He and I listen to a few chapters of an audiobook he chose for us last week. This one is a fantasy book with dragons and a make-believe land.
He sits propped up on his pillows with the book resting on his lap, following along as the narration plays out. I lay at his side with my hands tucked behind my head.
“Good night,” I tell him, giving him a hug when he starts to get sleepy. He holds up his hand, giving me the sign for “I love you.” I miss hearing his voice, but I’ll take this, too.
For the first few months after Jess died, he was completely shut down. So, every smile, laugh, and communication is precious to me.
Even if I never get to hear him speak another word, I’ll be okay. He’s here, and that’s all that matters.
His door clicks closed behind me, and I make my way down the hall and into my room. I flop onto my bed, holding my phone in front of my face.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I can’t make myself ask the question, but I know I need to. I really don’t understand my hesitation.
Just as my thumbs are about to start typing, a new message from her pops up.
Mystery Mom:I just realized we don’t even know each other’s names. My name is Abby, and my son is Maverick.
CHAPTER NINE
Abby
“Mom,when are they going to get here?” Mav asks, hopping off the swing.
“They should be here anytime. Remember, we got here a little early.”
He nods, moving over to one of the climbing structures. It is kind of adorable how eager he has been for this little park hangout with his bestie.
I glance down at my phone, making sure I didn’t miss a text from Oliver’s dad. He never responded after I told him my name last night.Nothing.
I’m not mad about his lack of response, but it does seem kind of odd.
Tires crunch along the gravel as a car pulls into the parking lot behind us. “They’re here,” Mav shouts, running to the sidewalk.
“Don’t run in front of the truck,” I yell after him.
As soon as the truck comes to a stop, the blond-haired boy from school bounds out of the backseat. He and Maverick take off toward the climbing wall.
When I turn back to face the truck, my jaw drops. My brain can’t even piece together what the hell is happening.
How ishestanding in front of me right now?How?
He’s a few years older, but it’s definitely Kane. His light brown hair and blue eyes are still the same. His beard has gotten a little grayer.
“Kane?” His name comes out raspy and barely audible.
He slides his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Hi, Abby,” he says in that familiar voice.
I might have only heard it for one night, but I would still recognize it anywhere.
“How are you here right now?”
He points to where the boys are playing. “Oliver is my son.”
Logically, I know this, based on how they just arrived in the same car. Slowly, piece by piece, the puzzle starts to take shape in my mind.
I have so many questions, but I can’t think of anything other than him being only a few feet away. It is so good to see him.
I close the distance between us. He opens his arms just in time for me to collide with his chest. Our arms band around each other, holding tight like we might just be each other’s lifelines.
