The sun peeked through the blinds of a cozy suburban home in Charlotte’s Dilworth neighborhood, North Carolina, as six-year-old Alex burst into the kitchen, his inflatable donut-shaped pool float bouncing around his waist. “Dad! Dad, could a shark totally chomp us at the beach?” he asked, clutching a remote-controlled sailboat in one hand and a bright red sand bucket in the other. His dad, Nick, a 35-year-old graphic designer, chuckled over his steaming mug of Dunkin’ coffee, the aroma filling the room.
“Nah, buddy, no sharks are gonna mess with us,” Nick said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll be watching you like a hawk. Besides, sharks are more scared of us than we are of them—Hollywood just loves making ‘em look scary!” Alex’s eyes widened, but a grin spread across his face, reassured by his dad’s confidence.
“Dad, is it true I can eat ice cream every single day? It’s gonna be super hot, right? Pretty please?” Alex bounced on his toes, his excitement contagious. Nick sighed, ruffling his son’s sandy-blond hair. “Alright, champ, ice cream’s a go—just don’t tell your dentist,” he teased. “Now scoot, I think ‘Paw Patrol’ is about to start on the living room TV.”
Alex darted off, his pool float wobbling, leaving Nick alone with his coffee and thoughts of their upcoming trip to Myrtle Beach. This vacation had been a dream ever since his late wife, Valerie, was alive—Alex’s mom, who’d planned it all before a tragic car accident stole her away two years ago. The first year without her was a blur of grief, like a storm that wouldn’t quit. The second year? Still tough, but Nick and Alex had started finding their rhythm, leaning on each other to keep going.
Nick’s parents, Tom and Linda, hadn’t been much help, though. They’d never fully approved of his marriage to Valerie, and even now, they kept their distance from Alex, their only grandson. Nick didn’t hold a grudge—he loved them too much for that—but deep down, he hoped they’d one day embrace Alex as family. For now, he focused on being the best dad he could, working remotely to stay close to his son.
Nick couldn’t wait to dig into waffles at Johnny D’s in Myrtle Beach or maybe even try parasailing with Alex, if he was brave enough. This trip was their chance to make new memories, to laugh and heal by the ocean. He smiled, picturing Alex building sandcastles and chasing waves.
Finishing his coffee, Nick opened his laptop to message his boss via Slack. His company was cool with the vacation but hinted they might need him for urgent projects—he was one of their top guys, after all. Nick didn’t mind staying on call; working from home meant he could skip hiring babysitters and raise Alex himself, even if it meant juggling deadlines and dad duties.
Alex went to preschool some days, but other times, he’d flat-out refuse, and Nick, big on giving his kid choices, let him stay home. Usually, after a week or two of chilling at home, Alex would beg to go back to preschool, happily rejoining his buddies for a few months. It was their little system, and it worked.
Their flight to Myrtle Beach was set for the afternoon, so the morning was calm. Nick double-checked Alex’s suitcase, which he’d packed himself but let Alex add a small backpack to feel independent. As they stepped out of their apartment, their neighbor Jenny, a 22-year-old preschool teacher, caught them at the entrance.
“Hey, Alex! You pumped for some beach adventures?” Jenny asked, crouching to his level with a warm smile.
— “Totally!” Alex jumped, his sailboat waving wildly. “You sure you can’t come? It’s gonna be awesome!”
— “Bless your heart, kiddo, I wish I could, but work’s got me stuck,” Jenny said, standing up and glancing at Nick. “Y’all have a blast soaking up that sun!”
— “Thanks, Jenny,” Nick said, grateful. “And seriously, thanks for always looking out for us.”
— “No biggie, it’s what neighbors do,” Jenny replied, blushing slightly.