Pro athlete.Another title of the job I’ve had for eighteen years. And another welcome reminder that while it is my career, it’s not my whole life. A feeling that’s becoming more and more clear—moreokay.
I look back at the picture framed on his desk. His wife and kids. They’re at the beach in this picture, all wearing white shirts and khaki pants, smiling big. It’s cheesy and cute.
I want that.
Just maybe not on the beach. Fuck sand.
Sometime between yesterday and this moment, it’s become so obvious. I don’t know when I changed my mind and I don’t care. All I know is that I’m sure now.
My eyes flick to Dan and he’s sporting that sad smile again. His gaze moves to the picture. “It’s the best thing in the world,” he says softly. He understands.
I nod in hopeful agreement. “I think it will be.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
ELLIE
After a thirty-minute carride and a slow hobble up to Matt’s front door, I’m beginning to wonder if getting discharged today was worth it. I could’ve sucked it up and stayed for another day or two, but no, I just had to beg Maggie nonstop to work her magic and spring me. Turned out being a patient again was more triggering than I thought.
And because Matt left the hospital early to make sure everything was “set up” for me at his house, I had to deal with my sweet dad awkwardly trying to figure out how to help me in and out of the car. I should’ve taken Dev up on her offer to help after she stopped by this morning to check in.
I lean against the front door for a beat before walking inside. I think his parents will probably be in there and I am fresh out of socializing energy.Anyenergy, my body shouts at me.
“You okay, sweetie?” My dad pauses with my bag in his hand.
“Dandy,” I pant.
He shifts toward me and then stops. “Should I have Matt come out?”
“Nah.” I wave my hand at him and push off the door. “I just need to sit once we get inside.”
My dad nods and uses the key Matt gave him to unlock the door. I almost forgot he’s been staying here the past two nights. He might be more familiar with this house than I am, considering I’ve only been here once. Surprisingly, the thought makes me bristle a touch.
As he pushes open the door I’m bombarded with two things. First is the heavenly smell of fresh baked apple pie. Second is the absolute gut-punch feeling when my brain realizes it won’t be my mom’s. I’ve avoided apple pie for five years because of that.
My already weak knees are saved from hitting the deck when Matt appears out of nowhere and slides an arm around me.
He kisses my head. “Let’s get you to the couch.”
After my dad seems satisfied Matt’s got me, he lets us know he’s taking a work call and then disappears down the hall. Matt half leads, half carries me over to the living room and carefully gets me settled.
Crouched in front of me, he gives me a quick kiss and then pulls the ottoman closer before sitting on it. “Drive go okay?”
Blegh. “It was fine,” I say with a tight smile. “Where are your parents? Are you baking?” I sniff the air to indicate why I asked.
Matt gives a mild grimace at my first response. “Sorry, baby.” A quick squeeze of my knee. “They’re grabbing some groceries to make dinner tonight. And I baked, yes.” His cheeks tint pink. “Well, tried.”
I’m almost afraid to ask, my heart not ready to tell Matt I haven’t been able to eat apple pie since my mom died. Because it’s nothers. And he’s obviously nervous about his efforts.
“You’re good at everything, I’m sure whatever you made is great.” I swallow thickly. “So what did you bake?”
Matt hesitates, looking to the kitchen and then at me. He watches my face for a moment before talking. “I hope this was okay. I asked your dad for the recipe,” he says quietly.
I freeze.
“You, uh, mentioned missing your mom’s apple pie a while back.” Matt winces. “Mentionedis probably a bit strong. It took me a while to figure out what you were saying, and then…well, then I just knew I wanted to find a way for you to have her pie again.” He sighs and grabs my hand. “I should’ve asked, and maybe it won’t be the same, but after this whole ordeal I just wanted you to have something comforting. Something of your mom’s.”
Something of my mom’s.“You baked my mom’s apple pie?” There’s a wobble to my voice I can’t control.
