ELLA
Letter #21 Ella,
Yes, I can believe the guy at the library asked you out. No, I don’t think it’s odd, or a prank. Why would you? It’s not like I haven’t seen your picture, which yes, I know, puts me at an advantage between us. Not sure if you noticed, but you’re definitely not hurting in the looks department.
Go ahead, give me your excuses. Yes, you have two kids, and yes, one of them is facing incredible odds. You own a very time-consuming business, and from what I know about you, you also tend to put yourself last when factoring anything into your life.
But listen to me—scratch that…read me—none of that makes you “undatable,” as you called it. Do you know what’s undatable? Someone who’s selfish, or consumed with the tiny things in life that don’t mean anything. To me, the most attractive quality in a woman is her ability to give of herself, and Ella, you do that in spades.
I get that you haven’t gotten out there since Jeff walked out. I understand that for the last five years you’ve been consumed with raising your kids, building your business, and generally being everything to everyone. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t let someone in. Especially now.
I’m not going to say you need someone to lean on, because I know you’ve become the expert on standing on your own. But with what you’re facing, I know it would help to have someone there to support you in the moments when you feel like it’s impossible. Go out to dinner with the guy, Ella. Even if nothing comes of it, you’ll know you gave the universe the shout-out. You can’t turn away every good thing that
comes to you because you’re scared of what might happen, or not happen. That’s the coward’s way out, and you are no coward.
And honestly, who wouldn’t fall for you? We’re three months into this, and I’m half in love with you without ever having been in the same room. Just give the guy—give yourself—a shot at some happiness, because you deserve it.
Or you could wait until January, when I get to randomly show up at your door.
Just food for thought.
~ Chaos
…
“Need anything else?” I asked Maisie, handing her the iPad. She was all set up in the living room of the main house’s residence, within shouting distance of Hailey and Ada.
“Nope,” she replied, popping the P as she opened one of the apps her teacher had recommended.
“Your belly feel okay?” It had been two weeks since her surgery and, while the incision site looked to me like a monstrous, pink snake slithering across my daughter’s belly, she swore the pain was nearly gone.
Maybe it was the way she’d slept the first few days after, or her sore throat from the twelve hours of intubation, or the feeding tube that had stayed with her for days, but I had a hard time believing her. Or perhaps it was that my pain tolerance on her behalf was so much lower than hers had grown to be.
“Mom, I’m fine. No puking or anything. It’s okay. Go.” She looked up at me. “Besides, as soon as you leave, Ada will give me the sugar-free ice cream.”
“I don’t think you were supposed to tell me that.” I laughed and pressed a kiss to her scalp, still shiny and smooth. Overhauling her diet had been a challenge, that was for sure. “You know why it has to be sugar-free, right?”
“You said sugar feeds the monster inside me. And even though the big part of the monster is out, the rest of him is in my blood. So we can’t feed the monster.”
“Right. I’m so sorry, Maisie.”
She looked up at me with eyes that felt decades older. “It’s okay, the monster doesn’t like this kind.”
I kissed her again before I left, grabbing her binder on the way out the door after letting Ada know I was headed out.
Stopping at the entryway mirror for a moment, I tried to smooth back the frizz that had developed in the braid I’d put into my hair this morning.
“Stop. No matter what you do, you’re still gorgeous,” Hailey remarked as she came up behind me.
“Ha. I can’t even remember the last time I went to the gym or put on some makeup. I’m batting for doesn’t-look-psycho. Gorgeous is way out of my league.”
She propped her head on my shoulder, and our eyes met in the mirror. “You have the kind of gorgeous that shines through no matter what.”
“Looking for a raise?” I teased.
“Nope. Just telling the truth. Now get out of here before you miss that meeting. Ada and I have Maisie. Don’t you worry.”
“Worrying has become my default emotion.”
She searched my face for a second before her eyes lit up, which meant she was about to suggest something ludicrous. “I know just the thing.”
“Hailey…” I groaned. We were friends, but her idea of fun didn’t exactly fit with my life.
“Let’s double date. I’ll grab Luke, and you bring Beckett. We can go out to a movie, or dinner, or try out that new karaoke bar in the Mountain Village.”
“A bar?” I let my tone tell her exactly what I thought about that one. That was the life of carefree people who didn’t have responsibilities like kids. Or cancer. Or a kid with cancer. You know, normal twenty-five-year-olds.
“Yes. A bar. Because if anyone could use a drink, it’s you, Ella. And I
know Beckett would be up for taking you out.”
My spine stiffened. “We’re not…it’s not like that.” Just the thought of Beckett had a blush rising to my cheeks.
“That man has his eyes on you whenever you’re in the same room. Come on, how many times did he drive back to Denver after Maisie’s surgery?”
I turned away from the mirror to face Hailey. “Three times.” “In two weeks.”
And every time he’d shown up, my heart had done this stupid, crazy leaping move. Something had changed the day of Maisie’s surgery. Not just because he’d been there, but because I’d wanted him to be. It had been the first time during Maisie’s treatment that I’d allowed myself to not just lean on someone, but let them hold me up.
The morning he’d shown up with Colt as a surprise—about three days after the surgery—I’d just about melted into a puddle of goo. He seemed to know exactly what I needed—what Maisie needed—and provided it before I could even ask for it.
“Yes, in two weeks, but it’s not romantic.” “Uh-huh.”
“It’s not! He’s here because Ryan asked him to be. That’s it. Nothing more.” At least that’s what I told myself whenever I found those green eyes watching me or me watching him.
“And you don’t find him attractive or anything, right?”
“I…” Dark green eyes the color of pine, thick hair and thicker arms, washboard abs that trailed down to—get a grip. “Of course I do. I’ve seen the man.” And felt him.
I’d felt the protective way he’d held me—tight, but not oppressive, as if he’d simply known that I needed to be held together in that moment. Felt the gentleness of his hands when he’d wiped away my tears after sobbing out everything I’d held in. Felt the joy he was capable of when Colt had climbed into bed next to Maisie and held his sister. Felt the overwhelming capacity for love that he had even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it.
Yeah, I felt entirely too much when it came to Beckett.
“Well, yeah. You’d have to be dead not to notice. Because he’s hot, Ella. And not in a passingly nice kind of way. He’s hot in a take-me-on-the- kitchen-counter-and-let-me-bear-your-children kind of way. Plus, he’s starting to speak in more than one-word answers, which shows definite potential in the moving-past-broody department.”
A flash of something hot and ugly hit my stomach and was gone as quickly as it came. Jealousy. There was no reason to be jealous of Hailey. Sure, she was beautiful, and available, and didn’t have so much baggage attached to her that there was a giant Samsonite tag on her forehead, but the minute we’d come home from Denver, she’d completely stopped seeking out Beckett. And it wasn’t because she wouldn’t be interested. I’d heard the gossip getting coffee yesterday—half of Telluride was interested in the newest Search and Rescue member.
It was because Hailey thought maybe I was interested.
“He has always spoken in more than one-word answers, and I already have children, remember? Besides, speaking of children, if I don’t walk out right now, I’m going to be late for this meeting.”
“Okay. Go. Run. But that man lives next door, and from what I’ve seen, you’re going to have to deal with all that”—she motioned to my red face
—“pent-up frustration somehow.”
A guest walked in, the bell ringing with the light tinkling sound that had taken me hours to decide on.
“Saved by the bell,” Hailey whispered before turning to our new guest. “Welcome to Solitude! You must be Mr. Henderson. Your cabin is all ready for you and your wife.” Her smile was wide and mirrored by the hipster- looking twentysomething.
Summer hiking season was almost upon us.
I took my opportunity, and the binder, and escaped out the front door.
It was 10:31 when I pulled in, but I parked in the elementary school’s designated spots like a good parent and took the extra minute hit to my already tardy arrival.
“Ella!” Jennifer smiled out at me through the glass. “They’re all set up
for you.”
“Hey, Jennifer.” I signed in on the clipboard and opened the door when the buzzer sounded.
“How is Maisie feeling?” she asked as she walked me into the offices that sat just behind the reception desk.
“She’s good, thank you. Surgery went well, and she’s ready to return to school on Monday.”
“Really? Already? That’s amazing!”
“You’d be shocked to see how quickly kids bounce back, and as long as her levels are good, she’s safe here.”
“I just can’t believe she beat it that quickly!”
Oh, no. I saw that look in her eyes, and I hated to be the one to dash it. “No, Jen. She had the tumor removed, and they got it all, but she’s Stage Four. Her bone marrow is still overwhelmingly cancerous. She just made it through the first step.”
Her face fell. “Oh. I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t understand.”
I offered her a smile. “Don’t worry. Not many people do, and I hope you never have to. She’s fighting.”
Her lips pressed together in a flat line before she nodded her head. “Of course.” She opened the door to the conference room, and I squeezed her hand as I passed, reassuring her that she hadn’t said anything worthy of embarrassment.
“Ah, Ms. MacKenzie, I’m so glad you could make it,” Principal Halsen said from the head of the table. His tie was as straight as his face.
Apparently we were all business today.
“Ms. May.” I smiled at Maisie and Colt’s teacher. She was in her late twenties, and Colt had only the best things to say about her. A pang of guilt smacked me square in the chest at how absent I’d been from school activities this year.
Yeah, I definitely wasn’t winning PTA Mom of the Year over here. Not even Okayest Mom. I was pretty much the Nonexistent Mom.
“And this is Mr. Jonas, who is our district superintendent and will be
joining us today.” Principal Halsen motioned toward the older gentleman at his left. The man nodded at me with pursed lips that morphed into a forced smile.
“Mr. Jonas.”
I took the seat at the end of the conference table, leaving two empty seats between me and what felt like the army that had gathered against me, or rather Maisie. The loud sound of the binder’s zipper opening was almost obscene in the silence.
“So, Ms. MacKenzie—” “Ella,” I reminded him.
“Ella,” he agreed with a nod. “We needed to meet today because of Maisie’s attendance record. As you know, she needs to be present for a minimum of nine hundred hours to complete kindergarten. Right now, between her absences and times she’s needed to leave early, or come late, she’s at about seven hundred and ten.”
“Okay?” I flipped through the binder to her school section, where I kept record of her days, hours, and documentation.
“We feel at this point, we need to discuss her options,” Principal Halsen said, pushing his glasses up his nose and opening the manila folder in front of him.
“Options,” I repeated, trying to understand.
“She hasn’t met the legal requirement,” Mr. Jonas said, his voice soft, but his eyes telling me that the issue was cut and dried in his opinion.
“Right.” I flipped to the letter I’d kept in a page protector and took it out of the binder. “I absolutely agree that she hasn’t met the requirement, but the district assured us in this letter dated in November that you wouldn’t hold her to it. That rule is waivable in the regulations by the district due to catastrophic illness, and that’s what you agreed to.”
I slid the letter down the table. Ms. May caught it and passed it along, sending me a sympathetic smile.
“We did. And we’re not here to throw ultimatums at you, Ella,” Principal Halsen assured me. “We’re here to discuss what’s best for Maisie. We made
this agreement without looking at her long-term future.” Because they hadn’t thought she’d make it this long.
“What’s best for Maisie…” I repeated softly. “You mean, like not having Stage Four neuroblastoma? Because I definitely agree—that’s not in her best interest.”
Mr. Jonas cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his wrinkled, folded hands on the table. “We absolutely sympathize, Ms. MacKenzie. What your daughter has been through is tragic.”
And there went my hackles, rising as my spine straightened. “It’s not tragic, Mr. Jonas. She’s not dead.”
“Of course not, my dear. We’re not saying that any of this is fair, but the truth is that Maisie might not be ready for first grade.”
My dear. Like I was a little girl in bloomers asking for a pretty new doll.
To hell with that.
“We’ve done everything you’ve asked. Ms. May has been quite accommodating, and I assure you that she’s ready.”
“She is.” Ms. May nodded.
Principal Halsen sighed, taking off his glasses and cleaning an imaginary spot. “Let’s look at this from a different angle. Can you tell us where she’s at in her treatments? What we can expect in the coming months?”
I flipped back to the sheet where I kept the estimated treatment plan, realizing we’d gotten to a point where I wasn’t sure. We were at a crossroads.
“She just completed a major surgery two weeks ago. She’s healing wonderfully and is ready to come back to school on Monday. Then the week after, we’ll be in for another round of chemo, which as you know means she’s gone a solid school week. We’re hoping her levels will remain stable enough to come back for the end of school, but there’s no telling. Then we’re into summer. I’ll know more when we go in for chemo and I can meet with her oncologist.”
The administrators shared a look that made me feel like I wasn’t on the other side of the table but the other side of the battlefield. I felt that change
come over me—the one that had appeared the moment they’d placed the twins in my arms—like pieces of armor clicking into place as I prepared to defend my child.
“Have you thought about having her repeat kindergarten? If she’s in a better situation to be fully present next school year, then it wouldn’t harm her. We wouldn’t force it, of course, but it’s worth a thought. In fact, a lot of our parents hold back their children at the kindergarten stage for various reasons. Certainly this procedure qualifies—”
I snapped.
“With all due respect, it wasn’t a procedure. It was a twelve-hour, life- threatening surgery in which they removed a tumor the size of a softball from my daughter’s adrenal gland. This isn’t an inconvenience; this is cancer. And no, next year won’t be better. She’s fighting for her life, so excuse me if I don’t share your worries that she may have missed the critical day of kindergarten when you covered the life cycle of the butterfly. Statistically she might not even…” My throat closed, my body rebelling against the words I hadn’t spoken since the day they’d given me her odds. “Next year will not be better.”
“And you don’t wish for her to repeat her kindergarten year.” Principal Halsen wrote down a note in the folder.
“It’s kindergarten. Do you seriously feel like she needs to?” A repeat wouldn’t just be hard for Maisie to swallow, but for Colt as well. They’d be a year apart in school, which would mean that even if—when—she beat the cancer, she’d have to look the consequences in the eye every day.
“She doesn’t,” Ms. May spoke up. “She’s quite bright, and she’ll do just fine in first grade,” she told the administrators.
The two men conferred quietly for a moment before turning back to me. “We’d like to offer you a solution. Transfer her to an at-home program. Kindergarten isn’t as academically challenging as first grade, and next year, she’ll need the flexibility.”
“Pull her out of school.”
“School her at home,” Mr. Jonas corrected. “We’re not against you, Ms.
MacKenzie, or Maisie. We’re genuinely trying to figure out the best solution. She’s not in school for the required hours, and next year her workload will increase exponentially. Couple that with the liability of having her here with her weakened immune system, the worry placed on the staff, and the other children, and we all might be more comfortable— including Maisie. She could keep the best schedule for her health if she were schooled at home.”
Other cancer moms did that. I’d spoken with a few of them, but it always seemed like they pulled them out as a last resort…when they were dying. It wasn’t so much the physical act of removing her from the school as it was the emotional acknowledgment that she couldn’t go.
And that was equally devastating to us all—Maisie, Colt, and especially me.
But it would relieve stress on her, on her levels, on the days she couldn’t get out of bed. On the mornings she spent lurched over the toilet, crying, only to look at me and swear she could make it.
“What would it entail?”
“I could teach her,” Ms. May offered. “I’d come by in the afternoons whenever she felt well enough. She’d stay on track, she’d be exempt from district hour requirements, and we’d be able to personally tailor the program.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Of course,” Mr. Jonas said, passing back the letter from early in her diagnosis.
We adjourned the meeting, and Ms. May walked out with me. I felt numb, or maybe it was simply that I’d been hit so hard and so often in the last six months that I no longer registered pain.
“Colt is just heading to lunch if you’d like to see him,” she offered. Colt. He was exactly what I needed right now.
“I’d very much like that,” I told her.
She reached for my hand and squeezed it lightly. “He’s a phenomenal kid.
He is kind, and compassionate, and defensive of the smaller kids.”
My smile was instant. “I lucked out with that guy.”
“No. He’s phenomenal because he has an exceptional mother. Please don’t forget that in the midst of everything. You’re a great mom, Ella.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t a rebuttal of that statement, so I simply gave her hand a squeeze back.
Then I stood with a dozen other moms who were lined up outside the cafeteria, all waiting for their kids. Most were the normal PTA moms, the ones who had impeccable minivans, color-coded day planners, and stylish but sensible fashion. Some I knew, some I didn’t.
I glanced down at my Vans, worn jeans, and long-sleeved tee and felt distinctly unkempt. I’d never truly grasped the phrase “let yourself go” until this moment. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d cut my hair or applied anything beyond under-eye concealer and mascara. While none of this was important in the grand scheme of saving Maisie, right now, the difference between me and these women felt as stark as if they were in ball gowns.
“Oh, Ella! It’s so nice to see you!” Maggie Cooper exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart and showing off a diamond larger than her knuckle. A year older than Ryan, she had married one of the corporate guys from the ski village. I’d half-expected their engagement announcement to read, “Local girl makes good.”
“You, too, Maggie. How is…” I stumbled, trying to remember her kid’s name. The one who’d colored on Maisie’s backpack with permanent marker and thought it was funny to force kisses on her. Doug? Deacon? “Drake?” There, I’d remembered.
“He’s great! Really excelling at piano and looking forward to soccer starting next week. If Colt’s interested, he should join too. Oh, and I wanted to ask—have you considered holistic treatments for Maisie? I was reading a blog about eating cassava root and it sounded intriguing. I can definitely send you the link.”
Yeeeeeah. Thank God I’d gotten good at plastering a smile on my face
and nodding. “Sure, Maggie. That would be great.” I’d learned over the last six months that the easiest way to deal with the well-meaning advice-givers was just to say thank you and noncommittally agree to read whatever research they’d found about snake venom or whatever.
Lucky for me, the class rounded the corner, carrying lunch boxes or lunch cards.
“Great! And I found a bunch on organics! They’re supposed to be great for kids with leukemia and everything.”
“Neuroblastoma,” I said over the kids’ heads as they came between us in the hall. “She has neuroblastoma.”
“Oh, right. I get confused with all those cancers.” She waved it off like there was no difference.
“Oh my God. Who is that?” the mom next to her asked, looking pointedly down the hall.
I turned to see Colt walking just behind the class with a million-watt grin and Havoc in between him and Beckett.
Beckett, who was sporting cargo pants like he wore to work, and a navy- blue Telluride Mountain Rescue T-shirt that stretched perfectly across his chest and around the swells of his biceps.
“I have no clue, but sign me up,” Maggie said, her eyes locked on Beckett as her son found her.
Beckett nodded at something Colt said and took off his baseball hat, placing it backward on Colt’s head. Ugh, my stupid freaking heart flipped right over and got that teenage, glowy feeling that I most definitely didn’t have time for.
“Seriously.” The other mom sighed. “Fresh blood?” “Seasonal. Has to be,” Maggie answered.
Beckett looked up and immediately saw me, a smile transforming him from gorgeous and broody to just flat sexy. When was the last time I’d even thought about a guy in that way? Jeff? As if acknowledging it gave it life, I felt a low hum in my belly, like my sex drive had just kicked on after almost seven years of lying dormant.
“Mom!” Colt saw me and ran, bypassing the line to jump at me.
I caught him easily, lifting him against my chest. For a split second, I worried that I’d just crossed the big-boy line, but as intuitive as he was, he put his head down and squeezed me tight.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, and I let him down, having gotten my Colt fix.
“I am, too.” Beckett’s voice slid over me like raw sugar, gravelly and sweet at the same time.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Maggie’s jaw drop, and then she disappeared, hopefully to the lunchroom, even though I knew those few words would set the gossip tongues wagging.
“What are you three doing?” I leaned down and rubbed Havoc behind her soft ears. “Hiya, girl.”
“Beckett was here for show-and-tell!” Colt exclaimed.
Oh God, I’d forgotten.
“Oh, buddy. I totally spaced that you needed something to share today. I’m so sorry.” At what point was I going to stop screwing up and get my shit together?
“No, Mom, it’s okay! Beckett told me last week he’d bring Havoc in, so I took it off your kitchen calendar. It was so cool! She chased her toy, and then Beckett hid me in a tree and told her to find me, and she did! Definitely the coolest show-and-tell of the year.”
“I’m so glad!” And I actually was. My guilt slid away for a precious second, and I looked up at Beckett in gratitude. “Thank you,” I said softly.
The slight tilt to his lips wasn’t quite a smile. It was something softer, more intimate, and infinitely more dangerous. “I was happy to do it.”
“I was here for a Maisie meeting and just needed a little Colt fix,” I told him.
His brows lowered. “Everything okay?”
Before I could answer, Maggie was there with freshly applied lip gloss and a flyer, standing so close she was almost between us.
Beckett’s posture stiffened.
“Ooh, Ella,” she said, “before I forget, here’s the information for the soccer team. I know Colt had wanted to play in the spring league, but we all understood with what Maisie’s going through, well, you have a lot on your plate. But just in case you can fit in the time, we’d love to have him.”
“Soccer? Really?” Colt lit up like a Christmas tree, and I wanted to smack Maggie and every other mom on the planet who had the ability to say yes without checking schedules for doctors’ appointments and chemo sessions.
“Colt, we’re really busy—”
Beckett gently cupped my elbow, turning away from Maggie. “Let me help.”
“Beckett…” Letting him help meant depending on him, and letting Colt depend on him, too. And while I knew he had the best of intentions, I was also aware that his soul had the same restless demons Ryan’s had.
“Please.”
I was certainly glad he wasn’t asking me to strip out of my clothes, because between that voice and the plea in his eyes, I was helpless. My head nodded before my brain got the better of it—and me.
“You want to play soccer, Colt?” “Yes!”
“Okay, we’ll make it happen.”
Amid Colt’s celebration, Maggie thrust the flyer in my face and turned her smile on Beckett. “And who might you be? One of Telluride’s finest?”
His eyes lost their warmth, his expression turning distant, almost cold, and unlike any expression I’d seen from him. Was Maggie the exception, or was I?
“No, that’s the sheriff’s department.”
His tone was curt, almost unrecognizable from the way he spoke to me and the kids.
“Private sector, huh?” “Yes.”
One-word answer. Maybe Hailey was right—she’d simply seen
something I hadn’t, because he hadn’t shown it around me.
“Ooh, the special kind of search and rescue,” she said, taking the step that did put her between us. “The ones who get contracted out for the dangerous calls.” Her voice lowered, and I stepped back to avoid asphyxiating on her perfume.
“I guess,” Beckett answered.
“You know that company is actually funded by a conglomerate of the owners of the ski resort and the hotels in the village, right? They wanted something immediately available, knowing how busy the sheriff’s office gets.”
“Is that so?” Beckett stepped back, but Maggie followed. His jaw flexed and the save-me look he shot my way was anything but funny. He really was that uncomfortable.
It was definitely time to intervene.
“She’s right,” I said as Colt took my hand. “Her husband owns one of the hotels, right, Maggie?”
She openly glared at me, but her face turned sweet when she looked back at Beckett, well, appraised was a better word. Openly ogled was another way to say it. “He does, which I guess means, in a way, you work for me.”
His eyes turned glacial. “I’m an independent contractor, which means I work for myself.”
I moved to stand next to Beckett, and he relaxed just enough for the change to be visible. “It’s always good to see you, Maggie, but I think these guys are getting hungry, right?” I asked Beckett.
He nodded. “It’s always nice to meet other parents in Colt and Maisie’s class.”
The words were the right ones, but they were forced, like he’d practiced them in his head before saying them aloud.
Maggie’s shoulders fell, but she quickly recovered. “Of course. I guess I’d better get back to Drake. Are you joining us?”
I looked down at Colt, who was luckily occupied with Havoc. He had to be getting hungry, and we were wasting lunch time out here.
“Actually, I was going to ask my Ella here if she wanted to grab some lunch with me.” The words came out of him just like every other time we’d talked by ourselves. Easy. Natural.
Maggie noticed. Point. Set. Match.
Whether or not it was true, I could have kissed him in gratitude. Not that I was going to kiss him, or touch him in any way that indicated anything more than friendship, if that’s even what we had. What were we, anyway? Guilt-contracted neighbors?
Maggie nodded and spun on her heel, nearly taking me out. Beckett reached around, steadying my shoulder as she passed. Who cared about the truth? Not me!
After today’s meeting and Maggie attack, I felt a sense of rebellion well in my stomach and spread outward. “Colton MacKenzie.”
“Mom?”
“Wanna ditch the rest of the day with me? With us?” I glanced up at Beckett.
“Yes!”
“What do you want to do?” Beckett asked, crouching down.
Colt’s mouth and nose wiggled back and forth as he thought. “I want to picnic with Maisie. If she feels well enough.”
I’d so lucked out getting this kid. “Picnic it is.”
As we walked out to our cars, I brushed Beckett’s arm, stopping him as Colt and Havoc walked ahead a few feet.
“You’re not a big people person, are you?” “That obvious?”
“Absolutely.” But oddly endearing, too, realizing that he was different with me. “I just didn’t see it until now.”
“Yeah, well…I guess I’m just comfortable around you.”
That simple admission felt like the best compliment, and I felt my cheeks warm.
“You realize what you did, right?” I needed him to understand the commitment he’d made, how precious the trust of a child was.
“With lunch?”
“Soccer, Beckett. That’s three practices a week and games on the weekend. That means on the days I’m at the doctor with Maisie—”
“I’m at the field with Colt. I’m not going to let you down, Ella. Or him.”
My teeth sank into my lower lip as I fought the urge to believe him, to trust that he’d be where he said he would be.
“Trust me, please.”
“I know you have the best of intentions, but in my experience, guys… don’t always show up.” I spoke the last bit at the concrete between my feet. To be exact, they lied and said they would, then never did. Maybe their reasons varied, but the end result never did.
He tipped my chin up gently with his finger, and I found the courage bit by bit to meet his gaze.
“I will show up for you. For Colt. For Maisie. I will not walk away. I will not abandon you. I will not die.” His words hit me smack in my heart with the force of a ton of bricks. “I will show up, and if you don’t believe me now, that’s okay. I’ll earn it.”
“I have no right to expect that of you.” We weren’t together, or anything else that would even imply he had any such obligation. I had to trust that his sense of duty to my brother was strong enough to hold him here, and trust wasn’t one of my strong points.
“You have the right because I give it to you.”
We stood like that, locked on each other, his hand beneath my chin, warring silently until I sighed and let my eyes close. “Okay. But don’t let him down.”
“I’m not going to. The sooner you believe that, the sooner I can pick up a little of that burden you’re so hell-bent on carrying solo. Have a little faith in me.”
I sucked in an unsteady breath and tried it out, the faith thing. “Soccer.” He grinned. “Soccer.”
