Ethan looked at him, suspicious.
“You’re rich,” he said. “Why would you want me?”
“Because Anna loved you,” Michael replied. “And because I realized my life was empty. When I saw you… the house felt alive again.”
Ethan clenched his jaw.
“You’re going to say it. ‘I’m not your dad.’ Everyone does.”
Michael closed his eyes.
“I said that once,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to be something I’d never been. Anna was warmth. I was work. Distance.”
He pulled out the letter.
“She asked me to take care of you. But I’m not here because I have to. I’m here because I want to try. Really try. To learn how to be your dad.”
Rain began to fall, thin and quiet.
Ethan searched Michael’s eyes for lies.
He found none.
The boy threw his arms around him with a strength that didn’t seem possible for someone so small.
Michael held him like he was holding Anna. Like he was holding a second chance.
Months later, in a courthouse that smelled like old paper and coffee, the judge struck her gavel.
“The adoption is approved. Ethan Whitmore, as of today, you are legally part of the Whitmore family.”
Ethan jumped so hard he nearly knocked over his chair and wrapped himself around Michael’s neck.