Page 18 of The Art Of Starting Over

“Girls don’t want to play?”

“I don’t think they’re invited. They sit on the bleachers and cheer. Some even have those hand things they shake.”

“Pom-poms?”

“Yeah, those things. One girl did some leg thing and had her arms doing funny things. The guys seemed to like it.”

“That’s called cheer or cheerleading,” Hayden said as he made his way down Main Street. “It’s actually a popular sport for kids your age and through high school. Some go on to college and cheer for college teams.”

“You mean girls?”

“No,” Hayden said as he turned onto his parents’ street. “Boys can join if they want. Cheerleading is serious business, especially in high school and college. They’re responsible for hyping up the crowd.”

“Oh, like the announcer at the basketball games?”

Hayden pulled into his parents’ driveway and put his beastly truck into park. “Exactly.” He turned the truck off and got out, meeting Conor around the front. He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and guided him to the back door.

“Did you start on the house today?” Conor asked as they climbed the back steps.

“No, it rained most of the day. I might head over now, though, and place the flags down, so the contractor knows where we want the foundation.”

“Don’t forget the pool,” Conor said as he went into the house.

“Yeah, yeah.” His other grandparents had an indoor pool at their house in Wyoming, and one of the things Hayden said he would consider when building their new house was a pool. As soon as he had said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to do. He’d used it as a crutch or some sort of enticement to get Conor on the same page when it came to moving.

Staying in Wyoming wasn’t an option, even though he’d had a good relationship with his in-laws. As much as Hayden needed Conor to be okay, Hayden needed his parents. There was a certain level of emotional support only a parent could give. Sofia’s parents would visit, and once Conor settled in Oyster Bay, he’d go back to Wyoming for breaks. Hayden had no intentions of keeping them away from each other.

Hayden walked in after his son and kicked his shoes off onto the wet mat by the door. As he did, he inhaled deeply, and his stomach growled. He smelled marinara, freshly baked bread, and cake. He wasn’t sure what type of cake, but he knew they were having cake for dessert.

Darcy was in the kitchen, standing at the island; Conor was across from her, perched on one of the barstools. Hayden kissed her cheekand dipped his finger into the bowl of frosting on the countertop. Homemade chocolate frosting was his favorite. Everything homemade was his favorite. She slapped his hand.

“Knock it off.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Neither can I,” Conor said as he reached across the counter and dipped his finger into the bowl as well.

“That’s it, no dessert for either of you.”

Hayden placed his hand over his heart and pretended to cry. Conor did the same and started wailing. Darcy wasn’t buying their act. She did, however, give them two spoons and told them to have at it because she needed to make a fresh batch.

“Only a couple spoonfuls,” Hayden told Conor. “You don’t want to spoil your dinner.”

“Heed your own advice,” Darcy said from the pantry. When she returned, she had a container of powdered sugar, but no chocolate.

“Aren’t you making more chocolate?” Hayden asked.

“I am not,” she told him as she pushed the other bowl toward him. “You couldn’t keep your grubby mitts off my frosting—you’re not getting any more.”

Hayden stood there, stunned. Conor giggled. He looked at his son and failed to keep a straight face when he saw frosting smeared on Conor’s cheeks. Hayden shook his head and pulled a sheet of paper towel off the roll, wetted it, and handed it to his son.

“Conor, how was school?” Darcy asked as she put the other batch of frosting contents into her mixer. “Did you make any new friends?”

“Some,” he said. “There’s another new kid in my class.”

“Maren Campbell?” Darcy asked.

Hayden assumed Maren was Devorah’s daughter, but he couldn’t be sure, even though Chad’s last name was Campbell. He hadn’t gotten around to asking about her daughter earlier.

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