“Obviously, her favorite uncle.” I scoffed and moved Quinn to sit on my lap. Her eyes were already showing signs of sleep. It wouldn’t be long before she conked out. “Today oddly rocked, Cher. My co-coach annoys me to no end, but the kids had fun. And she ran the practice well.”
“She?” Cheryl’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. Her face was so expressive she had wrinkles on her forehead at a young age.
“Yeah. She. They paired me with this young blonde thing. Drives me fucking nuts.”
“Gid!”
“Sorry. She’s practically asleep.” I checked on her, and, sure enough, the hellion was passed out in my arms. “See?”
“God. I could try that for hours and nothing. But you come in. Ugh. It takes a lot to not hit you.” She rolled her eyes and handed me a beer. Her face paled and a ball of nerves formed in my stomach. “Hecontacted me again.”
I tensed up.Fucking Vic.“And?”
“Wants to meet for coffee totalk. He hasn’t been around in seven years and now he wants to talk? I could kill him.” She picked up a fluffy pillow from the couch and gripped it so hard I was surprised it didn’t burst. “I can’t say no, because he could use that as ammunition in the trial. If there is a trial. But I don’t want to say yes.”
“I’ll go with you. Get Jenny to watch Quinn.” I ran my hand down Quinn’s dark hair and fought the urge to take both of them and run. Vic wouldnotget custody. “Jenny would do it in a heartbeat.”
“Yeah. But she watches her so much during the season, I try not to abuse our friendship too much.” Her eyes watered again and guilt about the season hit me. “Sometimes it sneaks up on me pretty hard. Not having them. Like now. Dad would know what to do.”
And my gut turned into a hard pit, like a solid batch of concrete. Bile threatened to come up, but I swallowed it down. It had been years but I’d never gotten over it. I couldn’t. “We’ll get through this, Cheryl. Just like everything else we’ve had thrown at us. Trust me.”
“I do, Gid.” She gripped my hand and shook her head. “If I meet with him, I do want you there. I just don’t know yet.”
“Tell me the time and place. I’ll be there.”
“Give me the princess. I’ll put her to bed. You sticking around for a bit?”
“Yeah. I’ll finish this beer. Go tuck her in. I’ll plot my scavenger hunt for Thanksgiving.”
“Asshole,” she fired back, but it was playful. Our annual Titan Thanksgiving scavenger hunts were the best. Ten clues, each sibling timed and one winner. I’d beaten her the last two years and thoroughly enjoyed the ridiculous clay trophy that sat on my desk. Soon enough, Quinn would be in on it.
I used the free time to finally research Fiona Davis, because the girl intrigued me and she kept popping up in my thoughts. I didn’t like that. I needed to know her story. And as soon as I typed in her name, multiple links popped up.What the fuck?
Fiona Davis speaks at local high school—don’t text and drive, it kills.
Fiona Davis speaks about losing a loved one to texting and driving.
Fiona Davis gets personal. Texting Too Late Saves Lives.
Personal?What does that mean?I clicked on the link and a video popped up. It was dated a year ago, but she looked the same. This time, she wore a tight form-fitting dress that showed off curves I hadn’t seen.Hmm. Interesting.
But her voice captured me.
“My name is Fiona Davis and Justin had been my best friend for most of my life. At five, we bonded over Power Rangers. We cemented our friendship during the Pokémon craze, the Razor Scooter phase, and when life didn’t have cell phones. But then cell phones became everything. We began dating my senior year. We had plans, but all that stopped when he texted while driving. He veered off the road and…he was killed on impact.
I asked myself every day what I could’ve done differently. Could I have yelled at him to not do that? Have I ever done it? Yes. I have. But It’s more than that, and I’m going to tell you what you can do to make a difference. Because you never know how much you can affect one person’s life. Justin changed mine and I want to help anyone who will listen. You are not alone.”
My muscles tightened and a small part of my heart shattered.Thatwas why she wanted to coach.Thatwaswhy parents knew her—she spoke at high schools in the valley about it. TTL had gained popularity in the Phoenix area and even the baseball organization had done an event with them last year.
Fiona Davis was not who I’d thought.Nope. Not at all.I was an asshole. I closed my eyes as shame rolled off me in waves. It wasn’t pleasant, no. It was fucking miserable knowing I was the bad guy.
But I was a glutton for punishment. I kept researching her and stumbled across her social media. She would graduate in the spring. She’d volunteered at TTL for the past three years and, from her posts, she waited tables to save money. Everything about her seemed happy and normal, except for the fact that her boyfriend had died almost four years ago.
It was stupid to think we had something in common. But it was there. And I felt an inkling of admiration for her. Cheryl came back and, in her typical fashion, pestered me. “Gid, why do you look constipated?”
“Have you heard of Texting Too Late?”
“The charity to help spread texting and driving awareness?” She frowned and took a long swig of her beer.
