Page 20 of Everlasting Love

She takes them and closes them in her fist, raising them to her chest and pressing them against her heart. The relief that they’re back in her hands and out of mine feels like an elephant just climbed off my chest. “How about you? When are you going to get the help you need?” I release my hold on her and put space between us.

“Don’t start. I’m doing just fine.” And I am. I’m better than I was.

“No, you’re not. You’re still only going through the motions.” She grips my forearm, pulling me to a stop. “It wasn’t your fault, Shane.”

I don’t want to go through this shit again. I fucking know I didn’t blow us up. But he died lying not far from my unconscious ass. If I’d listened to my gut. If I hadn’t been knocked out, I may have been able to get help. He may have fucking survived. Hehad a fucking wife and son who loved and adored him, I had no one—it should have been me!

I pull my arm away like she’s burned me and make my way toward the kids on the team, leaving her standing in place. I know she’s trying to help, but it’s not as if she has her shit together; she needs to concentrate on herself and her son and forget about me.

Clapping my hands loudly, I gain the kids’ attention. “Coach Mathers can’t make it today, so you’re stuck with me. Let’s get ready to do our drills.” The kids cheer loudly, running toward the cones I’ve already set up. I guide them through some basic stretches before demonstrating what they need to do. “Okay, I want you to jog slowly to the cone at the other end and then back again. Make a line behind each cone. Let’s get started.”

The kids run in pairs up and back then repeat the process running backward. Evan smiles the entire time throughout the warm-up drills. We switch it up and do some practice passes before playing five-on-five on half the pitch. Evan’s speed has improved considerably since last week’s practice, and he’s managing to keep the ball close to his feet, making it difficult for his opponent to take possession of the ball. “Good one, Evan. Keep it up!” I call out, glancing around to see if his mom’s watching. She’s holding her hands above her head, applauding her son’s achievement.

When practice is finished, I walk Evan over to Hope. “You guys have done well with your training. Keep it up and you’ll be the fastest member of your team to run the wing.” I ruffle Evan’s sweaty hair.

“Thanks, Shane. I did my best.” He looks up at his mom. “I’m hungry. Can we get burgers, please?”

Hope bends down to collect Evan’s sports bag. “Sure thing. I think you’ve earned it, big guy.”

“Yay. Shane, you’ll come. Won’t you?” Evan turns his excited eyes to me, and I glance up to check if it will be okay if I tag along. If I go, it means I can pay for their meal and Hope can save her money. I know it’s not much but I like to help wherever I can.

She nods slightly and I turn my attention to Evan. “Thanks for the invitation. I could eat a burger.” I pat my flat stomach.

We climb into our cars, and I follow them to Pier 7 andDeclan’s Diner. The diner’s been here since the pier was built, and it hasn’t lost any of its original vibe. Sure, it’s been updated over the years, but the owners have always been careful to stay true to its origins, maintaining its authenticity. The three of us step inside, and even though it’s Monday night, it’s still packed—just like it always is. The noise of the grills sizzling, people placing their orders, and numbers being called fills my ears. I scan the diner, noting the patrons, their positions, those lingering by the jukebox, and those waiting to order. Nothing seems amiss.

“I’ll order if you guys find us a seat.” I gesture toward the far back corner where I’ll have a clear line of sight to the door, then line up to place our usual order. While I wait for our number to be called, I continue to scan the diner and pier outside the large glass windows. Everyone’s caught up in their discussions without a care in the world, and nobody’s watching what’s going on around them. I wish I was still oblivious to the darker side of people and didn’t feel the need to be on high alert all the time. It’s fucking exhausting.

When my number’s called, I grab our order and take it to Hope and Evan, placing the correct items in front of the pair, then I take a seat, adjusting it to make sure I can see the room clearly. Evan practically tears the paper off his burger and shoves it into his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, Ev. Slow down. You’ll choke on your food,” Hope scolds, wrinkles forming across her forehead.

“Sorry, Mom. I’m really hungry.”

We eat quietly for a few moments, and Evan must have satisfied his initial hunger enough to take a breath. “I’ve been practicing my marching. Mom says I’m looking good.”

I chuckle lightly. “That’s good, big guy, but did you do your homework? Between soccer and marching practice, it doesn’t sound like you have much time left.”

“I did my homework, didn’t I, Mom?” He turns to Hope.

She swallows the fry she’s chewing. “You did.” She turns her head in my direction. “He made himself a timetable so he could allocate enough time to the tasks he wants to achieve.” Her eyes are full of pride as she shares her son’s approach to time management, and the muscle in my chest clenches. Not only does he look like a miniature version of his father, but he also has his father’s approach to organization. I catch Hope’s eyes and note the glassiness in them.

“Mom, can I have a quarter for the jukebox?”

I dig into my pocket and give him a couple of quarters. “Here. Knock yourself out, big guy.”

Hope and I watch him at the jukebox, making his selections. She turns her attention back to me. “So … uh … Jasmine’s a cutie pie.”

I keep my eyes on Evan to ensure he’s safe. “Yeah, she’s a cute kid.”

“Her mom’s attractive.” My eyes snap to hers, noting the question there before dropping back to Evan. “Anything going on there?”

I swallow. “Nope.” My heart thumps heavily behind my ribs, and blood rushes into my ears at the thought of something happening between me and the gorgeous bombshell.

“Why not?”

Without taking my eyes off Evan, I answer with gritted teeth. “You know why.”

“Wyatt died. You didn’t.” I hear the heaviness in her voice, the utter pain buried inside those words, and I turn my head to study her closely. Her delicate features are drawn tight, and her shoulders are bunched up around her ears. Her thin arms are crossed over her body as if they can somehow shield her from the pain that oozes from inside.

---