Page 2

I follow her to the door at the end of the hallway with Tony’s name on it. She knocks twice before opening it, motioning me inside.

“Thanks,” I say.

“My pleasure,” she replies with a smile.

I step inside and spot Tony at his desk across the large office. His salt-and-pepper hair is combed to the side, and his shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit. He looks up, his expression solemn as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He waves toward the chair opposite him. “Glad you’re here, Mr. Harding. Although I wish it were under better circumstances. Please have a seat.”

I sit down, crossing one leg over the other. “Has Caleb arrived yet?”

He nods. “He’s in the conference room with his social worker. I wanted to review a few important matters with you before we join him. I’ll make it as quick as possible.”

“I appreciate it.”

I understand we have to go over the logistics, but sitting here while my son waits in a nearby room makes me feel like I’m already letting him down .

Tony opens a desk drawer, takes out a thick binder, and sets it on his desk.

“I must admit, I’m impressed,” he tells me.

“You move fast. I’ve been on the phone with your lawyer, Mr. Tate, a dozen times already.

” He opens the binder, glancing down at the first page.

“I’m not sure how he did it, but he got a judge to grant temporary emergency guardianship.

You’ll just have to meet with the social worker and give her a virtual tour of your residence. ”

“Does that mean I can take Caleb home tonight?” I question.

He nods. “As long as the social worker approves, I don’t see why not. A formal hearing will be scheduled in the coming months to grant permanent custody if all parties agree and the court finds it in Caleb’s best interest to remain with you.”

“You haven’t mentioned Amelia’s family. Are they involved?” My biggest concern on the way here was that someone might challenge my guardianship or petition the court for custody.

Tony shakes his head. “Her parents are deceased, and she was an only child.” He flips to the back of the binder, pulls out a document, and slides it toward me.

“She listed a second cousin from Florida and a college friend as secondary guardians in case you declined, but we haven’t been able to reach them. ”

“Has Caleb met either?”

“I don’t believe so.”

A sharp ringing pulses through my ears and a cold sweat breaks across my forehead. Even though I had made up my mind before coming here that I wanted Caleb, it’s hard to accept that he has no one else. Now I understand why he was placed in temporary foster care. There wasn’t another option.

Tony takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “There is one more thing I need to tell you before you meet Caleb.”

I straighten in my chair, my brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“He hasn’t spoken since Amelia was admitted to the hospital two weeks ago.

” Tony’s voice falters, betraying the sadness beneath his professional exterior.

“The social worker mentioned that some children stop talking as a way to cope with the trauma. Right now, his silence is the only thing that he can control. It’s likely temporary, but it could take time for him to trust that it’s safe enough to use his voice again. ”

Tears sting my eyes at the thought of my son carrying his pain alone, too heartbroken to speak.

The hardest part is that I may never know what Amelia told him about me or if she even mentioned me at all.

For all I know, he thinks I didn’t want him or wasn’t interested in meeting him, which is the furthest thing from the truth.

“I’d like to see him now if I can,” I say.

“Of course.” Tony nods. “Let’s go to the conference room.”

I’m about to meet my son. One I didn’t know existed until today.

I follow Tony into the conference room, my eyes going straight to Caleb seated on the other side of the large table.

He’s holding a stuffed dinosaur against his chest, and when his big brown eyes meet mine, my heart skips a beat.

The photo didn’t come close to capturing just how much he looks like me.

His shoulders are slumped, weighed down by a sorrow no child should have to handle on their own.

A woman with a blonde bob and wearing a powder-blue suit, sits beside him with a clipboard in front of her. I assume she’s the social worker, so I offer a polite nod. There will be time for us to talk, but my priority is to meet my son and ensure he feels safe around me.

Caleb’s lower lip quivers as I settle in the chair on the other side of him.

“Hey, buddy,” I say softly. “I’m Jensen. It’s really nice to meet you. ”

He blinks, his small hands squeezing the dinosaur tighter, gripping it like a lifeline.

“How are you doing?” I instantly wince when the words leave my mouth.

What a stupid question. Of course he’s not doing well. He just lost his mom and now he’s in a room with strangers, probably scared and unsure of what’s going to happen next.

This is uncharted territory for me, and it shows.

I’ve never spent time with a kid before, yet here I am trying to connect with my son while doing my best not to push him too hard.

I don’t know his favorite food, what makes him laugh, or how to earn his trust. The only information I have is his name and that he clings to a stuffed dinosaur as if it’s the only constant in his world.

“I like your dino,” I say, running my fingers along the spikes on its back. “I bet he has a mighty roar.”

Caleb lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug, the only sign he’s acknowledged me.

I lean in and whisper, “I heard dinosaurs love grilled cheese sandwiches, especially with lots of gooey cheese.”

His mouth twitches in the faintest hint of a smile glancing at his dino.

“They’re my favorite. In fact, one of the best ones I’ve ever had was from a deli a few blocks from here. Maybe we could get one together if you’re hungry.”

I watch with bated breath as Caleb’s eyes flicker and his finger flexes around his dinosaur, revealing a small spark of interest.

“How about you nod if you like the idea, and shake your head if you’d rather try something else.”

Caleb nibbles on his lower lip, studying me for what feels like ages. Just as I’m about to suggest other options, he gives me a hesitant nod.

I flash a grin, giving him a thumbs-up. “Great choice. How about I talk to the nice lady waiting for us, then we can head to the deli? I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” the social worker interjects with a smile. “It’s been a few hard days for Caleb and he could use some normalcy. Let’s head over there now and we can go over the questions I need to ask once we get back.”

“Really?” I ask.

She nods, jotting something on her clipboard. “No reason why not.”

I exhale in relief, grateful she wants to make this transition easier for Caleb.

I’m eager to get back to New York and establish a routine.

Every article I read stresses it as essential when caring for a child who’s experienced loss.

I’m also counting down the hours until I can speak with Julie Halstead.

Hopefully, she can offer a new perspective and the kind of reassurance and wisdom that can’t be found online.

No matter what comes next, I know the Halsteads will help Caleb and me through it. And until he’s ready to let me in, I’ll keep showing him that I’m here, and he’ll never have to face anything alone again.