Page 3 of Just a Heartbeat Away

It was taped to his fridge. There was a fingerprint of tomato sauce in one corner, scribbled notes to himself all over it, words crossed out and added. It had been a lifeline for him. Guided him more than he ever would have expected.

It was a little cure-all. He wasn’t sure what kinds of things Matty should do after school? The checklist knew.

Playdates (arrange with other parents at school)

Children’s museum (if he likes it, invest in a membership)

The library (Matty can even get his own library card!)

No more than half an hour of TV each day (anything on Netflix Kids acceptable)

And on and on. It was a single sheet of paper, but, to Sebastian, it was a roadmap that he never planned on deviating from.

Also taped on the fridge? The number for a grief counselor he’d seen for the first time last week. Sebastian’s skin had shrunk two full sizes while he’d sat in the pastel waiting room. If he’d learned one thing from his meeting with Miss DeRosa, it was that he had no desire to be blindsided by another grown-up again. So, he’d rehearsed what he was going to say to Dr. Feldman. Rehearsed it. Like a play.

Feldman had seen through it in about four seconds and Sebastian had left the office with four inches of pamphlets, permission to hire the occasional babysitter, and the distinct feeling that Sebastian Dorner was currently trapped inside someone else’s life.

Matty appeared back in the kitchen in jeans and a Captain America zip-up.

“Mittens can’t be a nonnegotiable,” Sebastian told his son. He chuckled at the immediate outrage that bloomed over Matty’s face. That was new. The chuckling. It was too new to feel good yet. “But how about this? No mittens if it’s more than forty degrees outside. That’s reasonable.”

“What’s the temperature right now?” Matty asked suspiciously.

“Check for yourself.” Sebastian nodded his head toward the window thermometer they kept. He knew Matty could read it. Kid was smart as a whip. “Hey, is Miss DeRosa still checking your lunch?”

“Sometimes. It’s forty-two degrees!” Matty pumped one triumphant fist in the air and had his dad chuckling again.

“All right. Make sure she checks it today.”

Sebastian scrawled a few words onto a torn piece of paper and tucked it against Matty’s juice box.

That night, when Sebastian’s shirt was wet across the chest from Matty’s bath and his son was soundly snoozing in his room, Sebastian unpacked the lunchbox. He found the same crumpled piece of paper he’d sent that morning.

There was his own cramped chicken scratch writing:How am I doing?

And then there was a drawing that she’d done, this Miss DeRosa. It was of a stick figure hitting a ball out of a baseball park. The stick figure was labeledyouand the ball was labeledlife.

Sebastian’s face pulled into a surprised laugh.

He was knocking life out of the park. Well. Imagine that.

Without thinking too much on it, he went ahead and taped that up on the fridge, too.

CHAPTER TWO

Two years later

SEBASTIANCOULDNOTbelieve he was scrolling through a dating app. What the hell was his life? He tossed the phone to the side and tipped his head back on one armrest of his new couch.

“Come on, you can’t give up that easily,” Tyler said as he sauntered back into the room. He handed Sebastian a beer and tossed his feet up on the coffee table as he plunked into the recliner.

Sebastian recalled the horrifying last hour of his life. Choosing a profile picture. Distilling his life into a handful of words and a—sweet Jesus—smattering of emojis.

You call that easy?

Tyler and Sebastian had met in kindergarten and hadn’t questioned a good thing. They still didn’t. They disagreed more often than they agreed, but they’d drink poison for each other if it came to it. Hell, Tyler had even moved back to Brooklyn after Cora had died. He’d claimed that he was just done with LA, but Sebastian knew that his friend had come home for him and Matty.

That was the majority of the reason Sebastian had even downloaded the damn dating app in the first place. Tyler hadinsistedit was a good idea.

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