Rhys
"Hello, Father," I said lazily, letting out a soft yawn as I leaned my head back against the seat headrest and ran a hand over my exhausted face.
"Rhys, I watched the match and saw the news about Kayden," my father's voice came through the speaker, warm and genuinely concerned. "How is he? How are you doing?"
I shifted in my seat, a quiet sigh of relief escaping my lips at his tone. A year ago, I would have expected a grilling about hockey tactics, but things had changed.
Over the past few months, my father had been doing everything in his power to bridge the distance between us and get closer to Kayden and me.
He frequently stopped by our new mansion to visit Kayden, and the two of them often shared quiet chats over tea. He was genuinely stepping up to be a supportive father.
