Alan had successfully nestled in his mother's bed, while Flynn Taylor slunk away defeated, obediently heading downstairs to rest.
Tossing and turning, he heard the distant chime of a clock strike. Without hesitation, Flynn Taylor threw back the covers, got out of bed, left the room, and went upstairs.
At the top of the stairs, he carefully used the key to open the door— he had made a point of slipping it into his pocket before he left.
Hmph, kid, you're still too green to take me on.
He slipped into the woman's bedroom, and the dim light allowed him to clearly see the woman sleeping in the big bed with the little creature nestled in her arms— his son.
In that instant, all his resentments towards his son dissipated, and he sat quietly by the bedside, watching the sleeping mother and child.
Ha, even Flynn Taylor has a son now.
Even though his son was being stubborn and not accepting him, he could feel his son's curious and sometimes admiring glances.
