Page 121 of When You Had Me Adapting

I nod. He pops out the photo of Colt and replaces it with ours. “Much better,” he says, closing the locket and placing it back around my neck. My mom’s voice echoes through the house, calling for us.

“We better get back down there. Lunch was almost ready and I’d like to do something before I bring you home.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, pixie. Come on.”

We walk down the stairs hand in hand. As we round the corner, we find my family sitting at the perfectly set table, waiting for us to join them.

“Well, it’s about time,” my mom says.

“Sorry,” I say, sitting in one of the chairs. Jace sits next to me.

“Honey, will you say grace?” She looks over at my dad, who nods and then begins to recite the same prayer he’s said before every meal my entire life. Once he’s finished, my mom begins to pass around the plated food. I place a piece of grilled chicken on my plate and then pass the plate to Jace.

“How’s work going, Lace?” my brother asks.

“It’s good. Margaret, my boss, can be a little much sometimes, but I really like it. Actually, Poppy started last week, so that’s been fun.”

“That’s great. I played golf with her father the other day,” my dad adds. “He was telling me she was starting soon.”

I put a scoop of salad onto my plate. “We’re really excited to get to work together.”

My mom hums over a bite of chicken but doesn’t look up from her plate.

“How’s Austin?” Jace asks, looking at my brother.

“It’s good. I’ve been up in Massachusetts playing summer ball.”

“Colton’s the ace pitcher,” my mom beams.

“That’s cool. I thought you played for UT,” Jace says.

“Oh, I do. This is for the Cape Cod Summer League. Gives scouts a chance to come see what we can do.”

“I see. You think you’re going to get drafted?” Jace asks, cutting into his chicken.

“We’ll see. I’m hopeful.”

“It’ll happen, Son,” my dad encourages.

“So, how’d you manage to get a weekend off?” Jace asks.

“This damn blister has made me miss two starts now.” Colt lifts his left hand and looks at his middle finger. “I got approval from my coach to come home while it heals.”

“A blister?” I ask.

“It’s a very serious injury for pitchers,” my mom says. I can’t help but laugh. Before my IUD, I was expected to act like nothing was wrong while my uterus tried to kill me every month. Colt gets one tiny blister and has to come home to heal.

“She’s right, Lace,” my brother says. “I put a lot of pressure on this finger when I pitch and risk a lot of pain and infection if I were to play.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re home.”

The rest of the conversation continues to center around Colt and baseball. I stay mostly quiet, preoccupied with the necklace around my neck and thoughts of what the last decade may have looked like if I had known it was from Jace.

A knot forms in my stomach at the thought that nothing would have been different because eighteen-year-old me would’ve probably read the letter and decided not to go. Too dramatic and too immature to even consider having a conversation.

“You okay?” Jace leans over and whispers in my ear.

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