She nudges me with her shoulder. “No, you cannot. That was a one-time offer.”
We laugh again.
“I think we’re off to a good start,” Everly says, getting up. “We’ll keep adding to it.”
“Do you suppose I can go finish my slice of blueberry pie?” I ask.
“As long as you tell me how to sayI love you tooin Norwegian.”
Everly and I spend the rest of the afternoon in Mrs. Nelson’s kitchen before we go back to my mother’s house for dinner.She and I haven’t talked about Bran yet, but the door has been opened and I know that when we have a chance alone, we will.
Even though Mom only just met Everly, it seems like the two women already bonded and have known each other for ages. Not only that, but they’re all about Sonny, making me feel like I have a family again.
I wonder what it would be like to spend Christmas here—though after losing Bran, it’s never been the same. Without my brother and father, the house feels lonely. I worry about my mom being alone through the harsh winters, but she has the Pies and Spies group of friends and as she always assures me, she has Jesus.
Even so, I don’t understand how she can stay here. For me, it’s impossible to walk into my childhood home without feeling the strain of loss—Dad, Bran, and how I felt like I’ve let them down.
I glance at a framed photo of Bran in uniform, gazing innocently and proudly into the future. A future he’d never experience. The guilt of living when my brother didn’t threatens to consume me.
While Mom, Everly, and Sonny make homemade play-dough, I step outside. Thunder and lightning roll and bolt through me. My fists clench. I want to punch something so I can squash down the powerful emotions rising to the surface.
I miss Bran, but I’m still mad at myself.
A grunt stomps its way out of my chest and I consider driving my fist into the wall of the shed on the edge of the property. Throbbing pain would be a good distraction from the ache in my chest.
As I clench my fists, the late-day sun glints off my wedding ring.
I can hardly believe it’s real, but the earnestness in Everly’s eyes when we were in the church, and the rapid thump in myheart anytime I think about her, tell me this is my new life and it’s time to leave the old one behind.
I’ve been thinking about retiring, but the game has been my outlet and input for who I am. Or who I thought I was.
But who do Everly and Sonny need me to be?
Am I ready to leave the Bruisers behind? Say goodbye to the field and hello to farm and family? I can’t very well play football forever, but I can’t let the guys down by bowing out now.
I also don’t know what Everly and I will do when the season starts. But my thoughts mute when a radiant beam of sunshine parts the clouds, reminding me of the living, breathing beam of light I married. I don’t want to start the clock for when we’ll have to make big decisions or potentially enact MOC Club rule number three.
32
EVERLY
The following weeks pass with daily hikes, a couple of kayaking trips, and Grey drafting plans to build a play structure for Sonny, teaching him to swim, and the two of them puttering around the garden.
That kid loves blueberries and I love him and his father.
We spend Sundays on the mainland and visiting Grey’s mom. He says that she adores me, and maybe that does have something to do with my deluxe double-chip cookie recipe.
As days go by, it’s hard not to look at the horizon. Will I spend the football season in Concordia? Michigan? In hotels, traversing the country with Grey and the rest of the team?
Every morning, he leaves me a word puzzle, but in Norwegian. He’s helping me learn some basic words, including practical and romantical ones alike. Every night, we read to Sonny, one book in English and the same one in Norwegian.
I’ve also perfected my pronunciation ofjeg elsker deg også.I love you too.
As Grey, Sonny, and I get to know each other and form relationships—husband and wife, father and son, mother and son, it’s interesting to think about how we all got a chanceto start over. With each passing day, although Grey and I are officially married, it’s like we’re in the early stages of dating. It makes me a little nervous and a lot excited.
One cloudy afternoon, we spend in the game room playing billiards, watching movies, and occupying the coolest pillow fort ever. Sonny and I make sugar cookies that we shape to look like two-bite blueberries, using juice from the latest collection to color them.
My mind skips and hops from family traditions like Easter and egg dying, Fourth of July cookouts, the first days of school, and Christmas.
