Ryker picked up the bag, then looked back at Owen’s bear.

The toy was missing one button eye, and the stitching along its spine was thick and uneven.

“That’s a sturdy bear,” Ryker murmured, reaching out a hand. “May I see him?”

Owen pulled the bear closer to his chest.

“He’s heavy,” Owen whispered, his voice cracking. “Daddy said to keep him dry.”

Ryker paused, his hand hovering in the air.

I watched Ryker’s expression change from cautious protector to sharp businessman.

“Your dad told you that?” Ryker asked.

Owen nodded once, his eyes wide and dark in the dim light.

“Can I hold him for just a second?” Ryker asked. “I want to make sure he’s safe.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Owen loosened his grip.

He handed the bear to Ryker.

Ryker took the toy. His brow furrowed immediately.

He weighed the bear in his hand, tossing it slightly.

“Too heavy for cotton stuffing,” Ryker muttered to me.

He turned the bear over, his thumb tracing the thick, dark thread along the back seam.

The stitching was fresh, done in a hurry with heavy nylon thread that didn’t match the original fabric.