Page 54 of The Parent Playbook
The room is dim except for the glow from the TV, painting everything in soft, shifting light. It feels like we’re in our own little bubble, which is weirdly comfortable, even with the kids snoring away next to us. Scotty shifts closer still, and I don’t know if I can stand this anymore. I turn to him, his eyes looking deeply into mine, a shining almost-sadness in them as his breath caresses my cheek with one word.
“Angel.”
CHAPTER 22
SCOTTY
“Angel,” I say, almost without meaning to.
Her name comes out as a whisper, as gentle as the flickering light from the TV screen casting shadows around us.
I’m staring at her, caught up in the feel of this moment—she’s close enough that I can smell her shampoo, the heat of her body an inch from my own skin. It’s like my heart’s trying to beat its way out of my chest, and part of me—a big part—wants nothing more than to lean in, close that last little distance, and see if her lips are as soft as they look. But there’s a weight in my chest that reminds me of the plans I’ve made, the reasons we’re here in Maple Falls in the first place. It’s supposed to be a test, a temporary stop over that could have turned into something more, but only if it worked for Lily.
The kids, sprawled and snoring on the floor, are a picture of innocence and trust. They could be siblings, family. It tugs at something deep inside me, this scene of domestic bliss we’ve stumbled into—it’s everything I ever wanted without knowing I was allowed to want it again.
But Colorado is waiting. Lily’s life, her friends, the grave we visit more often than I admit—it’s all back there, not here inMaple Falls, no matter how much this place feels like it could be home.
My hand moves almost of its own accord, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair back from Angel’s face. Her eyes flutter shut at the touch, and it’s overwhelming, seeing her so real, so close.
“I feel it too, Angel,” I find myself saying, my voice thick with an emotion I can’t fully let myself feel. “There’s something special here, I know. But I can’t—we can’t—” I stop, struggling for the right words, the fair words. “I’ve got to think about Lily. We’re going back after the tournament ends. It wouldn’t be right to start something, not now, not like this.”
Her eyes open slowly, and in them I see the same sadness that I feel. It’s not only about what’s happening between us—it’s about what could happen, and whatwon’thappen because I’m too afraid of messing up what little stability Lily has left.
The movie drones on in the background, a backdrop to the real drama on this couch. And as much as I want to stay, to lean closer, to forget everything but the feel of her by my side, I pull back, just a little, just enough.
“I respect you too much to lead you on. This is all I can give right now.”
I sit back, putting space between us, and I can’t help wondering if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life by letting her go.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say because every part of me screams to say the opposite. But Lily’s future, her well-being, has to come first. It always has to come first.
Angel pulls back slightly, her laugh a bit too sharp, a clear shield going up as she tries to mask what I know she’s feeling.
“Well, sure. It was that … I thought you were setting up shop here for good,” she says, her voice steady but her eyes telling a different story. “Maple Falls can grow on you. You know our town slogan, right? Maple Falls, you’ll never want toleave. Likeleaf.Get it? Ugh.” She quietly laughs to herself. “It’s practically one of your own dad jokes.”
My chest tightens at her words, at the raw honesty peeking through her typically iron-clad facade. It hits me then—she’s not only this tough, unflappable woman I’ve come to admire. She’s also incredibly vulnerable, standing on the edge of something she wants but doesn’t think she can have.
“You’re amazing, Angel,” I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can think better of them. “There’s no other woman like you, really. I want us to be friends. Good friends, for as long as I’m here.” I pause, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “I’ve opened up to you more than I have in years, and never like this. Not since I lost Corrie.”
The confession hangs between us, heavy and filled with a thousand unspoken words.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I want to make a joke. Something to lighten the moment, go back to how we were.
Another part of me knows that I have to sit with this for a while.
Without a word, Angel leans forward and wraps her arms around me. The hug is tight, filled with silent strength and a wholeness that I can’t put words on. I hug her back, the feeling of her body against mine grounding and comforting. Like she’s the one person I could always count on, though this is all new.
We sit there, in the dim light of the suite, holding each other as scenes of far-away oceans roll by.
I wish this moment could stretch on. Forget all the rest of it for a while and just enjoy beingwith her. If all I can have in her is a friend, I’ll take it.
The rink’s empty and echoing as Andy and I wrap up our early morning session. The kids slept like logs last night until wewoke them at the end of the movie. Which is probably why he’s got so much spark this morning.
I, on the other hand, barely got a wink. I know what we’ve got to do, but that doesn’t make doing it any easier.
“My last wrister wasn’t bad. Right, Scotty?”
This kid—he’s got a spark, a real drive, and it reminds me a little of myself at his age. It’s been good having him around.
