“People sometimes laugh when they don’t know what to say.”
“They say I’m w-weird.”
“Hey,” I said, waiting until he lifted his head again. “We don’t think you’re weird. We like you. And you know what else?”
He shook his head.
“My friend Reid won’t think you’re weird. He would love to show you his computers.”
It was the first time I saw the kid in him.
“Awesome!” he crowed.
He was fascinated when Liv pulled out her pad and drew him a picture. He watched her constantly as she moved.
“She’s so pretty,” he whispered to me in an awed voice.
“Yeah, she is,” I agreed, ruffling his hair.
He pushed up his glasses again, and I held out my hand. “Can I see those, Reed?”
He handed them to me, and I frowned. They were old and obviously used, but I realized probably the best that could be done given the budgets in the system. But I carefully worked the arms a little and slid them back onto his nose. “Better?”
He nodded. His gaze drifted over to the box beside me and I chuckled. “You want another Danish?”
“Please.”
I opened the box. “Help yourself, little man.”
He munched away, and I met Liv’s eyes. I could see she felt the same. She stood, brushing off her jeans. “Excuse me.”
My eyes followed her to the door, knowing she was going to go and talk to Angela.
I had the feeling my family was going to expand.
A week later, we brought Sammy to meet Reed. Within minutes, they were on the floor, talking. His dark head bent low over her bright hair as they each chose a Danish from the box, then ate their snack. Liv sat with them, teasing and laughing.
Beside me, Angela shook her head. “I can’t believe how he has responded to you.”
“We want to move forward. Take him home.”
“It won’t always be this easy,” she warned.
I looked at the three of them. “I know, but it will be worth it.”
Another year passes…
The front door burst open, and Reed rushed in. “Dad!”
I looked up from the sofa. “Hey, big guy. What’s up?”
He hurried over. “Look!”
I groaned. “Another computer?”
Reid strolled in, grinning. “Me and my buddy built it over the last couple of weeks. He did most of it himself.”
I ruffled my son’s hair, knowing he hated it. Or at least pretended to. “Good job.”
“You should see the games it has on it. It is wicked.” He turned and fist-bumped with his buddy. He took off upstairs, and I knew he would be playing for as long as we allowed.
My son had two favorite people in the world aside from us.
Number one was without a doubt, Reid Matthews. When we first brought our Reed home, it had been difficult. Despite our great start, he had been terrified of being rejected again and had pushed us away, constantly testing us. Reid understood his fears and could relate to him on a level we couldn’t comprehend. He became his friend and confidant, bonding over computers, pizza, and a lot of private conversations. With Reid’s help, we had broken down Reed’s barriers, and he had come to trust us. Trust the love and know he was part of our family. The respect and admiration I already had for Reid grew by leaps and bounds watching him help my son.
My gratitude was, and always would be, endless.
His second favorite person in the world was Aiden. As awed by his immense size as he was by mine when we first met, Reed was fascinated when I took him to watch Aiden work out. Crouching to his level, Aiden spoke to him man-to-man.
“Van tells me you have a weak leg.”
Reed nodded, backing into me, his fingers grabbing on to my pant leg. I rested my hand on his shoulder, letting him know I was right there for him.
“Kids pick on you?”
“S-sometimes,” Reed whispered.
“You know, growing up, I was so small, I got picked on all the time. Smaller than you.”
Reed looked up at me, doubtful.
“He was,” I confirmed. “I’ve seen pictures.”
“I can help make your leg stronger.” Aiden told him.
Reed released my pants, shuffling closer to Aiden. “You c-can?”
“Yep. It’ll take some hard work. You’ll spend lots of time with me and Van here in the gym. You okay with that?”
“I like the g-gym.”
“Okay. We’ll make you strong. Once you’re bigger, you remember never to pick on anyone else, okay? You always stick up for other kids.”
“Okay.”
Aiden grinned, his dimples deep. His voice lowered. “You know what else Van told me?”
Reed shook his head.
Aiden stood and reached for a box. One I recognized. Aiden flipped open the lid.
“That you love lemon Danishes too.”
They’d been fast friends since that moment.
But nothing compared to his love for Sammy and Liv.
To Sammy, he was a big brother. Fiercely protective, ever patient, even when she insisted on tea parties and hats. She made him laugh and act like a kid. They watched movies, had popcorn fights, argued over the last piece of cake, or who left the door open. He adored her, and she returned the affection tenfold, smothering him in her kisses and cuddles—even when he didn’t want them.
His love for Liv was endless. She was the softness and light he needed. The comfort he craved and the intense care he required. She made it her mission to get him healthy. Gone was the thin frame, and his appetite now rivaled mine. I wasn’t sure how we’d manage to fill him up once he became a teenager. The baggy clothes, worn sneakers, and used glasses were a thing of the past. We had his eyes tested and proper frames fitted, and he no longer struggled with the glasses sliding down his nose. Liv worked with him, infinitely patient, and helped him catch up at school. She met with his teachers, helped with his homework, and soothed his worries.
As he grew more comfortable, his stutter began to fade. When he was tired or upset, he would falter, but it, and other symptoms of his trauma, began to disappear.
And for me, he was my little buddy. My little man and my best friend. He sought me out for advice. Asked me countless questions about the world. He came to me when Sammy drove him to distraction, knowing I would understand since “I was a guy too,” and “Dad, I just can’t today.”
We rode our bikes together. Baseball became our thing, and we took in as many games as possible, often with Reid and Aiden coming with us. I began to teach him how to play the guitar. He was a natural at it, and there were times we lost hours to simply playing tunes together. He loved to come with me to practice, and the guys in the band always made him feel welcome and let him jam on occasion.
He loved to work with me in my workshop. Sundays were his favorite day since my dad came over and the three of us hung out, working on our latest project. Never having a grandparent before, he loved the extra attention and perks, and he learned fast from Sammy how to work them.
It made me laugh.
We did so many things as a family. Movies. Bowling. Cheering him on at soccer, attending dance practice and recitals for Mouse, celebrating birthdays, weekend trips away, family game night. Our life was full.