Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Summer
I leaned back against the car seat, exhaustion settling into my bones.
Disneyland had been magical, chaotic, and filled with more laughter than I had experienced in years.
But now, as the excitement of the day faded, reality began to creep back in.
Jake was in the backseat, hugging his stuffed Mickey Mouse like a lifeline, his small body still thrumming with the energy of everything he had seen and done.
His feet swung back and forth, a soft hum escaping him as he lazily hummed one of the parade songs.
It was the happiest I had ever seen him.
My heart clenched at the thought of taking him back to the foster home after this.
No kid should have to leave a day like this only to return to uncertainty.
I sighed, my gaze settling on the passing scenery, recognizing the route that would take us back to Ridgeview Foster Home. Back to waiting. Back to legal processes and unknown futures. Then, Malcolm did something that made my stomach twist in confusion. He drove right past the turn.
I straightened, my brow furrowing as I turned to look at him. “Uh… you missed the turn.”
Jake’s humming stopped instantly. His small head lifted, confusion settling into his features. “Aren’t we stopping?”
Malcolm didn’t even glance at us. His grip on the wheel was relaxed, his expression unreadable, but there was a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Nope. We have one more stop.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Malcolm.”
Jake, now more awake than ever, perked up in his seat. “Where are we going?”
Malcolm didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned onto a quiet, beautifully maintained street lined with houses that looked like they had been plucked from the pages of a home magazine.
Everything was perfectly manicured, each house boasting spacious front lawns and towering trees that cast peaceful shade over the sidewalks.
There were kids riding their bikes, neighbors chatting in driveways, a family playing catch with their dog.
The entire scene looked so surreal, so normal, that something inside me squeezed uncomfortably.
This wasn’t just any neighborhood.
It was the neighborhood.
The kind of place where families thrived. Where kids grew up without fear. Where memories were made in the backyard, not in social worker files.
I swallowed hard, shifting in my seat as my stomach twisted. “What are we doing here?”
Malcolm didn’t answer, not right away. Instead, he pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous white-stone house at the very end of the cul-de-sac.
The house was breathtaking—modern yet warm, with large windows that overlooked a wrap-around porch.
A wooden swing swayed gently in the breeze, the kind of touch that made it feel lived in, loved.
It was the kind of house that screamed security, stability… family.
Jake gasped audibly. His small fingers pressed against the window as he stared, wide-eyed and unmoving. “This… is our house?”
My breath caught in my throat. I turned to Malcolm, my pulse hammering.
Malcolm put the car in park, finally turning to look at me. “I put in the request,” he said smoothly, his tone even, unreadable. “Jake will stay here instead of going back to the foster home.” Then, after a beat, he added, “But only if you agree.”
The world stilled.
Silence stretched between us, thick and unspoken.
Jake’s small head turned to me, his entire world balancing on my answer.
My breath came out uneven. My hands clenched into fists in my lap, my mind racing to catch up.
This was huge. Too huge. I had spent so long fighting for stability, for control, for something solid to hold onto, and yet, Malcolm had just created it like it was the simplest thing in the world.
He wasn’t just saying he wanted to help.
He wasn’t just playing the part of the billionaire with a savior complex.
This was real. This was him choosing us.
I glanced at Jake, at the way his fingers had curled tightly into the fabric of his hoodie, as if bracing himself for disappointment.
I didn’t even think.
I turned back to Malcolm, my voice shaky but sure. “Yes.”
Malcolm let out a breath, one that I hadn’t even realized he had been holding.
Then, Jake—our Jake—let out a choked little laugh before launching himself forward, wrapping his arms around both of us at the same time.
I barely caught him as his tiny body collided into mine.
His grip was tight, his little shoulders shaking as he squeezed, as if afraid that letting go would make this moment disappear.
I felt Malcolm shift beside me, his arm coming up to steady both of us.
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the moment settle into me.
I had spent so much of my life preparing for loss, for people leaving, for things slipping through my fingers. But right now? Right now, none of that existed. There was only Jake. Malcolm. This moment.