Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 176

Chapter 176

MATTHEW

“So the dinosaurs should be safe.” He buckled himself in with the efficient speed of someone who wanted to be buckled in so they could continue talking. “I’ve put the most important ones in the keep–at- home category, like we discussed. The middle–importance ones I’m bringing. And I’m bringing the Brachiosaurus specifically because it’s the largest and if Biscuit has to carry something in his mouth I’d

rather it be the one I’m least attached to.”

“That’s strategic thinking,” I said, pulling out of the drop–off zone.

“I thought so too.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror with the studied casualness of someone who was trying not to look like they were about to ask the question they were about to ask. “Have you thought about it any more?”

I had thought about it. Had spent part of the morning thinking about it, running through the relevant factors in the way I ran through most things now–not just the fear version, not just the worst–case scenario version, but the full version. The fear version said Theo needed to be close, needed to be within reach, needed to be in a location I could secure and monitor. The full version said Callahan was still active and could be positioned near Daniel’s house. The threat window appeared to have closed–the assembly had passed without incident, and the intelligence from Klaus’s office had gone quiet. And Theo asking for a sleepover meant Theo was building toward something, reaching for a normal that he’d been working toward for months, and blocking it because of my anxiety rather than because of genuine current risk was not protecting him. It was holding him back from his own recovery.

I had thought about it.

“I’ve thought about it,” I said.

“And?” He was doing the managed–expression thing. Lips pressed slightly together. Very controlled

“You can go,” I said.

The back seat exploded.

There was no other word for it. One moment my son was sitting with the studied calm of someone managing their expectations, and the next he was a completely different creature–arms in the air a sound coming out of him that I couldn’t describe as anything except pure joy, a physical expression of happiness so total and unguarded that it was like watching someone who had completely forgotten there was anyone else in the car

“YES. YES YES YES. BISCUIT DAD BISCUIT.”

I fixed my eyes very firmly on the road because my vision had gone slightly blurry and I was driving and those two things were not compatible.

“DANIEL IS GOING TO BE SO HAPPY. DAD I HAVE TO TELL HIM. CAN I CALL HIM? DO YOU HAVE HIS

MUM’S NUMBER? DAD.”

“I’ll get the number from Mrs. Patterson,” I said, keeping my voice entirely level through an effort I was not going to admit to anyone.

“WE’RE GOING TO WALK BISCUIT AND HE’S GOING TO SHAKE MY HAND AND I’M GOING TO SHOW DANIEL THE BRACHIOSAURUS AND DAD-”

“Theo.”

“-MAYBE HIS MUM MAKES PANCAKES, DANIEL SAID SHE SOMETIMES MAKES PANCAKES ON WEEKEND MORNINGS-”

“Theo.”

He stopped.

It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t even entirely happiness, though happiness was part of it. It was something more complicated–the specific feeling of watching someone you loved want something ordinary with their whole heart and being able to give it to them. Of understanding what the asking had cost him and what the receiving meant.

Three months ago, Theo had been a child who cried himself to sleep and couldn’t eat and sat in corners at school because the world had become a place where important people disappeared without warning and nothing felt safe. He’d been a child who ran through crowds chasing strangers because his grief had found a direction and his mind had followed it.

Now he was a child who’d organized his dinosaur collection into keep–at–home and bring–along categories and had researched golden retriever jaw strength and was excited about pancakes

I stayed in the side street for exactly two minutes.

Then I pulled back onto the road and drove home.

That evening, after dinner, after Theo had carefully organized the sleepover bag with the precise methodology he’d apparently been developing for days, after he’d told me four more facts about golden retrievers and shown me which dinosaurs were in the bring–along category and why, after I’d called Daniel’s mother and arranged the logistics and confirmed that yes, she did sometimes make pancakes turday mornings, and yes, Callahan would be in the area though she didn’t know that part–after all at, Theo sat at the kitchen table with his bag packed and his wolf on the chair beside him and ked at me with the expression he used when he was about to say something he’d been thinking about.

“Dad,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I know I was really loud in the car.”

“You were,” I agreed.

“I got excited.”

“You did.”