He didn’t look at me. He never looked at anyone. His eyes were the color of wet stones after rain—gray-green, deep, impossible to read. But his humming stopped. That was something.
Not hello. Not I missed you . Just my name, like it’s the most important word he knows. Beautiful Boy
“Beautiful boy,” she whispered from the back door, and I couldn’t tell which of us she meant. Maybe both. He didn’t look at me
“Hey, Liam,” I said.
Then Liam’s hand moved. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his palm flat on the ground between us. His fingers were pale, the nails bitten short. I watched, not breathing. He turned his hand over, palm up, and left it there. Open. Waiting. the nails bitten short. I watched