Not a player on his team.
I glance back in time to see Bill put his phone face down on the counter and return to their conversation without missing a beat. Noah’s eating with his full focus on Bill.
He’s in it.
And me?
My heart is pounding like I ran a marathon.
Because I’m watching my son, who I’ve protected from everyone, and this man who has every reason to walk out thatdoor to tend to whatever business was trying to pull him away but chose to stay. They’re laughing like they’ve known each other for years.
My hand finds the front of my chest, and I hold it there while I take a deep swallow. Man, I want to believe this is genuine. It’s so scary to think about what opening my life, and Noah’s life, would actually look like. We’ve been just the two of us forever.
I turn away, heading to the kitchen, but not because I don’t care.
I caretoo much.
seventeen
Ruth
Warmth generates from the freshly tumbled towels as I roll them like the spas do and stack them into piles on the couch. Noah’s voice carries from the kitchen, where he joins in thechores, doing his best to sweep. He’s been talking nonstop since I got home. Not that I mind. I love it, as it reminds me of how he used to be as a young boy. It’s just not his typical self since he entered his teens, disappearing into his room with earbuds and his phone. I usually consider myself lucky to get a grunt.
“Did you hear Bill say that I was fast?”
I roll a hand towel and keep my voice light. “I did hear that, and you are fast. Are you ready for the first game? It’s coming up.”
“Yeah, I’m always ready for ice time, but did you know what?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Bill said I need to pass more than shoot. Then later he said I could be a little more vocal. I was thinking about that after lunch, you know? I think he’s right. It sets you up to be seen as a leader if you can communicate well. He’s so smart.”
I blow out a heavy sigh. Bill is consuming Noah’s mind. If I’m honest, he’s sort of all I can think about too. It’s overwhelming. At least I used to be able to come home, where Noah and I had our own little family that was safe from Bill. I pause with my hands still on the towel. “You talked about leadership?”
“Yeah.” Noah takes a few steps out of the kitchen with his hand still wrapped around the broom handle. “He said real leaders aren’t loud all the time, but they need to know when it’s right to speak up.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I desperately dig for a matching sock, like that sock is going to save me.
Because my son bragging about Bill Was. Not. On. My. Bingo. Card.
Noah never had a male role model he connected with. That’s why I nudged him into sports. I purposely sought out the best coaches, but they’ve never been the one-on-one a boy needs. The coaches cared, but they had rosters to manage. They didn’t sit with him and give advice over pancakes. I clear my throat,wishing it was that easy to clear my anxieties. “So,” I try to steer back away from Bill, “are you ready for practice tomorrow?”
“Almost. I might retape my stick tonight. Bill said it is good luck.” He leans back, smiling like he’s had the best day of his life. After a beat of silence, where I risk an easier breath, he adds, “It was fun though. You know, talking to Bill. He’s not like what I expected for someone who played pro and also owns the team. I wasn’t nervous to talk to him at all. He was like a friend.”
I force a pinch-lipped smile while my insides twist.
This feels like things are falling into place without my permission.
Noah’s still smiling when he turns around, heading back into the kitchen. I sit on the couch, folding the same dish towel three times before I realize I’ve already folded it. I set everything back in the basket and catch my phone lighting up from the coffee table.
Bill’s name is glowing on the lock screen.
Thanks again for lunch. It was the highlight of my day seeing you and getting to talk to Noah.
Seriously?
I shouldn't reply.
But I want to reply.
But I shouldn'twantto reply.
