Chapter 3
Theo
Grabbing a small cart, I headed into Nature’s Basket Grocery. I was on my way to my parents’ place, and my mom had asked me to pick up a few things.
I whistled softly as I walked, steering around a woman who appeared to be lost in thought in front of the forty-seven different apple varieties.
Slowing, I eyed the pile of big, juicy Honeycrisp apples, wondering what Penelope would do with them.
Seemed like the sort of thing she’d put in a salad.
But not a plain iceberg lettuce salad. One of those hearty ones she made that looked like an actual meal.
Her accusation that my lunches were always boring came to mind, encouraging me to grab a few apples. Maybe if I tossed one in with my sandwich, she’d stop giving me a hard time. Produce was healthy, right? An apple a day and all that.
Mom had said she needed dinner rolls, so I moved on, heading for the bakery. It hadn’t escaped my attention that my parents invited me over for dinner about once a week. And I was pretty sure it was because I was the last single Haven brother.
Well, the last single Haven brother in Tilikum, at least. Who knew where my older brother Reese had gone? He’d disappeared almost twenty years ago.
Family gossip had it that he called Mom every now and then to let her know he was alive. But that was it. No idea what he was doing, where he was living, or what was going on in his life.
Or why he’d left and hadn’t come back.
Thinking about Reese tended to put me in a bad mood, so I decisively pushed that jerk out of my head while I grabbed a package of rolls. I was still riding high from the previous night’s win and I didn’t want to start brooding over my brother.
My team had played their asses off, coming back from a two-touchdown deficit in the fourth quarter, squeaking out a win with a field goal.
I was so proud of them. Morale had taken a hit and the vibe in the locker room at halftime hadn’t been good.
But they’d turned it around—proved to themselves they could.
I glanced toward the deli, still thinking about options to improve my lunches, when a woman with long dark hair caught my eye. She stood in front of a refrigerated display of prepackaged foods, reading the label on a container of guacamole.
My mouth twitched in a grin. Penelope. She wore a sweater and jeans and pushed her glasses up her nose as she kept reading.
“Hey, Penultimate,” I said, walking over to her. “What’s so riveting about that guac?”
She gasped and the container flew out of her hands. Sidestepping, I reached out and caught it with one hand.
“You startled me,” she said as I handed it back to her. “Nice move, though.”
“I’m basically a ninja.”
She snort-laughed. “Sure, you are. It’s not riveting, I was just checking the ingredients.”
“Why? Isn’t it just avocado and jalapeno or something?”
“It should be. That’s why I’m checking. Some of these have a bunch of additives.” She grinned. “Not this one.”
I smiled back and felt a weird sense of shared triumph at her successful guacamole find. “Awesome.”
“It’s not like I don’t eat junk food. I do. But if there’s junk in the stuff you think isn’t junk, then it’s that much more junk in your diet. You know?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
Her smile grew. “See, you get it. I don’t know why Sean doesn’t get it.”
Maybe because he’s an idiot.
I didn’t say anything. Just shrugged.
“Congrats on the win last night, by the way,” she said.
“Thanks. They played their hearts out.”
“I was so nervous at the end, I was actually biting my nails.” She held up her hand, but I couldn’t tell if her nails looked any different. “And my throat is still scratchy from cheering.”
“Sorry about the sore throat, but I’m glad you were there to see it.”
She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “Me too.”
The warmth that spread through my chest when she looked at me like that was both pleasant and uncomfortable. She had a pretty smile, no doubt about that. Any guy would agree. But there was something about the way she smiled at me that I both loved and hated a little bit at the same time.
I figured it was a consequence of a guy-girl friendship. There was always going to be some tension, even if it was only on my side.
Clearing my throat, I gestured to the closest aisle. “I should probably…”
“Yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”
“Hey, babe?” a male voice said behind me.
My back stiffened, and the smile disappeared from Pen’s face, her eyes darting between me and the guy approaching.
Sean.
“Are you done yet?” he asked, his tone irritated.
“Found it.” She held up the guacamole. “This is the good kind that I was looking for. No additives.”
He didn’t reply, just dropped a few things in their cart, and my jaw hitched at the way he dismissed her.
His eyes flicked toward me and his brow furrowed, as if he was wondering why I was standing there. “What’s your deal, Haven?”
As much as I would have enjoyed stepping into his personal space and staring him down until he cowered, Penelope’s worried expression held me back. I didn’t want to make things hard on her.
So I ignored him the way he’d just ignored her and grabbed a container of the same guacamole off the shelf. “Thanks for finding this. I didn’t even think to look at the ingredients.”
She smiled. “Sure.”
“See you Monday.”
“Yeah, see you,” she said.
I didn’t bother glaring at Sean. Without another word, I turned and pushed my cart in the opposite direction.
“Dick,” I muttered under my breath, irrationally annoyed that he hadn’t been grateful to Pen for finding an additive-free brand of guacamole.
I wandered down an entire aisle before I realized I couldn’t remember what else my mom had asked me to get. I patted my back pocket, looking for my phone, but it wasn’t there. Damn it. I wondered if I’d left it at home.
Butter. She’d said butter. After grabbing some, and hoping it was all I’d needed, I checked out and left.
My parents lived a short drive outside town, up a long gravel driveway. Pine trees surrounded their hand-built log home. The side yard had a picnic table on the grass and a swing set for the grandkids, and my dad had a big shop out back.
I parked my truck, grabbed the groceries, and went to the front door. Mom had decorated the porch with a bunch of pumpkins.
“Hey, Mom. Dad,” I called as I walked in. “I’m here.”
“Hi, Theo,” Mom’s voice came from the kitchen.
The short hallway was decorated with years of old photos—mostly me and my siblings as kids.
There were seven of us—six brothers and one sister.
My parents each had three little boys when they’d gotten married, then they had Annika together.
Somehow they’d brought us all together and created a family.
It had been a good way to grow up. Kinda hard to get too full of yourself, no matter who you are, when you have to share your space with so many brothers.
The hallway opened into a living room with a woodstove, cozy furniture, my mom’s knitted throw blankets everywhere, and more family photos on the mantel. Mom was in the kitchen, so I brought the grocery bags in and set them on the counter.
“Thank you, honey,” she said as she got the bread and butter out of the bag. She was dressed in a black cardigan over a T-shirt and jeans, her signature blue-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. “This saved me a lot of time.”
“No worries.” I gave her a quick kiss on her hair near her temple. “How’s everything going?”
“Oh, good. We’re fine. Dad’s out tinkering with the snowblower. Will you go tell him dinner is almost ready?”
“Sure.”
The back door opened onto a path that led to the shop.
It had metal siding and two large garage doors.
One was wide-open, and I found my dad with his handheld snowblower on a workbench surrounded by tools.
His broad shoulders and barrel chest filled out his well-worn plaid flannel shirt, and his dark hair and thick beard were peppered with gray.
Paul Haven wasn’t my biological father, but he’d adopted me when I was little.
More importantly, he was my dad in every way that mattered.
“Hey, Dad.”
He looked up and didn’t exactly smile, but the slight softening of his features was as telling as a giant grin on any other man. “Son.”
“Mom says dinner is almost ready.”
Straightening, he grabbed a shop towel and wiped his hands. “Great game last night.”
“Yeah, they played their hearts out.”
“I don’t know where Owen got those wheels of his, but, man, is he fast.”
He was right. My nephew was a talented athlete. “He’s not just fast; he has incredible instincts. That kid smells the end zone and it’s all over.”
Dad met my eyes. “He has a good coach, too.”
Gratification spread through me like warmth from a fire. “Thanks, Dad.”
Walking by, he patted me on the arm, but didn’t say anything else. He’d always been a man of few words, but once in a while he sure knew how to make them count.
I wasn’t about to puff up at his praise, though. The implications of taking the university job—assuming they offered it to me—were still swirling through my head.
Owen was brimming with natural talent, but he didn’t need me to shape him. If I left, Assistant Coach Lewis was sure to take over, and he was top-notch. He’d guide Owen, and the rest of the team, through each season like a pro. He cared. I knew I could count on him.
But how would my parents, and the rest of my family, feel about me leaving?
I followed Dad inside. As we sat down and ate—chicken with roasted vegetables—that question lingered in the back of my mind. I’d planned to bring it up. Let them know I was in the process of interviewing. But as the evening went on, I found myself avoiding it.
We chatted about the usual stuff. Dad and my brother Josiah’s latest house they were remodeling.
My nieces and nephews, especially the three baby girls who’d been born earlier that year—Garrett and Harper’s surprise baby, Isla; Zachary and Marigold’s Emily; and Josiah and Audrey’s daughter, Abby. Mom was in Grandma heaven.
There was town gossip and news about a few of Mom’s friends in her knitting group. And of course, football. As we talked, I tried to ignore the increasing stiffness in my neck and the slight shimmering at the edges of my vision.
Even in the midst of chatting all things sports, I still didn’t tell them about my upcoming interview.
Eventually, I said goodbye and headed home. I didn’t know why I’d kept it from them. If I took the job, they’d be thrilled for me. I couldn’t imagine them making me feel guilty or giving me a hard time about it. That wasn’t who they were.
My brothers, on the other hand, would give me endless shit about leaving. But that was their job. And they’d be happy for me, too. Even if they didn’t admit it right away.
Maybe it was just the fact that change was hard. Even though it was an incredible opportunity, taking a job across the country meant a lot of uncertainty. Staying where I was would be the easier path. But was it what I really wanted?
When I got home, my house felt chilly—and very empty.
It was odd. I’d lived alone for years and it never bothered me.
I was too busy to be bored or lonely. There were always lessons to plan, tests to grade, football formations to tweak, plays to develop.
But somewhere deep down, I knew all that stuff was covering up a very real emptiness inside me.
An emptiness I didn’t particularly want to face.
My house was a three-bedroom, two-bath rambler with a garage—typical in Tilikum.
Small, but livable. Especially since it was just me.
I hung my keys on the hook my sister Annika had given me as a housewarming gift.
It was in the shape of a football and looked like it belonged in a kid’s room, but I liked it anyway.
For some reason, I thought about the fact that there were no pumpkins decorating my porch. No idea why. I’d probably just noticed the fall vibe at my parents’, and the key hook made me think of Annika, who was super crafty, and probably had an elaborate fall display around her front door.
But it was weird how the lack of pumpkins tugged at that empty spot in my chest.
I went to my bedroom and shucked off my jeans. By now, I could hardly turn my head from side to side, and the vision disturbances were making me squint.
A severe neck injury did that to you.
The migraine was too far gone to avoid, so I took a dose of my prescription, hoping it would ease the pain once it hit. Cold usually felt good when I was in the midst of one, so I grabbed an ice pack, lay on the couch, and pressed it to my forehead.
And for some reason, I wished I hadn’t left that container of guacamole at my parents’ house.