I practically rip it open and the moment I do, my heart fills with a joy only Tommy’s giggle can create. “Did you think I wasn’t here?” he shouts.

I nod, hold a hand to my chest and roll my eyes at him.

He laughs harder. “I tricked you.”

After unbuckling him from his car seat, I help him down from the giant SUV. He stands in front of me, trucker cap on backward, Globe shirt, skinny jeans, Globe shoes, and… pierced ear? I gasp, silent, and reach out and fiddle with it.

Tommy giggles. “Gnarly, right? Nico and I got it done together in Dallas. Daddy wouldn’t let me get a tattoo, though.”

I look over at Josh, my eyes wide.

He just shakes his head. “Don’t get me started.”

“Hey Becs!” Tommy says, and I give all the attention in all the world back to him. He lifts his hands, his little fingers moving in front him. He signs, “M Y B E C C A”

My jaw drops, along with my stomach and I cover my mouth and I cry. Then I laugh. And I cry and laugh some more. And yeah, I look crazy, but it feels like everything is hitting me at once.

Josh consoles me.

So does his mother.

And Tommy looks on as if he’s done something wrong, which he hasn’t. So I take him in my arms and lift him in the air and I hold him. I hold him and I hold him and I hold him and I’m never, ever letting him go.

I’d spent the morning in a daze, not wanting to come to terms with a loss. Because as much as I didn’t want to admit it to anyone, especially to myself, Lexy’s news felt just like that—a loss. But all it takes to redefine that word and all the feelings that come with it is a single boy’s laughter, and a sign.

His signing meant everything.

Changes everything.

I carry Tommy, who’s already half my size, on my hip and wrap my free arm around Josh’s waist. Then I lead them all toward Say Something—a safe place.

Only it’s not my safe place.

My safe place isn’t a place.

It’s bright brown eyes and shaggy dark hair atop identical smiles. It’s the sound of laughter, of the spinning of four wheels on concrete. It’s touches of ease, of comfort.

My safe place is the knowledge that when I fall, they will help me fly. Help me soar. Help me coast.

* * *

For the day, Say Something has been converted to a party, of sorts. A hair shaving party to raise money for a little girl named Vanessa. She’d been one of our kids for a while, moving from one foster home to another. Recently, she’d been diagnosed with leukemia, and because of the costs and time involved in her care, her last foster parents were unable to accommodate her. Without a second thought, Sandra took her in and now she kind of belongs to everyone at Say Something. At only eight, Vanessa, or Nessa as she liked to be called, is wise beyond her years and stupidly adorable. Before she lost most of her hair, people said we could be sisters… only she had big, bright brown eyes and I had green. Or emerald, as Josh would say.

The moment we step inside, Tommy’s instantly squirming out of my arms and wanting to play. I set him on his feet and before I can do anything else, he’s running toward the bounce house. “I got him,” Ella says, her pace much slower as she goes after him.

Josh puts his arm around my shoulders. “So this is it, huh?” he says, looking around. He’s never admitted to the large donation that I’m sure came from him, and I’ve never asked, but the new paint on the walls, the new computers, and the new carpet he’s taking in all exist because of him. Because of his heart.

“I want you to meet someone,” I sign.

“I’m on my best behavior,” he jokes. “Lead the way.”

It only takes a minute to find Joey—it’s hard to miss a guy dressed as a clown, giant red shoes and wild, orange wig. His back is turned when I reach him. I push down the excitement at seeing Joey’s reaction to his hero—the Josh Warden—being here, and tap his shoulder. He glances at me quickly, says, “Hey Becca,” then continues to make a mess of a balloon animal.

“This is that Joey kid? The Santa?” Josh murmurs in my ear.

I nod.

Now Josh taps his shoulder.

Joey turns, his eyes widening when he sees Josh. He falls back a step, and then another, and another, until he’s on his back on the floor with a dozen kids (and me) all laughing at him. “Joey fallded,” one kid yells through a fit of laughter.

Josh releases me to offer Joey his hand. “Hey, man. It’s good to meet you in person.”

Joey takes Josh’s hand, and when he’s on his feet again, he glares at me. “I hate you,” he says.

“Hate’s a bad word!” Zac, one of the boys, yells. His eyes narrow at Joey, right before he goes for the junk punk.

I laugh harder.

Josh, being a guy and knowing what a junk punch must feel like, glares at me just like Joey had. He places a hand on Joey’s shoulder and bends at the knees so he’s eye to eye with a hunched over Joey. “You good?”

“Oomph.”

“Who are you?” Zac asks Josh.

“I’m Josh.” He points to me. “I’m Becca’s boyfriend.”

“No!” Zac yells. “I’m Becca’s boyfriend!”

“Umm…” Josh looks to me, his eyes pleading.

“Fight for me,” I sign. Joking, of course.

He looks down at Zac, his throat bobbing with his swallow. He covers his junk, just in case. “I’ve known her longer,” is all he can comes up with.

“I know you are. You said you are. But what am I?” Zac sings, his hips swinging from side to side.

“You—you’re…” I wish I was recording this so I could upload it to YouTube and have the world witness Josh, a man, trying to find verbal retaliations against a nine-year-old. Josh smiles wide, an insult coming to him. “You’re a butt sniffer!”

Okay.

Zac’s eyes narrow as they move to Josh’s protected junk. “Well, I’m rubber and you’re glue, what you say bounces off me and sticks to you. You butt sniffer!”

Josh stands to full height. “You can have her,” he says, sticking out his tongue at Zac. “She has smelly farts!”

The kids cackle with laughter while I turn beet red.

Josh points to me. “Becca the stink bottom!”

* * *

We spend the next hour going from person to person while I introduce them to Josh. They all know about him from what I’ve told them in the past, and they’re all as happy to meet Josh as Josh seems to be to meet them. He plays with the kids and speaks with the adults, charming the crap out of everyone. And I love him for it. I love that he is who he is, but he still has the time and the genuine interest to listen to Sandra tell him all about the strange noise coming from her basement.

We catch up with Tommy at the Play-Doh table, sitting next to Vanessa, telling her all about a teleporter he plans on building. “It’s going to deliver ice cream machines to all the houses.”

Nessa smiles at him.

“Do you like ice cream?” he says, thumping his fist down on a slab of Play-Doh.

“I guess,” Nessa says, shrugging.

“Is it your birthday?”

Nessa’s lips purse before she says, “No. Why?”