5
Nash
I sit on a park bench, watching the little boy named Nolan play in the sandbox. He’s bright-eyed and alert, filling a bucket and using a shovel to pat the sand down. Smart kid.
My boy. My son.
My stomach flips. I’ve been numb all week. In a stupor, really. I hardly remember how I filled the hours until I could drive back to see them.
But I’m not fit to be a dad. Or be a decent mate. Not the kind Denali deserves. I’m nothing but a shell of a male with an animal I can barely control.
For the fortieth time, I survey the park for dangers, cataloging every person, every piece of equipment that might cause injury.
Denali approaches, stopping a few feet away from me. She texted me the address for this park. I guess she didn’t want me to come to her place again, and I gotta respect t
