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A fter the social worker approved Caleb’s stay with me, we were on our way to New York.

Somewhere between crossing state lines and returning to the city skyline, I wondered if I was in over my head.

Thank god my assistant, Beth, stocked the fridge and set up the guest bedroom for Caleb before we arrived.

It was one less thing I had to worry about, allowing my focus to be solely on him.

It’s past midnight once we get to my place, and we head straight to his room—complete with a king-sized bed, gray walls, and a leather armchair in the corner. Not exactly kid-friendly, but it’s the best we could manage at the last minute.

Caleb stands in the doorway, watching me with wary, sleep-heavy eyes as I move his things from the duffel bag he had with him to the dresser in the corner.

“We’ll go to the store soon, and you can pick out whatever you want to decorate your room,” I assure him.

Maybe it’ll help him feel more at home and give me a glimpse of what he likes.

He blinks slowly as I pull a pair of pajamas from his bag and hold them up. “How about you get changed and brush your teeth before bed?”

He bites his lower lip, clutching his dinosaur tightly, and hesitantly shakes his head.

It’s challenging to guess what he’s thinking or feeling, but I know I have to be patient and let him open up in his own time.

I blow out a soft breath. It’s only been a few hours, and I already feel like I’m failing.

I got in touch with Julie on the plane ride home, but what to do if Caleb doesn’t want to change into his pj’s wasn’t one of the endless questions that I asked.

This confirms that I’m completely out of my depth. The truth is, I have no idea what to do next. I’ve never spent much time around young kids—especially not one coping with the loss of his mom.

Caleb looks exhausted—his eyes are half-closed, and he’s barely standing. If letting him sleep in his clothes means there’s a chance he’ll get some rest, then that’s what we’ll do.

“Why don’t we skip pajamas and brushing teeth tonight?” I suggest, putting the pj’s in the top dresser drawer. “How about we read a book instead?”

I pull a picture book with a coconut tree on the cover from his bag—one that I saw earlier called Chicka Chicka Boom Boom .

Caleb rubs his eyes, and his grip loosens on his dinosaur. I feel a pang of relief when he gives me a slight nod.

I offer him a reassuring smile. “Hop into bed, and we’ll start the story.”

He shuffles across the room, climbs onto the mattress, and settles under the covers on the side closest to me.

I move the leather chair as close to the bed as possible before taking a seat. Caleb lays his head on the pillow, turning toward me, and his curious gaze studies me.

My throat tightens as I open the book with shaky hands, holding it out so he can see the pictures.

I’ve never read a book to a child before, and I realize just how important this moment is.

After everything he’s endured, if there’s a chance to give him even a few minutes of peace, I’ll give it my all.

So I put my energy into reading, wanting to make it as entertaining as possible.

A few pages into the book when D, E, and F tumble out of the tree, I pretend to wince. “Oof! D is going to need a giant bandage. Maybe even a whole box of dinosaur ones,” I exclaim.

Caleb steals a glance my way, and the sadness in his eyes doesn’t seem quite so heavy.

The social worker said it might take a while for him to warm up to me, and that’s okay. Seeing him interested in the story is a small victory worth celebrating.

When we get to the part where the whole alphabet falls from the tree, I lean over, tapping the nightstand gently with a soft thud-thud-thud to mimic their fall.

“Oh no,” I gasp in mock horror. “Those poor little letters.”

Caleb rubs his eyes again, holding his dinosaur close to his chest. I soften my tone and read the last few pages in a hushed voice, letting the story wind down with him.

By the time we reach the final page—where A sneaks out of bed to climb the coconut tree again—Caleb has fallen asleep. I set the book on the nightstand and lean over the bed, pulling the covers around his shoulders.

My hand hovers over his head, and I gently push his hair back. He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, and my heart swells with a fierce protectiveness.

“Don’t worry, bud,” I whisper. “You’ve got me now, and we’ll figure this out together.”

This past week has tested me in ways no one could’ve prepared me for. After the first night, Caleb withdrew, barely acknowledging me let alone willing to speak. Even getting him to respond with a simple nod or shake of his head has been a struggle.

He’s in bed for the night, and I should be catching up on work, but I haven’t managed more than staring blankly at the computer.

I grab my phone and call Julie. We spoke the night I brought Caleb home, and she shared advice to help him settle in. Now I’m hoping she has more to offer because I’m completely overwhelmed and could use her guidance.

“Hi, Jensen,” she answers cheerfully. “How are you and Caleb holding up? I was starting to worry since I hadn’t heard from you much except for a few texts.”

I run a hand through my hair. “It’s been rough.

He’s barely left his room since we got to my place.

He’s ignored the cartoons I’ve put on for him and steers clear of the toys and stack of kids’ books I picked out, unless he thinks I’m not watching.

” I get out of my chair, pacing my office.

“Hell, I haven’t even been able to get him to show me what food he likes besides grilled cheese.

I’ve had to order from several different places for every meal, paying close attention to what he eats and what goes untouched. ” I sigh in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Jensen,” Julie says, her tone soft. “How is his therapy going?”

“The therapist has come over twice.” I’ve had her come to the apartment because I was worried about taking Caleb to another unfamiliar place so soon.

“I asked if it might be helpful to start teaching him sign language or give him a tablet with a communication app, but she said to give him more time to adjust.”

She reminded me that grief doesn’t follow a schedule and said introducing other forms of communication too soon could overwhelm Caleb or make him feel pressured. Which could actually delay his comfort in speaking again, and that’s the last thing I want.

“That makes sense. It sounds like you’re doing the best you can to make him comfortable given the circumstances, and like the therapist said, it’ll just take a little time,” Julie reassures me.

“The therapist also recommended that he spend time with other kids. Even if he only watches at first.” I stand at my window overlooking Central Park. “She thinks it’ll help him warm up to playing and interacting when he’s ready.”

I tried looking for local playgroups and classes earlier, but it turned into a rabbit hole of options and conflicting parenting advice.

Eventually, I had to step away to take a breather.

I usually enjoy doing deep dives into a subject, but this felt more like an emotional endurance test than a fact-finding mission.

Honestly, it’s a miracle neither my browser nor my brain short-circuited.

“What if you and Caleb come to Bluebell for the summer?” Julie suggests. “I think it would be good for both of you.”

I come to a standstill, my fingers tightening around the phone. “You’re serious?”

“I am. Next week, the elementary school is kicking off a summer camp focused on outdoor learning. It’s run by some teachers and volunteers, and includes activities like painting pine cones, visiting local farms, and learning how vegetables grow.

I’m sure Caleb would enjoy it.” She pauses briefly, letting me absorb her recommendation.

“The camp is full, but I can squeeze him in. That’s one perk of being the principal,” she adds brightly.

My gut reaction is to immediately decline. I haven’t set foot in Bluebell since I was eighteen. It’s a reminder of my shitty childhood and the struggles I endured early on. Even though my parents have passed, the scars they left still haunt me—etched into every corner of that town.

New York City is my home now, and I’ve fought to build a successful career and the stable life I missed out on as a kid. So, returning to a past I’ve tried to leave behind feels like a step in the wrong direction.

“I know coming back here isn’t what you want,” Julie continues, seeming to read my thoughts.

“But the sunshine and slower pace could do Caleb some good. A child therapist retired to Bluebell last year, and I often recommend her to parents at the school. So, Caleb can continue in-person therapy. I’ve always thought of you as my own, and I’d love nothing more than to support you right now.

They say it takes a village and you have one here on the ranch, ready to help. ”

As much as I hate to admit it, that does sound like the perfect setup.

The truth is I’m isolated here in the city.

I have my own business and employees, but not much support outside of work.

Back in Bluebell, I’d have Julie and the whole Halstead family to help Caleb and me navigate this unexpected new chapter.

Even though it would mean swallowing my pride and confronting my past.

“Where would we stay?” I ask, unsure why I’m still entertaining this idea.

“Briar lives in the cottage now, and there are two extra bedrooms. You can stay with her,” Julie answers without skipping a beat. “The cabins are full all summer, and the ranch house is too chaotic for Caleb. This way, you’d get separate rooms and a bit of privacy.”

Briar was only ten when I left town and we haven’t spoken since. She’d be twenty-four now, and I doubt she’ll be thrilled about sharing her space with her older brother’s best friend and his kid.

“It’s a lot to ask. Are you sure that’s something she’d be okay with?” I question.

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine with it,” Julie chirps. “Especially when she hears about your situation. I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t think it’s what’s best for you and Caleb.”

She stops there, leaving me to stand in silence, weighing my options. Julie knows a thing or two about raising kids, and I believe her when she says she wouldn’t suggest Bluebell unless she truly believed it was the right move for us .

My chest tightens, knowing what I have to do.

“Alright. We’ll come, but just for the summer.”

“Really?” Julie exclaims. “That’s the best news.”

I exhale slowly. “I’ll need some time to get everything in order, then we’ll be on our way.”

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my son, even if that means going back to the small town I vowed never to return to.