One Month Later
Jayce leanedback on the bench in the late March sun at the park.
His eyes were shut, the rays beating on his face and spreading sunshine through his extremities.
Or so he was trying to convince himself.
“Watch out,” he heard yelled and opened his eyes, then turned to see a basketball coming at his head.
He reached out and snagged it, then tossed it back to the boy in the baseball cap chasing after it.
“Nice catch,” he said, when the boy grabbed it.
“Thanks. I’m getting better with my rebounds but missed that one.”
The kid had been shooting hoops alone on the court to the right. There were other adults on benches or picnic tables and he just assumed one of them was the kid’s parent.
“I know a thing or two about basketball,” Jayce said. “Let me see your best shot.”
The boy laughed and ran back, got halfway between the foul line and hoop and executed a damn flawless shot, all net.
Jayce clapped his hands, and the kid came back.
“That was good, huh? I want a hoop at my house but Mom says she needs someone to deliver it. It won’t fit in her car.”
“Archer!”
The kid turned his head. “Hi, Mom.”
He lifted his hand to a woman who’d had an e-reader in her fingers. “Stop bugging people,” she said.
“I’m not,” Archer said.
“Cool name.”
“I think so too, but some kids at school pick on me about it.”
He waved his hand. “Don’t listen to them. I bet they are just jealous of your great shooting ability.”
“Ha,” Archer said. “I said that too, but Mom told me I have to be humble. Whatever that means.”
“I might have heard that a time or two,” he said. “Let me see you do a layup.”
“Sure,” Archer said, running back to the court, dribbling all the way with great ball control, then running to the hoop and tossing it up. He missed, but he was damn close.
Jayce stood up and moved to the edge of the court. “Bring your knee a little closer to your chest as you jump.”
“I tell him that too.”
Archer ran back to him. “My mom is coming. Ignore her if she’s mean. She doesn’t like strangers.”
“Smart of her,” he mumbled.
The woman stopped in front of him, the baseball hat on her head shielding her face from view. She was tall, maybe five foot nine, light brown hair blowing around behind her back and to the front some.
“Jayce?” she asked.That voice.He’d remember that anywhere.
“Farrah Hughes? Oh my God, is that you?”
