Chapter 71

"Liam, have you finished your homework?" I call out, but there's no response.

It's Friday afternoon, and exhaustion weighs me down like lead. Pregnancy fatigue hits differently this time—every little task feels like climbing a mountain.

At least I’ve been spared the morning sickness, unlike when I was carrying Liam. Small mercies.

"Liam?" I try again, louder this time.

Silence. That’s unusual. He always answers immediately unless something has completely captured his attention.

Before I can drag myself upstairs to investigate, the doorbell rings.

I sigh. It’s not that I don’t want company—I just desperately need a break. A long, hot bath sounds heavenly right now.

My day at the Hope Foundation was grueling—piles of documents, dry eyes, and a mind fried from overwork. My entire body aches.

Reluctantly, I shuffle to the door and swing it open—only to freeze.

Lucas Montgomery and his son, Oliver, stand on my porch.

It’s been two days since our awkward encounter in the backyard. When Oliver didn’t show up to walk home with Liam after school, I assumed Lucas wanted nothing more to do with us. He’d been downright surly that day.

"Hi," I say, unable to mask my surprise.

"Hello, Miss Sophia," Oliver chirps, beaming. He thrusts a bouquet of pink roses toward me. "These are for you."

"Oh!" I take them, touched. "Thank you, Oliver. They’re gorgeous." Without thinking, I bend and press a kiss to his cheek.

When I straighten, he ducks his head, cheeks pink. Just like Liam, he’s sweet beneath the shyness.

I glance at Lucas. "Would you like to come in?"

He hesitates, but Oliver tugs his hand insistently. Lucas relents.

I lead them to the kitchen, where the scent of freshly baked cookies and cupcakes fills the air. Liam had begged for them, and exhausted or not, I could never refuse him.

"Perfect timing," I say as the oven timer dings.

I grab a vase for the roses, then set a plate of warm cookies in front of our guests.

"Liam!" I call again.

"Coming, Mommy!" His voice echoes from upstairs.

A door slams. Footsteps thunder down the hallway, then the stairs. Seconds later, he bursts into the kitchen—and skids to a halt at the sight of visitors.

"Come here, sweetheart." I beckon him over. "I want you to meet someone."

Liam edges forward, hesitant. He’s always shy at first—until he warms up. Then he’ll talk your ear off.

"Liam, this is Oliver. He lives next door. Oliver, this is my son, Liam."

I brace for awkwardness, but to my surprise, Oliver grins. "Hi!"

"Wanna see my room?" Liam blurts.

"Sure!"

Just like that, Liam shoves a handful of cookies into Oliver’s hands, grabs juice boxes from the pantry, and drags him off. "I’ve got a new game to show you!"

I blink. That was… effortless.

"Well, that went better than expected," Lucas murmurs. "Oliver never makes the first move. He’s usually reserved."

I turn to him, having momentarily forgotten he was still here. "Liam’s the same way. Takes him a bit to warm up."

"Really? Because Oliver doesn’t just warm up—he avoids people altogether. Even at school, he keeps to himself. At this point, I think Thor and I are his only friends."

My stomach twists. That’s not normal for a child his age.

If Oliver is that withdrawn, something’s wrong. And it’s not Lucas—anyone can see how much they adore each other.

Something else is hurting that boy.

"Maybe Liam can help bring him out of his shell," I murmur, handing Lucas a cupcake.

I sink onto a stool, finally off my feet, and take a bite. Bliss.

After a moment, Lucas speaks. "I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"My behavior the other day. I was rude."

I wave him off. "You were fine. If anything, I was being extra."

But the memory of the raw pain in his eyes lingers. He’s hiding it well now, but I recognize that kind of hurt.

It’s easy to spot when you’ve been broken too.

"So, what do you do?" he asks, shifting topics.

"I’m a teacher, but I’m on leave for a few months."

I’d considered going back, but I needed this time—for the pregnancy, and for my own sanity.

"You and Ethan Blackwood, then?" Lucas nods toward the stairs where the boys disappeared. "Liam’s his spitting image."

I snort. "Half the city knows how that mess went down. It wasn’t some grand romance—just a drunken mistake."

Sometimes I curse that night, wondering how different life could’ve been. Then I remember: no that night, no Liam. So I’m left hating it and loving it all at once.

"What happened?" Lucas asks.

My skin prickles. "That’s a story for another day."

Ethan hasn’t contacted me since the doctor’s appointment three days ago. No surprise visits from Isabella either, demanding I stay away. Maybe he’s too busy smoothing things over with her.

Good. The less he’s around, the better. His recent behavior only confuses me more, and I’m tired of trying to figure him out.

"What about you?" I ask. "Where’s your wife?"

Lucas stiffens. "I don’t have one."

"Oliver’s mom, then?"

Pain flashes across his face—deep, soul-crushing agony. The kind that isn’t yours but sears you anyway.

My heart cracks. I know that pain.

"She’s… not around," he says hoarsely.

Oh God. I shouldn’t have asked.

"I’m so sorry," I whisper.

He exhales shakily. "It’s been a while. I’m… learning to live with it."

I squeeze his hand, offering silent comfort.

Later, as we talk about lighter things—like replanting the garden Thor destroyed—I realize why Oliver is the way he is.

Losing a parent that young leaves scars. Some never heal.

I don’t know them well, but right then, I make a promise to myself: I’ll help them.

Everyone deserves happiness.

And from the looks of it, Lucas and Oliver haven’t had any in a long, long time.