When the blond finally fell asleep in his arms, Clyde stayed still for a moment—just holding him, as if even the slightest movement might break something fragile.
Then, quietly, he lifted him.
Careful. Gentle.
He carried Ryley to the bed and laid him down beside the children, tucking him in as if he were something far more precious than anything Clyde had ever held before.
He leaned down and pressed a deep, lingering kiss to the crown of his head.
For a moment, he meant to leave.
He really did.
But his feet wouldn't move.
Clyde remained there, rooted beside the bed, his gaze fixed on Ryley's sleeping face—so peaceful, so untouched, so far removed from everything waiting beyond this quiet room.
And then it came back to him.
That same quiet serenade of lamenting love he had written not so long ago… echoing softly in his mind, like a confession he never dared to speak out loud.
His fingers twitched slightly at his side.
God…
