Page 51

I follow Abbie into our room, Tyson settled on my hip, his little hands gripping my shirt tightly.

His head rests against my shoulder, and despite everything, he seems oddly content.

If only she had told me I would have got him for her; she never would have had to go to Kade.

It’s hard to believe this little boy, who Abbie clung to so fiercely in her heart, is finally with her again. And now, he’s with us. Our son.

The word feels strange but right. Our son.

Abbie flicks on the bathroom light and kneels by the tub, turning on the tap.

The soft sound of running water fills the room, and steam starts to rise as she tests the temperature with her fingers.

Tyson wriggles slightly in my arms, and I glance down at him.

His eyes are fixated on the water, his little fingers flexing, opening and closing in an almost squeezing motion.

It’s subtle, but I can see the excitement in him.

“He likes water,” Abbie murmurs without looking up, her voice calm and sure. “It calms him.”

I step closer, lowering Tyson into her waiting arms. She scoops him up effortlessly, holding him to her chest for a moment before gently setting him down on the bathmat.

He sits still, his head tilted slightly as he watches the water fill the tub, his fingers tapping lightly against his knees.

I can’t help but notice how attuned she is to his every movement, every tiny sound he makes.

Abbie carefully tugs his little shirt over his head, and he grunts softly, tapping his hand twice against the floor when his head gets stuck.

Without missing a beat, she pauses and whispers, “Okay, okay, I know. You don’t like that.

” She switches tactics, loosening the shirt more slowly before slipping it off with less fuss.

Tyson grunts again, this time softer, almost as if he’s acknowledging her effort.

I watch in quiet amazement as she works, the two of them locked in a silent conversation only they seem to understand. Every grunt, every flick of his fingers, every tilt of his head—Abbie knows what it means, responding instinctively without hesitation.

She crouches lower, her eyes level with his as she gently brushes his hair back from his face. “You’re safe now, baby. Mama’s got you,” she whispers softly, kissing his curls. Tyson doesn’t respond in words—but he leans into her touch.

I lean against the doorframe, folding my arms as I watch her with him. She doesn’t just love this boy—she understands him, in a way that goes beyond words. It’s like they share their own secret language.

“You thought he was dead,” I say quietly, breaking the silence.

Abbie nods without turning around. “Mrs. Daley… she said she killed him when he was a baby; I raised him but when I left, I thought for sure she would.”

Her words hit me harder than I expect. I can’t imagine the kind of strength it took for her to endure what she did, clinging to the hope of finding this boy again, even when everything pointed to the contrary.

Kade used that hope to get her to go with him, dangling it like a cruel carrot, knowing she’d do anything for this child.

And now, here he is—alive, whole, and in her arms.

Tyson wriggles slightly as she pulls off the rest of his clothes, but he doesn’t resist. Instead, he grunts softly again, tapping his fingers twice against his leg, and Abbie immediately understands.

“I know, baby. Just a minute more,” she soothes, turning off the tap before lifting him carefully into the tub. The moment he’s in the water, his entire body relaxes, and he lets out a soft hum, his fingers swirling in the warm water.

“He always liked baths,” Abbie says with a small smile, her eyes never leaving Tyson.

“When he was a baby, it was the only time he’d stop crying, when he had colic.

I’d stand at the sink with him for hours just to keep him calm because Mrs. Daley rarely let us use the bathtub, so I had to use the kitchen sink.

Said she wouldn’t waste water on whining baby.

” She dips a small cup into the water and gently pours it over his head, careful not to get any in his eyes.

Tyson hums again, tilting his head slightly, and Abbie responds by rubbing his shoulder gently, as if she knows exactly what he’s asking for. “You like that, huh?” she murmurs, her voice soft and affectionate. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

I don’t say anything, too caught up in the scene in front of me. The way she interacts with him—so patient, so understanding. She doesn’t need words to communicate with him. She knows him, truly knows him, in a way only a mother could.

Tyson splashes the water lightly with his hands, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile, and it’s enough to make something in my chest tighten.

He may not speak, but he doesn’t need to.

Everything he feels is written in his movements, in the way he looks at her, in the way he relaxes completely in her presence.

“Has he always been non-verbal?” I ask gently, not wanting to disrupt the calm moment or upset her.

Abbie nods. “Yes, but Ivy and I can understand him by the way he moves his hands and fingers, also the sound of his cries and the grunting sounds he makes,” she trails off, her expression darkening slightly.

I glance down at Tyson, who’s now tapping his fingers rhythmically against the edge of the tub, humming quietly to himself.

After a few more minutes, Abbie drains the tub and wraps Tyson in a large towel, holding him close as she dries him off. He leans against her, completely at ease, and she murmurs soft reassurances in his ear, rubbing his back in slow circles.

As I watch them, I realize something I hadn’t fully grasped until now: this isn’t just about Abbie wanting Tyson back—this is about her finally having the family she always dreamed of. And now, it’s our family.

“Do you want me to take him?” I offer as she carries him back into the bedroom.

She glances at me, a hint of hesitation in her eyes before she finally nods. “Okay.”

I step forward and gently take Tyson from her arms. He looks up at me with those wide, curious eyes. For a moment, I’m not sure what to do, but then he leans his head against my chest, his little fingers gripping my shirt tightly.

“You’re safe now,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

Abbie watches us silently, tears shining in her eyes, and I know without a doubt she was worried I wouldn’t let her keep him.