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As the h the alering, hovering over us When we pull up to Clayton’s four-car garage, he turns to ot I was here at all

“You want to come in?”

There’s a gentle sort of tenderness to his voice But, I shake my head

“I probably shouldn’t It’s getting late”

Clayton nods, almost as if he hadn’t heard me

“But could you?”

This time, he says the words even more softly As if it would be too much to actually hope for me to say yes

“Okay, but just for a little,” I cave

He doesn’t respond He’s already gotten out of the car and scooped Winston up in his arms

As Clayton conveys his son to the house, one of Winston’s eyes half opens and slides to his dad

“Hello sleepy,” Clayton says, fu with the key

“Here I can do that,” I say

He shootsand turn it in the lock

Inside, it takes all of five minutes for us to tuck Winston into bed His sheets are little red rockets in perpetual flight on a blue comforter canvas

Even after Winston’s little eyes have drooped closed and a contented smile eases onto his lips, Clayton still hovers by his bedside His eyes still haven’t left his son’s face Even in the dull light, the adoration on his face is unmistakable

It feels prying seeing him like this I’ve just turned ahen he says “Kids — there’s so really special about them”

He says it almost in a surprised way, like if had you had asked this question to hiiven you a different response

“They are,” I say, “but I’ve got to get…”

Without warning, he takesme to the stairs, he shoots me a warm casual look

“Sorry,” he says, as if reo of my arm, “it’s just… That near crash really shook me My Winston, my son…”

His eyes close and his teeth grit together It looks like every tendon in his body is standing out, like feverish worms under his skin

“Would it be too ht?”

At the words I feared most, I find my voice has left me