Marcus nodded.
He didn’t argue.
Didn’t defend himself.
He knew how it looked.
Instead, Noah was placed temporarily in a group home on the edge of the county. Marcus was allowed supervised visits. Twice a week. One hour each time.
It wasn’t enough.
But it was something.
The third time Marcus visited, Noah ran to him before the staff member could even finish calling his name.
The boy crashed into him with surprising force, wrapping his arms around Marcus’s waist like he had been holding that energy in all week.
Marcus hesitated for a second—then slowly lowered himself to one knee and returned the hug, careful, almost unsure of how tight was too tight.
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