Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Malcolm
The night air was crisp, wrapping around me like a quiet reminder that things had changed.
That my world had shifted in a way I hadn’t expected.
I sat on the wooden steps of the back porch, hugging my knees to my chest as I stared up at the stars.
Inside, the house was finally still. Jake was curled up in his new bed, sleeping soundly for the first time in what I hoped was forever.
He had barely let go of his stuffed Mickey Mouse, his tiny hands gripping it even in sleep, as if he still couldn’t believe today had happened.
I knew how he felt. A part of me still couldn’t believe it either.
This house, this life—it all felt too surreal, too permanent in a way I had never let myself hope for.
And yet, here I was, sitting on the back porch of a house that Malcolm had made sure would be ours.
A house that wasn’t just a place to live but a promise.
The sound of the screen door creaking open made me glance over my shoulder.
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Malcolm’s presence had a way of filling the space around him, his energy impossible to ignore.
He stepped out onto the porch, moving with the kind of quiet confidence that made it seem like he belonged everywhere.
He didn’t say anything at first, just lowered himself onto the steps beside me, stretching his legs out in front of him.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy—weighted with things left unsaid.
I let the quiet settle for a few moments, my fingers absently tracing the hem of my hoodie as I tried to find the right words. But there was only one question that had followed me for years, one question I couldn’t shake no matter how much I told myself it didn’t matter anymore.
“Why didn’t you ever call me?” My voice was softer than I intended, but the weight of the question was anything but light.
Malcolm inhaled deeply, letting the breath sit in his lungs for a moment before releasing it. His jaw tightened slightly before he answered. “Because I wasn’t ready.”
I turned to face him, my heart pounding a little harder than it should. “Ready for what?”
His eyes stayed locked on the stars for a beat longer before he finally turned to look at me. “For you.”
My breath caught, my fingers curling into the fabric of my sleeves as my stomach twisted.
“I wanted to be better,” he continued, his voice quieter now.
“I wanted to be someone who deserved you. When I got adopted, when the Sinclairs took me in, it felt like I had been given this whole new life. But I didn’t know how to be in it.
I didn’t know how to belong. And the only thing I knew for sure was that you...
you deserved more than a lost boy trying to figure himself out. ”
My throat tightened.
“I didn’t want to come back to you half-built,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But I never stopped thinking about you, Summer. Not once.”
The words hit me harder than I expected, knocking the air from my lungs.
His fingers brushed against the back of my hand, slow and deliberate, like he was waiting for me to pull away. “And now? I’m ready. I want you in my life. For good.”
My heart was slamming against my ribs, my pulse a traitor in my own body. This was it. This was the moment where I was supposed to be serious, where I was supposed to say something profound and emotional. But, of course, my brain chose the absolute worst possible thing to blurt out instead.
“Well,” I muttered, clearing my throat, “it’s a good thing you took your time, because if you had come back earlier, we’d probably have five kids by now, and poor Jake wouldn’t have gotten adopted.”
Malcolm blinked, his lips parting slightly. Then, he laughed.
Not just a chuckle. A full, deep, genuine laugh.
“What?” he asked, shaking his head, amusement flickering in his eyes.
I sighed dramatically, looking away. “You heard me. If you came back a few years ago, we probably would’ve been married already, and I would’ve been too busy dealing with a small army of your children. Jake would have been out of luck.”
Malcolm’s shoulders shook as he laughed harder, tilting his head back slightly. “You’re impossible.”
“I try.”
His fingers curled around mine then, his thumb brushing slow circles over my skin. “So, you think this is the perfect timing?”
I let out a breath, glancing down at our hands before looking back at him. “Yeah. I do.”
His smirk softened, something deeper settling into his expression. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
I squeezed his hand, warmth spreading through my chest, making my pulse flutter in the worst—and best—way possible. “Neither am I.”
Malcolm’s gaze flickered to my lips for half a second, and I swore I stopped breathing.
“You know,” he said, his voice lower now, teasing, “I think five kids is a bit excessive, but I wouldn’t be opposed to one or two.”
I choked on air. “Malcolm.”
He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “What? You’re the one who brought it up.”
I groaned, shoving him lightly. “You are ridiculous.”
He caught my wrist easily, pulling me just a little closer. “And you love it.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words never came, because Malcolm lifted his hand to my face, his fingers brushing along my jaw, slow and deliberate. The teasing was gone now, replaced with something real, something heavy and warm and undeniable.
His thumb traced over my cheek, his touch careful, like he was memorizing me. “Tell me I waited too long,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way.”
I couldn’t.
Because it wasn’t too late.
And I did feel the same way.
I always had.