34. April 4, Monday #4
“That’s good,” Zoey said. “Because I’m definitely going to need help wrangling whatever version of a family we end up building. Human, canine, or otherwise.”
He thought of Fido and her puppies, finally warm and safe at the clinic.
“Maybe we start there,” he suggested. “Practice on the puppies.”
Zoey smiled, small and bright and full of something that looked a lot like hope. “Deal.”
The people depending on him, the team asking things from him, for the first time, the weight on his chest didn’t feel like something pressing him down. It felt like something grounding him.
He squeezed Zoey’s fingers and let himself believe that life might actually be okay. Messy. Loud. Full of love he hadn’t earned on a scoreboard. And this time, he wasn’t going to run from it.
Inside the house, kids shouted and thundered around, comparing trading cards.
Someone knocked into the speakers, and the music that went along with the projector stuttered before evening out and echoing through the open windows.
Ilya could see the shaky highlight reel flicker through the glass; pictures of both little and big kids wobbling around in skates and jerseys.
Babs clapped from the doorway and summoned everyone inside. “Popcorn is ready! Time to watch the movie!”
“Time to go,” Zoey said, nudging him. “Your fan club demands you.”
“You,” he corrected. “This is your show.”
She rolled her eyes, but her hand stayed curled in his as they walked back toward the front steps.
Before they could make it up, Madison skipped down in an oversized black sweatshirt and a Cyclones winter hat with a pom on top.
“Um, Zoey?” Madison’s eyes darted around. “Can I talk to you real quick?”
Zoey’s hand tightened in Ilya’s.
“Of course,” she agreed.
Madison’s eyes took in their clasped hands. She rolled her eyes before looking at Ilya. “Are you planning on marrying her?”
Without a beat of hesitation, Ilya answered. “Absolutely.”
Zoey’s head snapped toward him.
He looked down at her. “Not tomorrow,” he said quickly. “Not without asking in a way that involves significantly more planning and romance. But yes.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then she shook her head, eyes wet and amused. “You are a menace.”
“I’m being honest. Therapy is already working.”
“You haven’t gone yet.”
“Strong placebo effect.”
Madison gusted out a dramatic sigh and shook her head. “Whatever. You can stay too then, I guess.”
Ilya bit his lip to hide his grin. He always had a soft spot for the older kids.
A thought flashed through him—Zoey, teenagers, a house with enough rooms for kids aging out to have a safe place to land.
Then he caught himself. Not his promise to make. Not yet.
But someday, maybe, if Zoey invited him into that dream.
Madison heaved a giant breath and looked at Zoey with nervous eyes. “Is your license almost ready?”
The entire world seemed to quiet.
Zoey’s face changed. Concern. Recognition. A thousand questions.
Ilya felt old reflexes surge up; fix, protect, step in front, find the solution before anyone asked. He held still. This wasn’t his moment to manage.
Zoey stepped forward, her voice gentle. “Yes. I don’t have hard dates, but yes, I’m almost approved.”
Madison’s throat bobbed.
Zoey read the look and hesitated, shooting a questioning glance toward Ilya.
He squeezed her hand once. Your call. I’m here.
Zoey turned back to Madison. “If this is about placement stuff, or case stuff, or something big, we should get Babs.”
Madison’s mouth tightened. “I don’t want Babs yet.”
“Okay,” Zoey said carefully. “Then we can start here. But no secret plans on the porch, all right? No panic promises. No shame. You can always talk to Ilya or me, but you have to know that Babs has to also be involved at some point.”
Madison’s eyes glistened. She looked furious about it. Classic teenager. Classic hurt kid. Classic person trying to hold a grenade with both hands and pretend it was a paperweight.
Madison looked at Zoey again. Her fingers curled around the hem of her oversized sweatshirt, tugging it tighter around herself despite the mild air.
“But you said you wanted a baby,” she said, her voice an accusation barely above a whisper.
Zoey nodded slowly. “We talked about that. If a baby needed placement now then yes, but I don’t want to not help kids now while I wait for a baby to appear.”
“I know, I know.” Madison swallowed hard. “But…what if there was a baby who needed a family now?”
A strange stillness moved through Zoey.
Ilya felt it too.
The yard noise blurred around them—kids yelling, Tommy shouting, Ty laughing. Inside, the highlight reel music swelled through the open windows, bright and tinny and completely unaware that the porch had become the center of the universe.
“What baby, sweetheart?” Zoey asked softly.
Ilya loved her so much for that his chest hurt.
Madison’s face crumpled for one terrible second before she forced it back into something tougher. Her hand slid, almost unconsciously, beneath the bulky sweatshirt. Low. Protective. Terrified.
Then her eyes lifted to Zoey’s. “What if it was mine?”