wanted."

"Does Cooper know?"

"That's the best part. He has no idea. All those weekend projects I've been working on? He thinks I've just been doing contract work. But tomorrow, I want to surprise him. Show him his new room and everything.”

Ezra was quiet for a long moment, and I felt my stomach clench with sudden worry. "You do want this, right? I mean, I know we talked about it, but if you've changed your mind?—"

"Wade." He cut me off with a kiss that tasted like promise and joy and the future we'd fought so hard to secure. "Of course I want this. I want everything we talked about in that backyard. I want to plant vegetables and build treehouses and make that house into our home."

"So you're in?"

"I'm in. We're in. All the way."

Tomorrow we'd show Cooper his new home. Tomorrow we'd start building the life we'd dreamed about in that backyard, surrounded by oak trees and possibility.

A year ago, I'd been living someone else's life, going through the motions, slowly dying inside. Now I knew exactly who I was and what I wanted: this man beside me, our son down the hall, and the home we were going to build together.

The next morning brought the kind of peaceful domestic routine I'd dreamed about during the darkest moments of our custody battle. Cooper bounced around the kitchen while Ezra made his lunch, both of them completely unaware of the surprise waiting for them.

"Dad, can I have extra cookies today?" Cooper asked, watching Ezra cut his sandwich into dinosaur shapes.

"It's Papa Ezra's call," I said, grinning at how naturally Cooper moved between us for different permissions.

"Papa Ezra's the soft touch anyway," Cooper added with seven-year-old confidence.

"I heard that," Ezra said, but he added an extra cookie to the lunch box anyway.

I caught Ezra's eye across the kitchen and felt that familiar flutter of excitement about our secret. Tonight, after school, we'd take Cooper to see his new home. Tonight, we'd start the next chapter of our story.

"Hey buddy," I said to Cooper as he finished his breakfast. "How would you feel about taking a drive after school today? Maybe going to see something special?"

Cooper's eyes lit up with the kind of curiosity that made parenting both wonderful and terrifying. "What kind of special?"

"The kind you'll love," I said, hoping I was right. "But no more questions until then, deal?"

"Deal," Cooper said, though his expression suggested he'd be spending the entire school day trying to guess what we were up to.

After dropping Cooper off at school, Ezra and I drove out to the Victorian house to do a final walk-through. I wanted everything to be perfect for Cooper’s first real look at what would become our home.

The school had offered Ezra a few personal days—time to rest, to recover, to breathe after everything the custody hearing had taken out of him. He hadn’t asked, but they’d insisted, and for once, he’d let someone take care of him without protest.

They’d offered Cooper the day off, too, but he’d practically skipped out the door with his backpack. “We’re doing butterfly science today,” he’d said, eyes wide. “I can’t miss butterfly day.”

The house sat beautiful and welcoming in the morning sunlight, its white clapboard freshly painted, the wraparound porch sturdy and inviting.

All the renovation work was complete now—new roof, updated electrical, refinished hardwood floors throughout.

But it was still empty, waiting for us to fill it with our lives.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Ezra said, his voice quiet as we walked through the rooms that would soon hold our furniture, our memories, our future.

"Believe it," I said, pulling him close in what would be our living room. "This is us, Ezra. This is our home."

We spent the morning planning where everything would go, measuring spaces, discussing paint colors for the rooms we hadn't finished yet.

But mostly, we just stood in each room and imagined our life there—Cooper doing homework at the kitchen table, family dinners in the dining room, quiet evenings on the front porch.