Anna nods, her eyes glazing the slightest bit. “They started scheduling chemo treatments at the same time so they could be there together,” she says. “Claire’s mom was out in California and couldn’t be here as much, so Mom kinda took her under her wing. I think it made it easier on them both.”
It’s nice to think there was something good that came out of last summer. Watching Anna lose her mom to an aggressive form of breast cancer while she was busy raising two little girls was the worst. I tried to drive up from Savannah as often as my schedule would allow, but I was busy finishing up my master’s degree and could only get away so much.
At least it was the off season, so Miles was around full time. And he had his own personal experience to lean on since we lost our mom to cancer when I was nineteen.
“Honestly, I think I’ve had enough mothers dying of cancer. Can we get a different script or something?”
Anna chuckles and dabs at the tears collecting in thecorners of her eyes. “For real.” She eats another animal cracker and takes a deep breath. “Having this baby without my mom around would be a lot easier if I knew you were going to be here.”
Her voice wobbles, making my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. “Anna, you know if there was anything else I could do to stay, I’d do it.”
“I know,” Anna says. “I just…stupid Canada.” She sniffs. “Actually, just kidding. I love Canada. I just wish you didn’t have to go back.”
“Me too,” I say. But it doesn’t even come close to expressing the intensity of my feelings. I understand immigration laws. And I respect them. But it’s been a very long time since Canada has felt like home to me—not since Mom died. Aside from my dad, whom I hope to never see again, the only family I have lives right here in Atlanta.
Miles, Anna, and their girls.
Living in their backyard the past few weeks has been bittersweet. Because now I know how amazing it would be if I lived here full time. Close enough to babysit. To surprise the girls with random outings to get frozen yogurt or go to the park. Even living in Savannah, I’ve always been close enough to drive. To be here for birthdays and Christmases and dance recitals and preschool graduations. But traveling from Canada—it will never be so simple.?
“I’m going to do everything I can to get back,” I say. “I just need a year or two to get things off the ground.”
Anna nods, but I don’t like the emotion brimming behind her eyes. I’m sure she doesn’t blame me. She knows what I’m up against when it comes to getting a visa, but I can’t help but feel like I’m abandoning her when she needs me most.
“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” she says wearily. “I’ve beentalking to Miles about hiring a nanny. So that’s something good, I guess.”
A nanny would definitely be helpful. The baby’s due in late March, which is right before playoff season. If I’m lucky, I’ll be here for the birth, but I’ll leave shortly after, and Anna will be alone with three kids six and under. If her postpartum depression is anything like it was when Olive was born, she’s going to need more than just a nanny. She’ll need support from her friends. From Miles. From me.
Except I’ll be fifteen hundred miles away.
Anna hands me the box of animal crackers and steps toward the pantry door. “I need to check on the girls.” She shoots a meaningful look over her shoulder. She’s putting on a brave face, and I can tell she needs me to let her do it. “But don’t hide from Carter Williamson,” she adds. “Trust me. He really is a great guy.”
I look into the mostly empty box and reach in for the last few broken bits of cracker. I’m sure he is a great guy. But that hardly matters.
He’s a hockey player. That’s strike one.
He’s Miles’s teammate. Debatable, but that’s probably another strike.
But most of all, I’m leaving. Looking for something new makes zero sense when I’m as good as gone.Strike three.
2
SARAH
As it turns out,I end up sitting withbothof the Williamson twins at dinner, though not intentionally. We’re eating buffet style, everyone filling up their plates and grabbing a seat wherever they can. Some people are in the living room, plates perched on their knees. Others are eating around the bar in the kitchen. I sit down at the dining room table while it’s still empty, but Miles and Anna quickly join me, followed by Theo, Carter, Holly, and two other guys Miles introduces as Jordo and Fly.
Holly pulls up an additional chair for Charlie, who has taken off her goalie pads but still wears her wings, and Miles has his youngest daughter, Olive, sitting on his lap.
“Jordan Ewbanks,” Carter says from beside me, “and Sebastian Cash. I know the nicknames can be tough to keep up with.”
I look over at him and smile. I’m used to Miles using nicknames for some of his teammates, but I always get overwhelmed when I meet a lot of new people, so having the extra help feels good. I shift my gaze away, suddenly realizingI’m staring at Carter’s intense blue eyes. “Thanks,” I say as I scoop up a bite of my potato salad. “It’s definitely hard to keep up with who’s who.”
“Jordan is a center,” Carter says. “Engaged to the woman over at the bar with the short, dark hair. Her name is Malia. Jordo is obviously short for Jordan.”
“Got it,” I say. “Jordan, Malia. And the other is Sebastian, but you call him Fly?”
“He’s fast,” Carter says. “That’s why.”
“I’ll never understand Miles’s nickname,” I say. “Why call him Brick when his last name isliterallyStone? Don’t they basically mean the same thing?”
