Chapter 4: Broken Toys and Second Chances

I wandered out of the bedroom, the reality of suburbia crashing down on me. The banister shone, the air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner, and outside, a neighbor waved as an American flag fluttered on their porch.

Downstairs, Finn sat quietly in a pool of sunlight, surrounded by puzzles and battered toys. The morning light painted golden stripes on the floor. He looked so small and careful, his head bowed, hands working quietly. No noise, no chaos—just a kid trying to be invisible.

My heart ached. No kid should have to be this careful.

I hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping over a toy truck. “Hey, buddy, what are you playing? Want Dad to play with you?”

Finn stared at me with wide eyes, then stood up straight, almost like he expected to be scolded. “Dad.”

I knelt beside him, my knees creaking. “Mind if I join?” I ruffled his hair. It was impossibly soft, and he leaned into my hand, closing his eyes like he hadn’t felt that in a long time.

For a moment, I saw what I’d missed. Had I really been that absent?

But Finn smiled, forgiving and eager, and soon we were working on a puzzle together. The pieces were sticky with peanut butter fingerprints. Finn giggled when I tried to fit a square in a round hole.

“Hey, is this the only toy you have?” I glanced around for something—anything—more fun.

Finn looked nervous. “Dad used to say other toys were too noisy and would get mad if I played with them.”

The words hit me like a gut punch. My chest went tight. Was I really that dad—the one who made his kid scared to play?

I swallowed hard, the shame almost overwhelming. What happened to the easygoing me? Had I turned into a stranger?

Just as I started to spiral, the doorbell rang, echoing through the house. Finn stiffened, clutching his teddy bear. My nerves jumped. It was Derek.