“It wasn’t. It’s why I stayed home for so many years.” She leaned her arms on the rail and continued to talk into the darkness. “Once he was older and able to express himself, he was able to predict when something wouldn’t work for him, or I would be able to anticipate signs of stress in him.”
I shifted myself closer to her, my hand inches from hers. “Like going to the game with 75,000 screaming people? That must have been overwhelming. How did he manage that, anyway? Did the box help?”
She met my eyes from over her shoulder, and in that moment, I saw how hard things had been for my girl.
“Oh my God, he was trying so hard, Shaw.” Her voice hitched with pride. “He wanted to go so badly. I bought new industrial earplugs for him to use.”
“Did it help?”
She nodded and glanced up. “It did for the first half. He would step out onto the seating area for a bit and then back into the quieter room to take a break. He did an amazing job of managing himself. He wanted to watch you in person, so he kept in his earplugs and did his own commentating, which was fun to listen to.”
“I caught some of that this evening. He’s quite good.” I grinned at how he’d imitated the voices of the other commentators in their intonations and cadence.
She straightened and turned toward me. “He got agitated once you were hurt. His sense of right and wrong kicked in, and he wanted justice for you being hit. He insisted it was a penalty. We left quickly, and Grace stuck around to see how you were doing. It was a tipping point, and he needed to decompress after that. That’s why we needed to go straight home.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned a hip on the rail, and stared at her feet. “We were really worried about you, though. I knew you had a lot of people around you…”
I reached for her hand, holding it gently, wanting her to look at me.
“I am sorry he had to witness me getting hurt. I’m sorry you both did. But thank you for coming to see me. It meant a lot.” I motioned with my other hand.
She squeezed my hand, and the corner of her mouth tilted up.
“Not that I want to get the crap knocked out of me, but at least something good is coming out of it.”
She shrugged. “That’s true. At least we both are at a point that we can be here for each other like we used to be. And I get to boss you around again. That’s almost worth it.”
Yes. Exactly. This is what I wanted—to have her back in my life. “Come here.” I couldn’t not hug her. I wrapped her in my arms, ran my hand over her hair, and breathed in her scent. It was like fitting another piece of myself back in place. I closed my eyes, tucked her head under my chin, and stared up at the night sky—the same night sky that had seen me do this so many times in the past. And I…well…I felt more like myself.
No lights, no glam, no stress to impress. Just Shaw with his Kelcie.
“God, I missed this.”
And she squeezed me a bit tighter in response and mumbled, “Me too.”
14
Kelcie
When I was young, my whole world revolved around sports. My father was the local hero and state champion football coach, two of my best friends were star Division One football players, and I was even a state-ranked lacrosse player.
Growing up surrounded by athletes, I knew I wanted to be a physical therapist. And after two successful lacrosse seasons, good grades, and being accepted into the physical therapy program—which would require years of education and semesters on rotation practicum—my future seemed laid out before me.
And then everything went off the rails. One of our closest friends, Shaw’s best friend and Grace’s boyfriend, Tyler, died tragically while away at college. Suddenly, our rosy-colored sunglasses of the perfect future were gone—none of us were guaranteed an easy road.
James had been on the men’s lacrosse team. He’d been so handsome, and we became fast friends with a lot in common. His schedule had been as rigorous as mine, and he was as dedicated to his degree and to his future as I was to mine. We fit.
There had been mutual respect, and we loved each other the way untried couples believed they did.
But our trial came right before Thanksgiving break when I discovered I was pregnant?—
I cut off the bitterness the memory sometimes evoked. While having Aaron was the best thing that ever happened to me, even if the timing wasn’t ideal, the following events were difficult to remember.
Telling James. Telling my father. Telling Shaw… How differently they’d all reacted. James had refused to deal with it. My father had stormed off and wouldn’t talk or look at me. Shaw had wrapped me up in his arms and told me we’d get through this—we would get through this—as if the baby had been his and mine.
James didn’t say that. He didn’t reassure me. But Shaw did. He’d always been my rock. Except, as my father pointed out, that rock was not meant to gather moss. Shaw wasn’t meant for a quiet life, which was where I was headed.
I pulled into my garage, pushing away the memories. It was done, and there was no going back. I went into the house to find the guys—my guys.
Tossing my bag and keys on the table, I found the remnants of a snack and a note in Shaw’s angular print. “Went to the park.”
