“Just because you don’t think it’s important doesn’t make it stupid,” Mara snapped, her cheeks going red. She looked scary. I wondered if maybe I’d get punished later.
Do I want to get punished?
My head flopped back on my shoulders. “That’s not what I’m saying. If it’s important to you, which it sounds like it is, we’ll make it happen. Alright?”
Mara sulked. The kids looked worried.
“Are you guys fighting?” Harper asked.
I got why my kids especially were worried. Something like this would have escalated into Sydney screaming her head off, and probably me yelling back. There was damage to undo.
I sighed and reached out to rub her shoulder. “No. Just trying to understand each other. When you care about somebody, you try to understand the way they think.”
Mara’s gaze was tear-filled and with some effort, she stood and walked over to my chair. “Hug please?”
“Of course.” I stood and wrapped my arms around Mara. “What kind of camera was it?”
“It was an old Canon. I had a bunch of lenses too.”
I nodded. “One of those fancy ones?”
“Yes,” she said. “Thanks for trying to understand me.”
I kissed the top of her head. “Doing my best.”
“Corner, Harper!”I shouted, crossing my arms tighter over my chest. “When are they going to fucking get it?”
“Probably when they’re not five,” Sorrento chimed in. “Way to go, Alice!”
I stood with Sorrento and Romelski as we watched our kids scrimmage.
“Alice should have shot that fucking softball a few minutes ag—there you go, Aspen!” I clapped so hard my hands hurt, pride swelling as I’d watched him progress over the past few months.
Mystepson.
I’m always proud of Harper, but there was something so special about seeing Aspen thrive when I knew he’d had a rough year. Kid deserved everything.
I held my breath, biting my knuckle as he got the puck again and had an open crack at the net. With a seamless wrister, he sank it at the back of the net.
I jumped and slammed the glass, losing my fucking mind for this child. “That’s my boy!” I shouted. Sorrento and Romelski celebrated with me, but what stopped me in my tracks was a man’s voice behind me.
“Go Aspen!”
I whipped around. Who the fuck would have known Aspen’s name? A man sat alone at the top of the seats with a baseball cap pulled low. He looked underdressed for the occasion, wearing a t-shirt and some sweatpants.
“Who the fuck is that guy?” I barked at Rome and Sorrento. “You ever see him before?”
“Stop staring at him, bro,” Rome said.
“How does he know my stepson’s name?” I said, my voice getting louder.
“Easy, Leroy,” Sorrento said. “Be cool.”
“Why, you fucking know him?”
“Well, no,” Sorrento tried.
“Then who. The fuck. Is he? Some child molester?”
