Chapter 10 - The Warmth of Home
The sun set over the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of purple, rose, and gold.
Oliver ran up the porch steps, dripping wet from the sprinkler, wrapping his small, warm arms around my waist. His skin was warm, glowing, and alive.
"Mommy!" Oliver cheered, pointing at the sky. "Look at the colors! Can we make s'mores on the patio tonight?"
I knelt down in front of him, taking his small, warm hands in mine, kissing his nose until he giggled.
"We can make as many s'mores as you want, sweetie," I smiled, wrapping a soft, dry towel around his shoulders.
We built a small fire in the stone pit in the backyard. Oliver sat beside me, holding a stick with a marshmallow on the end, his dark eyes sparkling with happiness in the firelight.
He leaned his head against my arm, letting out a deep, contented sigh.
"Mommy?" Oliver whispered softly.
"Yes, baby?"
"I'm warm," he said softly, smiling up at the stars. "I'm always warm now."
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I pulled him close, holding him against my heart, watching the glowing firelight dance across his face.
We had walked through the coldest night of our lives, broken through the lies of a powerful family, and brought the truth into the light. And here, in the warmth of our own home, surrounded by love and freedom, I knew that my son would never be cold again.
