Saved By The King’s Gamma novel Chapter 35

35 /38

I follow Abbie into our room, Tyson settled on my hip, his little hands gripping my shirt tightly. His head rests against my shoulder, and despite everything, he seems oddly content. If only she had told me I would have got him for her; she never would have had to go to Kade. It’s hard to believe this little boy, who Abbie clung to so fiercely in her heart, is finally with her again. And now, he’s with us. Our son.

The word feels strange but right. Our son.

Abbie flicks on the bathroom light and kneels by the tub, turning on the tap. The soft sound of running water fills the room, and steam starts to rise as she tests the temperature with her fingers. Tyson wriggles slightly in my arms, and I glance down at him. His eyes are fixated on the water, his little fingers flexing, opening and closing in an almost squeezing motion. It’s subtle, but I can see the excitement in him.

“He likes water,” Abbie murmurs without looking up, her voice calm and sure. “It calms him.”

I step closer, lowering Tyson into her waiting arms. She scoops him up effortlessly, holding him to her chest for a moment before gently setting him down on the bathmat. He sits still, his head tilted slightly as he watches the water fill the tub, his fingers tapping lightly against his knees. I can’t help but notice how attuned she is to his every movement, every tiny sound he makes.

Abbie carefully tugs his little shirt over his head, and he grunts softly, tapping his hand twice against the floor when his head gets stuck. Without missing a beat, she pauses and whispers, “Okay, okay, I know. You don’t like that.” She switches tactics, loosening the shirt more slowly before slipping it off with less fuss. Tyson grunts again, this time softer, almost as if he’s acknowledging her effort.

I watch in quiet amazement as she works, the two of them locked in a silent conversation only they seem to understand. Every grunt, every flick of his fingers, every tilt of his head—Abbie knows what it means, responding instinctively without hesitation.

She crouches lower, her eyes level with his as she gently brushes his hair back from his face. “You’re safe now, baby. Mama’s got you,” she whispers softly, kissing his curls. Tyson doesn’t respond in words—but he leans into her touch.

I lean against the doorframe, folding my arms as I watch her with him. She doesn’t just love this boy—she understands him, in a way that goes beyond words. It’s like they share their own secret language.

“You thought he was dead,” I say quietly, breaking the silence.

Abbie nods without turning around. “Mrs. Daley… she said she killed him when he was a baby; I raised him but when I left, I thought for sure she would.”

Her words hit me harder than I expect. I can’t imagine the kind of strength it took for her to endure what she did, clinging to the hope of finding this boy again, even when everything pointed to the contrary. Kade used that hope to get her to go with him, dangling it like a cruel carrot, knowing she’d do anything for this child. And now, here he is—alive, whole, and in her arms.

Tyson wriggles slightly as she pulls off the rest of his clothes, but he doesn’t resist. Instead, he grunts softly again, tapping his fingers twice against his leg, and Abbie immediately understands.

“I know, baby. Just a minute more,” she soothes, turning off the tap before lifting him carefully into the tub. The moment he’s in the water, his entire body relaxes, and he lets out a soft hum, his fingers swirling in the warm water.