Page 30 of The Blaze Between Us

Richard meets my gaze. We are two imperfect men who love Tasha in different ways, both working to be worthy of her forgiveness and trust.

"To James," I conclude, raising my cup. "And to all of you who make his world so rich with love."

"To James!" the room echoes back.

As cups are raised and the celebration continues around us, Tasha slips her hand into mine, our fingers intertwining with the easy familiarity of countless such touches shared over the past three years.

"Not bad for a guy who got caught in the rain with his daughter's friend," she murmurs for my ears only, her eyes dancing with the private joke.

"Best rescue I ever performed," I reply, leaning down to kiss her softly.

"Better than the time you saved Max from that bachelor party when he ended up on the roof of the hardware store?" she teases.

"We agreed never to speak of that again!" Max protests from nearby, his selective hearing apparently functioning perfectly.

The station erupts in laughter once more, and James, startled by the sudden noise, begins to fuss in his grandfather's arms. Richard looks momentarily panicked, but Tasha steps in smoothly, guiding rather than taking over.

"Just bounce him a little," she suggests gently. "Like this."

As I watch my wife teach her father how to comfort my son, I'm struck again by how thoroughly my definition of happiness has changed. It's no longer about stability or routine or even simple contentment.

It's this—my son being cradled by the grandfather who's trying to make amends, my wife patiently building bridges where there were only ruins, my daughter and her husband documenting it all, all of us in this noisy, messy, beautiful chaos of a life I never dared to imagine for myself after loss taught me to expect less.

Sometimes, the best futures are the ones we don't plan for. Sometimes, getting caught in a storm is exactly what we need to find our way home.

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