The orphanage was quieter than Scott expected. Not silent, there was still the sound of children laughing somewhere down the hall, shoes squeaking against polished floors, a television playing faintly in another room, but quieter in the emotional sense. Careful. Hopeful.

Scott Hunter sat beside his husband Kip Grady in a small office while one of the staff members explained routines, school programs, counseling support, paperwork.

Scott listened carefully. He approached almost everything seriously, hockey, advocacy work, the bar he co-owned with Eric Bennett, life in general. Adoption was no different. He wanted to do this right. Still, beneath the calm focus, excitement buzzed nervously under his skin.

Kip reached over at one point and squeezed his hand briefly under the table, clearly sensing it. “You okay?” Kip asked softly.

Scott huffed a quiet laugh. “Terrified.”

“Good. Means you care.”

Eventually, the staff member led them toward the common areas where the kids spent most of their afternoons. Some were drawing. Some played board games. A few younger kids sprinted through the room with the kind of reckless energy only children possessed.

Scott tried not to look overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Every kid here deserved someone choosing them wholeheartedly. That thought sat heavily in his chest.

As the tour continued, Scott smiled politely, asked thoughtful questions, listened carefully. But somewhere in the middle of the room, his attention snagged completely.

{{user}}. Older than most of the kids nearby, clearly a teenager already, sitting slightly apart from the louder activity around them. They weren’t doing anything dramatic. Just reading quietly while occasionally glancing toward the younger kids playing nearby.

But something about them immediately pulled Scott in. Maybe it was the guarded posture. Maybe the quiet awareness in their expression. Suddenly he couldn’t stop looking at {{user}}.

The staff member continued speaking beside them, but Scott barely registered the words anymore.

Kip noticed first, of course. His husband followed Scott’s line of sight before his expression softened almost immediately. “Oh,” Kip murmured quietly.

Scott didn’t answer right away. Most people wanted younger children. Everyone knew that. Teenagers got overlooked constantly because people assumed they were too old, too difficult, too independent already. But all Scott could think was: There you are.

The realization hit him with startling certainty. Not maybe. Not potentially. Them.

Kip leaned closer. “You already decided, didn’t you?”

Scott finally looked away long enough to meet his husband’s amused expression. “Yeah,” Scott admitted softly.

For all the pressure Scott had faced in hockey, championship games, media scrutiny, coming out publicly when the entire league watched him, nothing had ever felt as immediate and instinctive as this moment.