Chapter 19
When I hear the sound of two car doors shutting, I sink into the couch beside Milo. The weight of the day presses down on me like a heavy blanket. He leans against me, his little hand resting on mine, and I draw strength from his quiet presence.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. For a second, I debate on ignoring it, too drained to deal with anything or anyone else. But something about the knock, gentle yet deliberate, makes me push myself up.
When I open the door, Henry is there with his hands awkwardly pressed to his sides. His eyes light up when they connect with mine.
“Hey,” he says. “I heard some commotion and was just checking to see if you guys are okay.”
For the first time all day, I feel a genuine smile tug at my lips. “Yeah. We’re okay.”
He nods, his lips beginning to mimic my own smile. “Good. I just wanted to make sure.”
“Thanks,” I say, my voice softer than expected. “Do you want to come in?”
Henry glances past me to Milo, who waves enthusiastically from the couch. He grins. “Sure. If it’s not a bad time.”
“No, it’s not,” I reply, stepping aside to let him in.
I close the door as Henry walks into my messy living room. I cringe when I notice the pile of clothes that haven’t been folded in a week and Milo’s toys scattered across the floor. It’s a miracle he didn’t break his arm in here.
Soon, my attention is pulled away from the mess to the scent of something sweet wafting through the air. My eyes fall to the small paper bag Henry is clutching onto.
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding toward it.
Henry grins and opens the bag slightly so I can see inside. “I brought Milo some cookies from the bakery in town to cheer him up. I hope that’s okay.”
My throat grows thick, and a familiar warmth spreads inside my body. “Yeah, of course. That was so nice of you.”
At some point, Milo peeled himself off the couch and is now tugging on my pant leg to get my attention. I look down at him and his little face lights up with curiosity. “Treat?” he asks.
Henry crouches down to Milo’s level, pulling one of the cookies from the bag. “That’s right, buddy. I got you a special cookie—one with sprinkles. What do you think?”
Milo’s eyes go wide, and he looks up at me again for permission before grabbing the treat with an excited squeal. “Mama! Blue!”
I look at the sprinkles, and sure enough, the cookie is covered in Milo’s favorite color. My heart expands, feeling constrained against my chest.
“You mentioned one time that he was obsessed with the color blue, so I assumed that was the right call,” Henry says nonchalantly, like he didn’t just remember a small detail about my son that most people wouldn’t bother with.
I blink rapidly to keep my emotions at bay. That moment with my mom earlier had unlocked the floodgates, and I needed to get it under control quickly.
“Yeah,” I squeak out, my voice a little uneven. “That was definitely the right call.”
Henry glances up at me, still crouching down next to Mi. His smile is soft and genuine, and all I wanted to do was jump straight into his arms. “Good. I wanted to make sure he had something to smile about today.”
Milo is already halfway through his cookie, crumbs dusting his tiny hands and cheeks. “More?” he asks, holding up his sticky fingers in Henry’s direction.
I laugh, shaking my head as I carefully scoop Milo into my arms. “One is enough for now, sweetheart. Say thank you to Henry.”
Milo nuzzles his head into my neck but looks back at Henry with a bright grin. “Tank you!” he chirps before hiding his face again. “Mama?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I reply while he stubbornly wiggles out of my arms. Before answering me, he runs across the room to pick up one of the stray markers. My lips tilt up once I realize what he’s doing.
He runs back over to us and goes to Henry this time. He holds up his bright blue cast and points to where I signed it.
Henry looks down at him, and his eyes dance with amusement. “Oh, you want me to sign it too?”
Milo nods enthusiastically, his blond curls bouncing as he holds out the marker with both hands. “Here!”
Henry takes the marker with a grin and glances at me. “Is this okay?”
“Of course,” I nod, trying to ignore the way my heart thuds against my chest. He fit so perfectly into this moment. “Just don’t let him talk you into drawing a whole mural.”
He chuckles and crouches back down to Milo’s level. “Got it. No murals. How about something simple?”
Milo watches intently as Henry carefully sketches something small. His eyes are focused, and his tongue slightly darts out in deep concentration. I try to peek at what he’s drawing, but I can’t see around his head.
“All done,” Henry says, capping the marker and handing it back to Milo, who’s staring at the cast with awe. “I’m not much of an artist, but I think I got it right. What do you think, Pajarito?”
He pulls his head back so I can look at the small doodle. When I see it, something flutters deep in my stomach. He drew a hummingbird.
“A hummingbird,” I say, lifting my hand to trace the tiny tattoo behind my ear.
“Look, Mommy! We match!” Milo says, excitedly holding up his cast, his little face glowing with pride.
A smile stretches across my lips, and I’m convinced it’ll stay like that as long as Henry is nearby. “We sure do.” My voice is steady, almost bland, but inside, I’m a mess of emotions, the significance of the tiny drawing hitting me harder than I expected.
Henry stands, brushing his hands on his jeans, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I figured it’d mean something to him. And to you.”
I swallow hard and relive the emotions of finding the hummingbird feeder on the porch. It was hard to find the words to tell him how much it meant to me. I wanted to tell him he saw parts of me no one bothered to look twice at.
As I got older, I learned that hummingbirds were small but resilient, a symbol of strength and joy even in the hardest moments. Everything feels so full circle in this moment, and it numbs the pain I endured for so long.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my eyes locking with his.
He shrugs lightly, but there’s warmth in his gaze. “It’s nothing, really. Just thought he’d like it.”
For a moment, the air is thick, and I forget all of the guilt, all of the doubt.
In this moment, I only see him. In this moment, I know I’m falling for him.
His presence feels like the calm after a storm, the kind of peace I never thought I’d find.
And yet, with some weird twist of fate, here it is, standing right in front of me.
We break eye contact when Milo laughs at something happening on the TV. I wasn’t sure how long we stood there. When I look back at him, I notice he’s still staring and I smile, feeling the need to break up an intense yet silent moment.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” I ask. I wince when I remember the last time I asked him the same question. It was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like we’ve lived a lifetime since then.
Henry raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not,” I say quickly. “Besides, I think Milo would love it. And so would I.”
His smile deepens, and he nods. “Alright. But only if I can help.”
“Deal,” I reply, finally feeling confident enough to step closer to him. “I will warn you, the kitchen is a mess.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says with a wink.
I laugh and shake my head. I could get used to this.
After dinner, Milo’s eyelids begin to droop, and he’s nodding off in his chair before I even suggest his least favorite “b” word.
Henry helps me navigate the chaos of getting him ready, holding Milo’s toothbrush while I wrangle him into his pajamas and shepherd him through this nightly routine. I tried to tell Henry he didn’t have to help, but I was too tired to fight him tonight.
By the time I tuck Milo into bed, his head is nestled beside his little blue cast, and he’s already half asleep. “G’night, Mommy,” he murmurs, his voice quiet with exhaustion.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I whisper, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “I love you.”
He hums a sleepy response, and I linger in the doorway, watching him drift off before turning off the light and pulling the door closed behind me.
When I walk back to the main area of the apartment, Henry is in the living room, tidying up stray toys and folding a blanket. He probably has no clue how incredibly sexy that is.
When he sees me, he straightens up and offers a small smile. “He was out like a light, huh?”
“Completely,” I say, crossing the room to sink onto the couch. “It has been a long day.”
Henry sits beside me, and our thighs bump together when his body weight creates a dip in the couch. A few days ago, I probably would’ve crawled to the other side of the couch, but I was tired of denying how much I loved being touched by Henry Castillo.
“Did you have people over earlier?” Henry asks.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back into the couch and tucking my feet beneath me. “My mom and Nana stopped by.”
Henry’s brow furrows slightly, his head tilting in curiosity. “I thought you said that you didn’t talk to your mom anymore?”
“I don’t,” I answer quickly. “I’ve been ignoring her calls, and until yesterday, she didn’t know where I lived. I never really told her I was cutting her off, I just decided to stop talking to her.”
Henry’s gaze lightens, and he shifts closer. “Today must have been difficult for you then.”
I nod, my fingers absently twisting the hem of my shirt. “It was. It still is. The hardest part is my nana. She’s pushing me to keep a relationship with my mother, but I can’t keep letting her come in and out of my life like it’s nothing.”
Henry doesn’t say anything right away, but his hand gently brushes mine, a quiet support that feels so effortless. “That sounds exhausting. I get why you’d need some space.”