She clapped her gloved hands softly, rhythmically, as if each sound were pulling him forward.
“Come on, my champion,” she encouraged gently. “You’re strong. Come to me.”
Daniel’s breath caught. Panic crawled up his spine. The doctors had warned him—Gabriel’s spine was delicate. One wrong fall could destroy everything. This woman was risking the only thing that mattered to him.
“No!” Daniel shouted.
He ran for the sliding door and yanked it open. The glass rattled violently. Marisol looked up—but didn’t move. Gabriel laughed. A bright, fearless laugh Daniel hadn’t heard in years.
The boy lifted one foot. Then the other.
One step. Two. Three.
Daniel froze mid-stride. Sweat glistened on Gabriel’s forehead. His legs shook with effort. And there it was—hope, dangerous and undeniable.
Then Gabriel tilted forward.
“I’ve got you!” Marisol lunged, catching him instantly, rolling onto the grass to cushion the fall with her own body. Gabriel didn’t cry. He laughed, wrapping his arms around her neck.
Daniel reached them, breathless, yanking his son into his arms, searching for injuries.
“What were you thinking?” he roared. “You could’ve killed him! He’s disabled!”