Page 10 of The Shots You Take

“We had a gathering here last night, so now we’ve got containers we need to wash and return to people,” Lindsay said as she took Adam’s coat and found a place for it in the closet. “I know people aren’t in a hurry to get them back, but I need something to do. Seems like you might too.”

“Yeah,” Adam said gratefully. “I do.” His chest felt tight as he gazed around the front hallway of the house he’d enjoyed spending summers in nearly two decades ago. It looked the same: soft yellow walls decorated with framed family photos and watercolor paintings of boats, worn wooden floors, and an old barrel serving as a table for keys and sunglasses just inside the door.

Lindsay led him to the kitchen. “My husband, Josh, took our girls to the park, since it finally stopped raining.”

“How old?” Adam asked.

“Josh? He’s thirty-eight.”

Adam snorted.

“Sorry,” Lindsay said. “That was a tribute to Dad. The kids are eight and six. Katie is the oldest, and then Allison.”

“Fun ages.”

“Sometimes.” She opened a drawer and pulled a dish towel from it. She handed it to him and asked, “How old are yours now?”

“Lucy is sixteen, and Cole is fifteen.”

“Holy. I forgot how young you were when they were born.”

“Yeah, well. Maggie and I kind of put the cart before the horse there.”

Lindsay smiled, but it looked sad. Adam wondered what she was thinking. How much did she know?

“How is Maggie?” she asked.

“Good. Great.” He folded the towel in half, and then again. “We’re, um. We’re divorced now.”

Lindsay’s brow furrowed. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“We’re still good friends,” he said quickly, “but we’re not together anymore. She’s with someone else now.” He realized how that sounded and added, “Not that she left me for him or anything like that. There were…other reasons. But nothing she did. She’s wonderful.”

“That’s good,” Lindsay said, though she sounded like she wanted to ask a million questions. Instead, she went to the sink and began to fill it with hot water. The sink was full, and she’d started scrubbing the first plastic container before she asked, “So you’re single now?”

“I am.”

She didn’t say anything as she finished washing the container, then handed it to Adam. Finally, she said, “It’s been a while since Riley’s seen you, hasn’t it?”

Twelve fucking years.

“We sort of drifted apart, I guess.” It was both accurate and the total opposite of what had happened between them. Driftingapart sounded gentle. Adam had felt more like he’d been ripped in half. Or that he’d ripped himself in half.

“But you came anyway.”

“I did.” Why were these containers so impossible to dry? Water seemed to gather and stick to every part of them.

“When are you leaving?”

“Not sure yet.”

Lindsay handed him the lid to the container. “Riley’s going to take this the hardest. Losing Dad, I mean. We’re all devastated and shocked, but Riley… I’m going to worry about him the most.”

Adam swallowed, then nodded. Of course Riley would take it the hardest.

“He’s worked hard,” she continued, “since he retired from hockey. He was in rough shape when he first moved back here. I know you weren’t really in his life anymore by then.”

“I wanted to be,” Adam blurted. “I tried to be.”

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