Page 9 of Game Changer
Tyler races back to us, breathless and flushed. "Did you see how fast I went? I was like WHOOSH!"
I laugh, ruffling his hair. "I saw. Very impressive."
"Can we get ice cream?" he asks, looking between us hopefully.
Mia checks her watch. "It's not even noon," she says.
"Please?" Tyler draws out the word, clasping his hands. "Dad's here. It's special."
She melts at his reasoning, just as I do. "Okay, ice cream it is."
As we walk toward the ice cream stand, Tyler between us, he reaches up and takes my hand without hesitation. His small fingers wrap around mine with complete trust.
For the first time since my injury, since my world collapsed, I have a purpose again. Not catching footballs or making touchdowns, but something infinitely more important.
Being a father.
I've never played a more important game, never had more at stake. And for once, I'm grateful for clear eyes and a full heart to face the challenge.
Chapter 4 - Mia
I watch Tyler skip ahead of us toward the ice cream stand, his energy seemingly boundless. Behind him walks David, still favoring his injured knee but moving with more purpose than he had yesterday.
The transformation is striking. Clean-shaven, dressed in actual clothes instead of sweats, his eyes clear and focused on Tyler instead of staring into middle distance.
But I know better than to trust a single good day.
"Chocolate with sprinkles!" Tyler announces when we reach the stand, bouncing on his toes. "Please," he adds, remembering his manners when I give him the look.
"What about you?" David asks me, pulling out his wallet.
"Nothing for me," I say. Ice cream is a luxury I rarely indulge in these days.
"Come on," he says, with a flash of the charm that once made my heart race. "My treat."
"Strawberry," I relent, ignoring the voice in my head that warns against accepting anything from him. This isn't about us. It's about Tyler having a normal day with both his parents.
David orders and pays: one chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles, one strawberry cone, and one vanilla in a cup for himself. We find a bench nearby, Tyler perched between us, already making a mess as chocolate drips down his fingers.
"So, you live in San Diego?" David asks, eating his ice cream in a way that suggests he's working hard to appear normal.
"Yeah, for about four years now. We have a small apartment near the beach. Nothing fancy, but Tyler can hear the waves at night."
"That sounds nice," he says, a wistful note in his voice. "I've never lived near the ocean."
"It's the best!" Tyler chimes in. "Sometimes we see dolphins! And once there was a seal on our beach and Mom said we couldn't pet it even though it looked super friendly."
"Wild animals need their space," I remind him, wiping chocolate from his chin. "Just like people."
David watches our interaction with hunger in his eyes, a man starving for the everyday moments he's missed. It tugs at something deep inside me, a place I've kept guarded since he left all those years ago.
"What do you do in San Diego?" he asks. "For work, I mean."
"I'm a legal secretary at a small firm," I say. "The hours are decent, and they're pretty understanding when Tyler gets sick or has school events."
What I don't add is how tight money always is, how I'm constantly one emergency away from disaster, as evidenced by my car breaking down. Or how I've put my own dreams of going to law school on permanent hold to make sure Tyler has everything he needs.
"And you like it there?"
