Page 28 of After the Rain

The request hung in the air between us. Ezra looked toward Cooper, then back at me, and I could see the internal battle playing out across his features. Professional caution warred with genuine affection for my son.

"It's okay," I said quietly. "He's just excited to see you."

Ezra hesitated for another moment, then his shoulders dropped slightly. "Just for a few minutes," he said, but I caught the relief in his voice.

Cooper's enthusiasm was infectious, and despite his obvious reservations, Ezra couldn't resist joining us at the playground. Watching him interact with Cooper with such natural affection, I felt that same inexplicable warmth I'd been trying to ignore all week.

But now I found myself paying attention to other details. The way Ezra's cardigan stretched across his shoulders when he reached up to steady Cooper on the monkey bars. How his hair caught the evening light when he threw his head back, laughing at something Cooper said. The careful way he positioned himself close enough to help but far enough to maintain appropriate distance.

When had I started noticing these things about him?

"Mr. Mitchell, watch this!" Cooper launched himself from the swing at the peak of its arc, landing in a superhero crouch that would have given me a heart attack if I hadn't seen him practice it a dozen times.

"Impressive form," Ezra said seriously. "I'd give that landing a solid eight out of ten."

"Only eight?" Cooper protested, hands on his hips in mock outrage. "That was at least a nine!"

"The landing was perfect," Ezra conceded, "but you could have stuck the pose longer for dramatic effect."

Cooper nodded thoughtfully, processing this feedback like it came from an Olympic judge. "I'll work on that. Daddy, did you see my superhero landing? Mr. Mitchell says I need to work on my dramatic timing."

"I saw it, buddy. Very impressive. But maybe we should save the flying for when you're wearing actual superhero gear."

"Superheroes don't need special gear," Cooper informed me with six-year-old authority. "They just need courage and good aim. Right, Mr. Mitchell?"

"Courage is definitely important," Ezra agreed diplomatically. "But so is safety equipment. Even superheroes wear protection when they're doing dangerous stunts."

Cooper considered this seriously while racing ahead to the walking path that circled the park. Ezra and I fell into step behind him, and I found myself hyperaware of the space between us. When his arm brushed mine as we navigated around a family with a stroller, the brief contact sent electricity up my arm.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable somehow," I said finally, needing to address the awkwardness between us. "I know you said you needed to maintain professional boundaries, and I respect that. I just... I value our friendship. I don't want things to be weird between us."

Even as I said "friendship," the word felt inadequate for what I'd been feeling.

Ezra's response was carefully measured, and I could see him choosing his words with deliberate caution. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, Wade. It's just that in a small town, people notice when teachers spend time with parents outside of school contexts. I have to be careful about appearances."

"But it shouldn't matter what people think if we're just friends, right?"

The question came out more intense than I'd intended. Why was I so invested in this?

Ezra glanced at me with something like surprise, and I realized my reaction was probably confirming his concerns about appropriate boundaries.

"In a perfect world, no," he said carefully. "But we don't live in a perfect world."

Cooper spotted another child he recognized and raced ahead to play. Across the playground, I noticed the same-sex couple from our previous visit—David and Michael with their son Jackson. They moved around each other with the kind of casual intimacy that spoke of long partnership. David absently handed Michael a juice box without being asked. Michael's hand briefly touched David's lower back as he pointed something out to Jackson.

Small gestures that spoke of deep familiarity, of two people who fit together naturally.

I watched Ezra's easy interaction with the family, noting how comfortable he seemed, how they greeted him like an old friend.

"Hi, Jackson," Ezra said to the child, clearly already acquainted. "How's your fort construction project going?"

"Really good! Dad Michael says we can add a rope bridge next weekend if I finish my math homework without complaining."

"That's a solid negotiation," Ezra said seriously. "Rope bridges are worth a little extra math effort."

David approached with a warm smile, his slight accent suggesting he'd grown up somewhere warmer than Oregon. "Ezra! Good to see you. How's the school year treating you?"

"Can't complain. These two are plotting some kind of architectural marvel that will probably require engineering degrees to complete safely."

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