27. Levi

27

LEVI

T he library is unusually quiet today, the usual hum of whispers and rustling pages replaced by a serene stillness. As I push through the heavy wooden doors, my thoughts are focused on the upcoming exams and the mountain of reading I need to catch up on. It's been weeks since we cut ties with Lyric and though I try to stay focused, her absence lingers at the back of my mind like a dull ache.

I walk down the aisles, scanning for a quiet corner, when I spot her. Lyric is hunched over a table, her face etched with concentration and exhaustion. Next to her, a small child—her son—fusses quietly, his little face still flushed with the remnants of his bout with croup. She's trying to juggle him on her lap while scribbling notes and I can see the strain in her eyes.

A pang of something—regret, maybe—hits me as I watch her struggle. This isn't the Lyric who once stood defiant and strong against our taunts. This is just a person doing their best in an impossible situation. I take a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before I walk over to her table.

"Hey," I say softly, trying not to startle her. She looks up, surprise flashing in her eyes before it's replaced by wariness.

"Levi," she acknowledges, her voice tired. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," I reply, glancing at her son. "Shouldn't he be at daycare?"

"He's still a little sick," she explains, shifting him in her arms. "They wouldn't take him, but I have to finish this paper."

I nod, feeling an unexpected swell of sympathy. "Let me help," I offer, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I can watch him while you work."

She blinks at me, clearly taken aback by the offer. "Why?" she asks, suspicion lacing her tone.

"Because you need it," I say simply. "And just because I might be upset at you, it doesn't mean I'm going to take it out on an innocent kid."

She studies me for a moment, then nods, too exhausted to argue. She hands me the little boy, who looks up at me with curious eyes. I smile at him, hoping to put him at ease and he babbles in response, his tiny hands reaching for the keychain on my backpack.

As Lyric turns back to her work, I settle in, keeping the little guy entertained. Sitting here like this feels strange with a kid I don't even know, but somehow, oddly… right at the same time.

This corner is quiet, except for the steady tap of keys on the keyboard as Lyric works on a paper. I take a good look at Eli, struck by how adorable he is. He's so tiny, so innocent.

He hasn't experienced any of the crap that most people go through yet. I feel a fierce longing rise inside me, the urge to protect him from harm and shelter him from the horrors of the world around us.

"Hey, little guy," I say, bouncing him on my knee. He plays with the strings of my black hoodie, giggling as he's bounced around.

"Hi," he says, beaming at me. "Mama school?"

"That's right," I say, grinning back at him. "Mama's doing school work. You're smart for your age."

Lyric smiles and glances at us from the corner of her eyes. Eli taps his hands on my face, squishing my cheeks. "Dada?" he asks. Immediately, Lyric's head whips up.

"Oh, no, baby," she says quickly. "That's not Dada."

"Nah, you can call me Levi," I tell him.

"Wee-vi?" he asks, scrunching his nose in confusion. My heart melts at the way he pronounces my name and I chuckle.

"Close enough," I tell him. He puts one string in his mouth and chews on it experimentally.

I bounce him again, not entirely sure how I might play with a kid around his age, but I should be okay as long as I can keep him entertained.

Lyric looks up, a ragged sigh leaving her. "I need to go find a few books for this research paper. Are you okay if I leave him with you?"

I nod, giving her a reassuring smile. "Go ahead, Lyric. We'll be fine."

She still looks uncertain but eventually relents, standing up and gathering her things. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promises, looking at her son. "Be good for Levi, okay?"

Eli, seemingly understanding, babbles in response, waving a chubby hand. Lyric quickly kisses him on the forehead and heads off, casting one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the stacks.

I turn my attention back to Eli, who's now examining me with wide, curious eyes. "Hey there, buddy," I say, trying to keep my voice soft and soothing. "What do you want to do?"

Eli's response is a series of excited babbles as he reaches for the small toy truck Lyric had brought with them. I pick it up and roll it across the table, watching as his face lights up with delight. He claps his hands and giggles, a strangely heartwarming sound.

"Do you like trucks?" I ask, rolling it back to him. He nods enthusiastically, grabbing the truck and making exaggerated engine noises as he pushes it along the table. I can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. "You're pretty good at that," I say, genuinely impressed.

We continue playing and I'm surprised at how natural it feels. I never thought I'd find myself enjoying time with a toddler, but there's something incredibly rewarding about seeing Eli so happy. I tickle his belly, making him laugh even harder, and for a moment, I forget about all the tension and animosity between his mother and myself.

After a while, Eli starts to get a little fussy, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. "Tired, huh?" I say, gently picking him up and settling him against my chest. He snuggles in, his thumb finding its way to his mouth as he starts to drift off.

I rock him gently, feeling a surprising sense of peace. This little boy, so innocent and trusting, has no idea about the complicated world of adults. All he knows is that someone is taking care of him right now, and that's enough.

Lyric returns, balancing a stack of books in her arms. She stops when she sees Eli asleep on my chest, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, Levi," she whispers, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of gratitude and something else—something that feels like hope.

As she settles back in, I keep an eye on the sleeping boy, and something lurches inside me. The kid is so smart for being as young as he is. Also, he looks so much like Archer that it's almost uncanny. They have the same blonde hair, and their blue eyes are practically identical.

A complicated knot of emotions blooms in my chest as I start realizing things might not be adding up like I thought.

Still, even if there's a possibility here, I don't want to accuse Lyric while her son is literally sleeping on my chest. He doesn't deserve to go through any drama if it turns out I'm wrong.

Instead, I put the thought aside and rock him slowly from side to side, humming a tune that my birth mom sang to me as a baby. Eli sucks his thumb contentedly, letting out an adorable little yawn in his sleep.

"Thank you," Lyric whispers, drawing my eyes toward her. She's staring at us, looking back and forth between her son and me with something almost wistful in her eyes. "You're such a natural with him."

"Kids are pretty easy," I tell her. "Adults are the complicated ones. They make dumb, selfish decisions that hurt others."

I'm thinking about my own parents when I say this, but I notice Lyric wince and I immediately feel bad. I know that Lyric has made her share of bad decisions, but so have we and in the end, she was doing what she had to in order to protect her kid.

"I wasn't talking about you," I tell her. "I was thinking of my birth parents."

"Oh." Lyric nods, relief in her eyes. "Sorry. I know you don't like talking about them."

I shrug. "There's not much to talk about. I barely spent any time with them in elementary school and then I was only in their custody for a year when they were arrested. I don't have many memories of them."

"Still," Lyric says. "It sucks. My dad was always traveling for his job. He was a trucker. Mom left when I was a kid. I didn't get to spend a lot of time with my parents, either."

I realize this is the first time Lyric has spoken about her parents in a long time. She was always pretty private about her home life.

"It sucks not knowing much about the people you come from," I agree. I look down at Eli and stroke a hand over his soft hair. "Does he know his dad?"

"There's no dad," Lyric says quickly. "It's just me and him."

This has my suspicions up once again. "But he didn't come from nowhere," I point out. "So there has to be a dad, right?"

Lyric's got a look in her eyes, almost like a cornered rabbit. "There was never a father," she reiterates.

I bite my lip, uncertainty and doubt surging inside me. "Lyric," I say slowly, trying to remain calm. "Is Eli… our son?"