Between Eli and a biological father he would never know.
Between Nathan and a truth he never wanted.
Between a sick child and one side of his medical history.
Daniel looked toward Nathan.
"Your kid cheats."
Eli shouted, "I do not!"
Nathan smiled.
"Genetic."
Everyone froze for half a second.
Then Daniel laughed.
Claire covered her face.
Eli said, "That's messed up."
Nathan started laughing too.
Three years earlier, he could never have made that joke.
Now it felt strangely healing.
Eli paused the game.
"Dad?"
Nathan looked over.
"Yeah?"
"We have the family tree thing at school."
Nathan felt Claire tense.
Daniel became quiet.
Eli continued.
"Can I put both?"
Nathan understood.
"Both what?"
"You and Matt."
Nathan looked at Claire.
Then Daniel.
Finally back at his son.
"Of course."
"How?"
Nathan thought.
"Put Matt under biological father."
Eli nodded.
"And you?"
Nathan smiled.
"Put me wherever you want."
Eli considered.
Then grinned.
"Real dad."
Nathan's eyes burned.
Daniel looked down respectfully.
Nathan swallowed.
"Okay."
Later that night, after Daniel left and Eli went upstairs, Claire stood beside Nathan at the living room window.
Outside, the street was quiet.
Claire slipped her hand into his.
Nathan did not pull away.
She whispered, "Do you ever think about that first day?"
"Every time I look at that spot on the floor."
She smiled sadly.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Nathan watched the empty driveway.
"Do you know what I thought?"
Claire nodded.
"That I'd replaced you."
"Yeah."
She squeezed his hand.
"I couldn't."
Nathan looked at her.
She continued.
"Even when I was angry at you. Even after what I did. Even when I thought the deployment might never end."
Her eyes filled.
"You were still you."
Nathan said nothing.
Claire looked upstairs.
"And you were always his dad."
Nathan stared through the glass.
Three years earlier he had believed fatherhood could be stolen by DNA.
It couldn't.
DNA could change the truth of a birth certificate.
It could alter medical records.
It could uncover lies.
But it could not erase eight years of bedtime stories.
It could not erase the first word.
The first step.
The nights Nathan walked a crying infant through the hallway at three in the morning.
It could not erase teaching Eli how to swim.
Or the time Eli split his chin open and screamed for Dad.
Or the handwritten Father's Day cards.
Or the moment upstairs when a frightened boy asked:
Are you still my dad?
Nathan had answered without thinking.
Always.
Years later, when Eli was seventeen, he asked Nathan to take him to Matt's grave.
Daniel came too.
The cemetery was quiet.
Eli stood before the marker.
MATTHEW JAMES REEVES
BELOVED SON, BROTHER, SOLDIER
Eli held the old baseball glove.
Nathan stayed several steps back.
Daniel placed flowers down.
Then left Eli alone.
After several minutes, Eli turned toward Nathan.
"Can you come here?"
Nathan approached.
Eli stared at the headstone.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."
Nathan stood beside him.
"You don't have to know."
"I feel sad."
"Okay."
"But I didn't know him."
"Still okay."
"I love Daniel."
"Good."
"And I love you."
Nathan looked at his son.
"Also good."
Eli smiled faintly.
"Do you hate him?"
Nathan knew who he meant.