Rhys stops talking and lifts his head to peer down at the little boy. And it’s the way he smiles at him—the way his eyes soften—that makes my heart skip a beat. He doesn’t look at him in a way that people who like children look at any old kid that runs past. He looks at him with pure… adoration. With a tinge of pride. Rhys looks at Milo like he’s as good as his.
