39. Sophia
THIRTY-NINE
Sophia
The familiar scent of freshly ground coffee beans envelops me as I work behind the counter at The Guardian Grind. It’s been weeks since I’ve returned to work, and the routine feels both comforting and strange. My hands move automatically, preparing drinks I could make in my sleep while my mind wanders to other things.
Other things being specifically Blake.
The bell above the door chimes, and I look up. It’s Blake entering with his team. My heart skips a beat, just like it always does when I see him. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The distance between us, once nonexistent, now feels like a chasm.
“The usual?” I ask, already reaching for their preferred cups.
“You know us too well,” Gabe replies with a wink.
As I prepare their orders, I steal glances at Blake, hoping to catch his eye. Hoping for him to see me. To engage with me the way we used to, rather than this stilted distance that’s crept between us.
He’s deep in conversation with Ethan, probably discussing their latest mission. I miss being part of those conversations, miss being part of his world in that way. But things are different now .
I’m different.
I hand over their drinks, careful to avoid brushing Blake’s fingers as he takes his cup. The brief flash of disappointment in his eyes tells me he noticed too. We’re both trying to give each other space, but it feels wrong.
Everything feels wrong.
As they leave, Blake turns back. “See you this afternoon? For Luke’s climbing lesson?”
“We’ll be there.” Warmth spreads through my chest at the mention of my son, but Blake is only seeing Luke. He doesn’t seem excited to see me. That kills me a little on the inside.
The door closes behind them, and I’m left with Blake’s unique scent lingering in the air, and a hollow ache in my chest. I want to run after him, throw my arms around him, and beg him to come home.
But I can’t.
Not yet.
There’s too much unsaid between us, too many hurts to heal.
I glance at the clock. A few more hours, and I’ll see him again. Maybe I’ll find the courage to bridge this gap between us, and we can start to rebuild what we’ve lost.
The cavernous gymnasium echoes with the sounds of squeaking sneakers and clanking metal. I stand at the base of the towering rock wall, my neck craning as I follow Luke’s ascent. The wall spans the entire length of the football-field-sized room, stretching over 100 feet toward the ceiling. The smell of chalk and sweat hangs in the air, mingling with the faint scent of rubber from the mats below.
“You’re doing great, bro!” Blake’s voice rings out, encouragement laced with genuine excitement. He’s right beside Luke, guiding him to the next hold.
“Thanks, bro!” Luke chirps back, his small face scrunched in concentration.
Below them, Gabe and Hank man the belays, the safety system that will save my son’s life if he falls.
Only Luke never falls. He has an inborn gift for climbing like a monkey .
My heart swells at Luke and Blake’s interaction. In the weeks since our rescue, they’ve formed a bond I never dared hope for. The easy way they’ve slipped into a brotherly rapport both warms and aches my heart.
“Remember, always keep three points of contact,” Blake instructs, demonstrating the technique. “Two hands and a foot, or two feet and a hand.”
Luke nods thoughtfully, mimicking Blake’s movements. They’re about twenty feet up, and my muscles tense with each inch they climb higher.
“You’ve got this, buddy,” Blake encourages as Luke reaches for a tricky hold. “Trust your strength.”
I watch, breath held, as Luke stretches his tiny arm, fingers grasping. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he’ll fall, but then his fingers curl around the hold, and he pulls himself up.
“I did it!” Luke’s triumphant yell echoes through the gym.
“That’s my bro.” Blake high-fives him, pride radiating from his smile.
They continue their ascent, Luke growing more confident with each move. I slowly relax, trusting Blake’s careful guidance and Luke’s natural agility. The way Blake watches over Luke, anticipating his needs and offering support without hovering, speaks volumes. He’d make a fantastic father. The idea brings a bittersweet pang to my chest.
As they near the thirty-foot mark, Luke pauses, looking down at me with a mischievous grin. “Mom. Watch this.”
Before I can respond, he turns to Blake. “Hey, bro, can I fly like a superhero?”
Blake’s eyes meet mine for a split second, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Go for it, buddy.”
My heart leaps into my throat as Luke pushes off from the wall. I gasp, torn between horror and amazement. For a terrifying moment, he’s airborne, arms spread wide like wings. Then the auto-belay system catches, and he’s gliding down in a controlled descent.
My son is all smiles as he touches down on the mat, unhooking himself with practiced ease. He bounds over to me, eyes shining with excitement.
“Did you see me? I flew like a superhero.” He throws his arms around me in a crushing hug.
I laugh, relief and joy bubbling up inside me. “You sure did, baby. You were amazing.”
Over Luke’s head, I catch Blake’s eye. He rappels down, a soft smile as he watches us. At that moment, I’m struck by how right this feels—the three of us together, almost like a family.
As Luke chatters excitedly about his “flight,” I hold onto that feeling, hoping against hope that, somehow, we can make this work. That we can build something real and lasting from the pieces of our complicated past.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of coffee orders and stolen glances at the clock. As my shift winds down, Jenna arrives with Carter in tow, their faces lit with matching grins.
“We’ve got a proposition for you,” Jenna announces, leaning against the counter.
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, wiping my hands on my apron.
Carter’s usual stoic demeanor softens. “We want to take Luke to Insanity to play with the other kids. Forest has installed a new VR arcade, and it’s opening night. It should give you and Blake some time to... talk. It’s a sleepover, by the way. Luke will be gone all night. ”
I swallow hard, a mix of gratitude and nervousness swirling in my stomach. “That’s—that’s really thoughtful of you guys.”
Jenna reaches across the counter, squeezing my hand. “You two need this. We’ve all seen how you’ve been dancing around each other.”
I nod, blinking back sudden tears. “Thank you.”
As I hang up my apron and gather my things, a plan begins to form. It’s been so long since Blake and I have been alone. I need to make this count.
Quickly, I send him a text, asking him over for dinner. I don’t tell him Luke won’t be there because I’m afraid Blake won’t come otherwise. The tension between us is growing by leaps and bounds every day.
And it needs to stop.