Page 41 of Forget Me Knot

Just thinking about that spring and the following summer, and the time I spent with my Gram and Gramps, brings a flicker of homesickness to my gut. It was time well spent and basically changed the trajectory of my whole life. It was the first time I’d ever thought of a future outside of baseball.

Maloy comes to my other side, and we stand in a close, but manly triangle, surrounded by my flowers. “You lived a double life for months, putting on the uniform but going to the flower shop instead. Hiding in the closet if your folks ever came in. Workouts in the morning, practice in the afternoons, and then taking off to make bouquets and swoop all the girls out from under our noses.” We all take a nostalgic look around the store. “Man, it drove me crazy. You had everything. The talent. Girls. Your dad…”

He trails off and avoids looking at Nate, choosing instead to stare at his shoes. Their dad abandoned Charlie and her boys before Maloy could even walk. Neither remembers much about Steve Banner, but I know his absence has always weighed heavy on them both.

Nate takes over where Maloy left off, almost as if they rehearsed this intervention ahead of time. “I’ll never forget the moment we all found out your dad knew all along. He’d known and gone along with it. He gave you the space to do what you needed. To figure out what it was you wanted.”

What they never saw was the disappointment in Dad’s eyes when we finally did talk about baseball. How I’d hoped for a scholarship to school but didn’t see myself pursuing it further. That I wanted to run a business of my own some day, not unlike my folks or my grandparents, and baseball didn’t really play a part in that dream.

“We’ve been giving you space for three years, Jack. To figure things out. That baseball hit your skull, and I swore if you woke up, I wouldn’t care if you ever touched a baseball again as long as I got my friend back.” Nate's eyes fill with tears and his grip on me tightens. “You woke up, but you didn’t ever come back. Not really.”

“We’re not saying things aren’t different. The good Lord knows nothing will probably ever be the same. But you survived, Jack.” Maloy’s voice grows more serious than it’s ever been. “Now you’ve gotta decide what to do with the new life you’ve been given, but I hope you won’t continue living a double life and keeping us in the dark. Not when all we want is to be on your team.”

We’re all sniffling and avoiding eye contact whenCatmeows loudly from wherever he’s been hiding during our heart to heart and pounces onto Maloy’s leg.

“What in the—” Maloy screeches at an unnatural octave, shaking his leg and only encouragingCat’s claws to dig in deeper. “Is that a cat?!”

“He’s Jackson’s,” I mutter, pinching the tears from my eyes and trying to decide whether I should attempt a rescue or not. “And Dinah’s, I suppose. They got him together.”

“Is it rabid?” He pullsCatoff and nearly throws him at me. Surprisingly, the gray furball curls into my arms and seems to settle, gently pawing at my chest like he’s making a nest, and then attempts to climb up my neck, nuzzling his nose against my skin.

Nate chuckles and slaps me on the back. “Whew, buddy. That girl has got your number.”

“The cat isn’t staying,” I announce, though there’s no conviction in my voice.Catgives me an annoyed mew, like he’s sayin’,“Come on, man, I thought we were past this.”

“Sure.” The music next door changes, and suddenly Miley Cyrus and Dinah are both singing about how they can buy themselves flowers. Maloy poorly covers his grin.

“Don’t,” I grumble, pettingCat’ssoft fur and telling myself it’s only to keep him content.

Maloy lets his head fall back and laughs over the music. “It’s about time some girl isn’t romanced by your dang flower shop.”

Peewee.

Something’s up with Dinah.

Chipper clawed my chair!

It’s been three days since my family lunch failure and the pep talk from Maloy and Nate. I thought long and hard about what they said, stewing over it after I delivered the apology flowers to Dinah’s hallway door, hoping she’d find them on her way upstairs that night. Though if Jackson’s Post-it notes from the past two days are any indication, the flowers may not have gone over well. All his notes seem to have the same panic written across each as I pass through the loft.

Call Owen.

Apologize.

Cat training camp.

Dr. appt next week.

I decided when I woke up this morning toCatcuddled and purring on my chest that Jackson may not have been so wrong about a feline friend after all. He is surprisingly comforting in aroommate that isn’t fully litter-box trainedsort of way. Mostly, the idea of even admitting to Dinah that I returned this little guy to the shelter was enough to stop me. All I had to do was imaginethe resounding disappointment that would fill her eyes, and I knew I couldn’t go through with it.

He chases my steps around the apartment as I pick up more Post-its and go through my morning routine. But today, instead of waiting on Owen to make his morning call, I take Jackson’s advice and call my brother first.

“Bro, what’s up?” Owen answers, and grunts once.

“Um… hey.” I suddenly feel a little insecure. Initiating contact is new for me.

“Oh, Jack? Sorry. Hey, man.” He clears his throat. “What’s up? Are you okay? Have a migraine starting?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just…” I don’t know why this feels so hard. I talk to Owen every day, but as I stand in my empty kitchen, holding a kitten in my arms like he’s a comfort blanket I desperately need, that conversation with the Banner boys chimes in my head.

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