He never showed up without asking.
He never demanded that Lucas call him Dad.
And when Lucas didn’t feel like talking one evening, he accepted it.
I watched everything.
Not because I trusted him.
Trust wasn’t something he earned simply by finally appearing.
He would have to build it.
Maybe I would too.
Three weeks later, Lucas sat at the kitchen table eating Sunday pancakes.
Too thick, as usual.
“He wants to come to my game Saturday.”
I set down the syrup.
“Do you want him there?”
Lucas nodded.
“Yeah.”
