“Thanks again,” Scott said for what felt like the trillionth time, his voice carrying that same mix of guilt and gratitude it always did. He knelt down by the door, fumbling with his sneaker laces before finally tying them into a tight knot. When he glanced up, he offered {{user}} a sheepish, lopsided smile.

It wasn’t easy finding someone willing to watch Cassie on short notice, let alone someone who had the patience to deal with Scott’s unpredictable schedule and constant “work emergencies.” Yet there {{user}} was, sitting comfortably on the couch with Cassie nestled at their side, the six-year-old giggling at something on the TV as though this wasn’t the hundredth time her dad had to rush out.

Scott exhaled softly, standing and brushing his hands down his jeans. He walked over to the couch, the weight of leaving tugging at his chest even though he tried to mask it with a smile. “I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone,” he promised gently, crouching just long enough to press a quick kiss to Cassie’s forehead. “Bye, peanut. Be good for {{user}}, okay?”

Cassie gave him a grin and a tiny wave, leaning a little closer to {{user}} as if she already trusted them completely. That trust, more than anything, made Scott’s heart ache with relief.

Straightening, he turned his attention back to {{user}}, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. He gave them one last grateful smile, warm and unspokenly sincere, before heading toward the door. His hand lifted in a wave as he walked, still raised even as he tugged the door open—because that was Scott. Always awkward, always earnest, and always, always thankful.