Page 28

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Christian

T he arcade is exactly the kind of chaotic fun I remember from when I was a kid. The flashing lights, the sound of coins clinking in machines, and the laughter of kids running from one game to the next. Finley’s eyes are wide with excitement as we walk in, and he immediately pulls me toward the row of racing games.

“Come on, Dad! Let’s race!”

I chuckle as we sit side by side, and Finley picks the biggest, flashiest car on the screen while I opt for something more modest. Not that it matters — I’m going to let him win, anyway.

The race starts, and Finley is a bundle of energy beside me, leaning into every turn as if he’s really driving. I keep pace with him, but I make sure to fall behind just enough so that he crosses the finish line first.

“I won!” he shouts, jumping out of his seat and pumping his fist in the air. “I beat you, Dad!”

Laughing at his enthusiasm, I get up from my seat and give him a high-five. “You sure did, buddy. You’re a natural.”

We spend the next couple of hours bouncing from game to game — basketball hoops, skeeball, even a few rounds of air hockey. By the time we’re done, we’ve racked up a decent amount of tickets, which Finley exchanges for a bag full of candy that Maya is probably going to hate.

As we leave the arcade and head out to get lunch, I can’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over me. This is what it’s all about. Spending time with my son, being there for him in ways I wasn’t before.

When we arrive at the park, the afternoon sun is casting long shadows across the grass, and the air is filled with the sound of children playing and birds chirping. Finley runs ahead to the jungle gym, and I follow at a slower pace, watching him climb up the bars with the energy of a kid who just had too much sugar. I couldn’t help it. I let him have three pieces of candy after lunch.

As he plays, I sit on a nearby bench, my thoughts drifting. I think about how far we’ve come — me, Maya, Finley. We’re not perfect, and we’ve still got a long way to go, but for the first time in a long while, I feel like we’re headed in the right direction.

I’m committed to this. To be the father Finley deserves and the partner Maya needs. And it won’t be easy — I know there will still be challenges and times when it feels like everything could fall apart again once I’m in a different state. But I’m not going to let that happen. Not this time.

As I watch Finley swing from the monkey bars, laughing and calling out to the other kids, I feel something inside me shift. It’s a deep sense of peace, the kind that settles into your bones and lets you know that, even with all the chaos and uncertainty, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Finley glances back at me from across the playground, his face flushed with excitement. “Dad! Look at me!” he shouts, waving his arms dramatically as he lets go of the monkey bars and jumps down to the ground.

I give him a thumbs-up, smiling as he runs over to a group of kids who are playing tag. He fits in so easily, so naturally, and it’s moments like this that make me realize just how much he’s grown even since the first day I met him.

I settle back on the bench, watching him play, and my thoughts inevitably drift back to Maya. She’s been through so much, carrying the weight of raising Finley practically on her own. She’s made mistakes, like not telling me sooner that she had our son, or letting me share the news with Finley, but I know she did those things to protect him, and herself. It may have sucked, but it was the right thing for her to do until I proved myself to her.

I had to prove to myself I could be a decent father, too. And I want to be the man who’s always there for his family, the one who steps up when things get tough instead of running away. I want to give Finley the kind of childhood he deserves, one where he knows without a doubt that his dad loves him and is always going to be there for him.

As the sun heats up the day, casting a warm golden light over the park, Finley runs back over to me, breathless and grinning. “Dad, can we get ice cream before we go to the pool?” he asks, bouncing on his toes in excitement.

I ruffle his hair, knowing this will be the best time to tell him I’m leaving. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s go find the ice cream truck.”

We walk together, hand in hand, toward the truck parked near the park’s entrance. The line is short, and within a few minutes, Finley is happily licking away at a chocolate cone, his face smeared with the sticky sweetness. I opt for a vanilla cone, then we sit down on a nearby bench to enjoy our treat.

As Finley eats his ice cream, his eyes flick up to mine, thoughtful. “Dad?” he asks between licks. “After you leave…you’re going to come back again, right?”

The question hits me square in the chest. It’s going to be even harder to tell him I have to leave.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” I say softly. “I will definitely be back. And you and your mom can come visit me soon. I have to go back to North Carolina to start training for the hockey season tomorrow, but even when I’m not here in town, right beside you, I promise I’ll still be close enough to come whenever you need me, okay? I’m just a phone call away.”

He nods, satisfied with my answer, and goes back to his ice cream. But the weight of the promise I just made settles over me like a heavy blanket. It’s not something I take lightly. I’ve rarely made promises before, and this one I’m going to keep.

After we finish our ice cream, we walk back toward the car and go to the local pool to swim. Some of Finley’s friends from the neighborhood are there, so they take turns jumping off the diving board to see who can make the biggest splash. I swear my son can swim better than I can.

When we get back to the house, Maya is in the kitchen, her hair pulled back and her hands busy with something on the stove. She looks up when we walk in, her eyes lighting up at the sight of us.

“I missed you two,” she says with a smile, wiping her hands on a towel. Finley runs over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Looks like you had fun.”

“We did,” I say, giving her a warm smile in return. “Arcade, lunch, park, ice cream, and pool. The whole package. Oh, and a few pieces of candy.” I offer her the bag. “Next time, maybe you’ll come with us?”

“Mommy, Dad said he’s got to leave for training, but he promised that he’ll come back again,” Finley tells Maya.

Maya’s eyes meet mine over his head, and for a moment, the air between us is heavy with unspoken words. She gives Finley a soft smile, stroking his hair. “I know he will,” she says quietly. “And we’ll go visit him and Uncle Preston soon.”

There’s a tension in the room, but it’s not the kind that feels like everything’s about to fall apart. No, it’s more like feeling something good is going to happen, but you don’t know when, so you just have to be patient and wait for it.

Later that evening, after Finley has been put to bed, I join Maya on the sofa. She’s curled up beside me, her head resting on my shoulder, and I can feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing against my side. It’s such a small, ordinary thing that feels good.

It’s moments like this that remind me of the times we had before everything fell apart — the quiet moments when we were dating, the ones where we didn’t need to say anything because we already understood each other.

“He’s going to miss you so much,” Maya’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but there’s a weight to her words.

I tilt my head to look down at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Yeah, I’m going to miss him too,” I say, my voice just as quiet. “And you. You and Finley are my world now. Even if I’m not here with you, you’re with me.”

Maya doesn’t say anything for a while, but I can feel her relax a little more against me, like maybe — just maybe — she’s starting to believe me. Starting to believe in us again.

“I was thinking,” I begin, my voice hesitant, “maybe we could plan a weekend trip. Just the three of us. Somewhere close, nothing too fancy. Just… some time away together before Finley starts school. What do you think?”

Maya lifts her head, her eyes searching mine. “A trip? Just the three of us?”

“Yeah,” I nod. I need something to look forward to now that the summer is ending. “I think it would be good for us. To get away, spend some time together before the season starts too.”

She looks at me for a long moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I guess it depends on if I get the job or not, but if we can make it work, then I’d really like that,” she says finally, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think Finley would love it, too.”

Leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ll start looking into it tomorrow.”

The next morning, I wake up early, my mind already buzzing with ideas for our trip. It’s a small thing, really, but it feels like the first step toward something bigger, like we’re a family.

I head downstairs, making a mental list of places we could go — somewhere with a beach, maybe, or a cabin in the mountains. I’m not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out. All that matters is that we will get to spend some uninterrupted time together, just like we did this summer.

As I sip my coffee, I hear the sound of small footsteps, and I look up to see Finley standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Morning, buddy,” I say with a smile, setting my mug down. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” he mumbles, shuffling over to throw his arms around me, giving me a hug. “I didn’t know if you would say bye before you left.” He rests his head against my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

“Of course I’m going to say goodbye to you. I don’t have to leave until late this afternoon.”

“Okay, good.”

“And don’t tell anyone if I cry a little, okay? I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he agrees. “Is it okay if I cry because I’m going to miss you, too?”

“Absolutely.” I press a kiss to the top of Finley’s head, my heart full.

I just wish I could have it all – Finley, Maya, and hockey all at the same time. Then my life would be perfect.