An odd, deranged smile curls on his lips.
“Great. Good.Nice.” He leans back in the chair like a mob boss. “How old is your—”
“There you are!” I spin—so quickly I make myself dizzy—to find Declan standing in the doorway, a toddler on one hip and another holding his hand. He smiles at me, but focuses on Deon. “We have some fans here that would love to play with you.”
Both children, a boy and a girl, are drowning in Seattle Mavericks jerseys, and they each wear a mask of uncertainty. The small girl on Declan’s hip burrows her head into his neck, and he whispers something in her ear.
She turns to look at Deon. “Can we make bracelets?” she asks.
A gentle, excited smile lights up on Deon’s face. “My Nathalie is the best at making bracelets. I can show you what she taught me.”
My Nathalie.
The way he claims her sends a pang of longing through my body. It’s clear how much he loves her by the way he says her name.
Declan passes off the children, who now cling to Deon. “There’s a craft area at the far side of the field.”
Deon nods and guides the kids out of the office, leaving Declan and me alone. God damn, he looks good. His cheeks are flushed in the way that tells me he’s eating and sleeping well, and the smile he offers me is real and wide.
“Hi,” he says, stepping closer. The air in the room disappears when he peers down at me with searching eyes. “How are you?”
“Good.” It comes out as a squeak, and his lip ticks up at the corner. “What’s going on out there?” I ask, pointing toward the practice field.
“It’s the first official event for EndZone,” he says, eyes lighting up. “It’s going really well, I think.”
“EndZone?”
I’ve never heard of the organization, but before I can ask more, Declan takes my hand and drags me out of the office and down the hall. The closer we get to the field, the louder the sound of laughter becomes, and when we step into the sprawling space, it puts the chaos in the hallway to shame.
Dozens of players run around with hundreds of children. There’s a buffet lining the back wall and tables for people to eat. One end of the practice field is lined with different booths and activities. I catch Deon measuring bracelet string and helping the small girl make a friendship bracelet.
Henry and Jack referee a game of flag football at the center of the field, and adults walk around, helping kids with what they need. That’s when I notice the lanyards hanging around the adults' necks. Some are social workers, therapists, and employees for the Mavericks. Others are prospective and current foster parents.
When I’ve stopped in my tracks, stunned, Declan elaborates. “EndZone is the foundation I started to support children in the foster care system.” He points to the back wall to a pyramid of duffel bags. “Each child gets a duffle bag, and depending on age, there are essentials inside. No child should ever have to shove their belongings into a garbage bag.”
He says the words like he knows the experience well, but before I can ask, he moves on, guiding me through the large room.
“This event is an opportunity for these kids to make friends, have fun, and get access to things they may need but don't know how to ask. We have suggestion boxes around the room for anonymous requests, as well as people they can talk to, if they need.”
“Wow.”
It’s the only word I have bobbing around my head.
“There are quiet spaces spread out around the facility for anyone who may need a moment to decompress, but EndZone also promotes and helps people through the process of becoming foster parents. This event is for them as well, where they speak with professionals about the needs of children in foster care.”
I pause again and snatch his hand. His brows crunch. “Declan, this is…” I fumble for the right word, “incredible.”
With his free hand, he rubs the back of his neck. “You think so?”
I nod, and a timid smile takes over his face.
“I’m hoping we can offer more scholarships and affordable housing to kids who age out of the system.”
“Declan!” Henry calls out from the other end of the field, where he’s being tackled by a gaggle of children. “Help!”
Jack stands at his side, doubled over in laughter.
Declan sighs. “I have to go save him,” he says, but it sounds like the last thing he wants to do.