“Jesus. We got it, dude!” Aiden says. “We all know we’re Donavans. We don’t need a formal adoption process or the official name change to tell us that. It’s a given. Just take the vote, Shane.”

Colton sucks in a breath beside me. My pulse starts to race again. A little at first. Then a lot. But this time it’s not from anxiety. The lack of panic and the presence of disbelieved hope pull me a little closer toward the surface.

“Shut it, Aid!”

“Always the boss,” Aiden says, eyes rolling, as Connor elbows him.

“Who is in favor of Rylee and Colton filing a petition to adopt Zander?” Six arms rise in the air without a moment’s hesitation. Shane flips the camera lens onto him to show his hand in the air. “And it’s a landslide,” he says, angling it back to my crew where they’ve all raised their heads, smiles on their faces, and patience gone.

I’m transfixed with the images as a few of them give a shout out to me until a scuffle ensues over hogging the spotlight and then the video stops. But when Shane goes to pull his hand holding the phone away, I reach out in reflex and grab it, my eyes lifting up to meet his.

I don’t know what to say. All I know is how I feel. And how I feel is that I actually feel something when there’s been nothing in so long. A sudden rainstorm in an arid desert.

My hand squeezes his wrist as I scramble to mouth the words backing up like a dam in my mind. Nothing comes out but I can’t let go of him. And I can’t look away.

Colton runs his hand up and down the length of my spine in reassurance as Shane lowers to his knees in front of me and puts his free hand on top of mine, holding steadfast to his. Eyes laced with concern and swimming with love meet mine.

“We know you’re not choosing Zander over us. You’re doing what you’ve always done. You’re trying to save him just like you have done for each one of us.” His voice breaks and tears well, despite him trying to hold it together. “We didn’t tell Zander about the vote, didn’t want to get his hopes up if you guys decide not to pursue it . . . but we also didn’t want you to throw the idea out because you thought it would upset us.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Colton says, his voice thick with emotion.

“There’s nothing to say.” He shrugs, bringing back thoughts of the little boy I first met. “I’ll admit when you first told me about it, I was a little shocked. Surprised. But at the same time, it’s what you said after telling me you’d adopt Zander that I heard the loudest.”

Colton looks back and forth between us and shakes his head as he tries to recall what Shane’s talking about.

“You told me Ry nixed the idea because it would make the rest of us feel bad. That spoke louder to me than anything. She was willing to hurt him to spare our feelings. It didn’t sit right with me. Ry, you raised us to look out for one another, take care of each other. Be a family. Well, Zander’s our family. So I mentioned it to Aiden. Played it down. Pretended I’d had a dream about it happening to see what he’d say. He thought it was brilliant. Didn’t have a problem with it. We went from there.” His voice fades off, but I hear hope in his tone and see optimism in his eyes.

“Shane.” It’s the sound of Colton’s stilted voice that causes the first tear to slide over.

“I just wanted to try to make things right.”

The curtain lifts. Huge body-wracking sobs take over my body as the curtain lifts to the highest it’s been since my mind fell into this depression. And I still can’t speak. All I can do is show them that the smile on my face is not forced anymore—a break in the black clouds. A ray of light flooding me with the knowledge there is still good in the world. That I’ve raised seven boys who came to me damaged and beyond hope—with all odds stacked against them—and have turned them into compassionate, loving individuals who have formed a family.

My family. Their family.

“Ry? Baby, look at me.” It’s Colton’s voice that pulls me out of this storm of emotion. I actually want to stay in it though, because it feels so damn good to feel something other than the weight of sadness. But I look at him anyway. I want him to see the glimpse of the real me peeking through because I know as good as this feels, as long as it has lasted, it will probably be gone soon. In my compromised psyche, I know you don’t snap out of postpartum depression so easily.

But it gives me hope. Tells me I can do this. That the glimpse will turn into more. Baby steps as Colton says.

“These are happy tears, right?” he asks as I glance over to Shane and then back to him. Both of their eyes hold a cautious optimism.

“Yes.”

I might not be broken after all.


FUCKIN’ BECKETT.