Page 145 of False Start

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“You know, Coach…I’m a pretty happy woman. I made peace with the fact that these legs are never going to work again. And until recently, I could even say I didn’t miss them for anything, but you know what I miss them for now?”

I leaned against the wall and stared out at the gray city, nothing special standing out, just a spattering of nondescript buildings with no connections—no memories. A stark contrast to the lively personality on the other end of the line. “Nope, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me. Just do me a favor and skip any sex parts.”

“No sex parts unless you count me shoving my foot up your ass as sexy.”

I closed my eyes and turned away only to have my eyes go right to Abel’s urn. “How is she?” I asked, my voice thick as I swallowed hard.

“You’re an idiot.”

“No doubt.”

“She’s—well, how the hell do you think she is, huh? The damn powers that be over at Crossroads paraded them around like hometown heroes; that was cute. A bit nauseating. But I get how these things go. Look, she’s doing all the right things. She’s slapping on a smile. She’s showing up at work; she even managed to get up there to see your nephew, but she’s dying inside, man.”

“I’m working it out—I just, wait, what?” My skin tingled as restless energy skittered through me, making me pace. “She saw him?”

“So that perked your little ears up, did it? Good. Yeah, she saw him. She brought him a present and everything. She’s up here living life…a life you could be living with her if you’d stop getting in your own damn way. You’re two left skates, man, and it’s embarrassing.”

“Is she mad?” God, those words made me sound like a fucking coward. Like I didn’t dare face her down that way when really, it was one of my favorite ways to face her.

And I kind of hoped she was, because if she wasn’t—

“No, you bonehead. She’s hurt. I would kill for mad right now. Look, Zach’s here and I have to go, but I’m going to give you a little tip you gave me once out on that track. Never forget what you’re fighting for.”

She hung up before I had the chance to say goodbye, my words coming back to bite me in the ass.

Was I going to keep fighting my past or fight for my present?

My phone chimed again. A fucking Facebook notification of all things, something I’d become helpless to ignore since my nephew was born, especially now that this was the only way I could get a glimpse of him.

I swiped the screen and dropped onto my couch, only to have a frozen image of Mayhem, trademark red bandana in her hair, her eyes glassy like she’d been crying, smiling down at my nephew.

My chest constricted, my head swimming with lightheadedness.

I wasn’t ready to see her like this.

Holding a baby. Holding him.

When I couldn’t.

Or wouldn’t…because it was time to be honest.

The play icon in the middle of the frame mocked me. Dared me to tap it.

The urge to save myself came, filling me with shame. To turn off my phone and not look—not see life happening without me—happy memories I could be making with her if I could just reach for it. Saving myself meant continuing to hurt her and I couldn’t do it anymore.

I wouldn’t do it anymore.

I turned up the volume, not wanting to miss a single second even knowing I could play it over again.

Her soft voice slammed me right in the chest as her gentle fingertips brushed over my nephew’s cheeks. My heart ached in a whole new way as I watched her living in my life—what could be our life, if I’d only just step in and join her there.

For the first time a new pain overshadowed the old. The thought of living without her cutting me so deep the pain took my breath away as it roared through my blood.

Her lesson finally hit home.

I live for both of us now.

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