Chapter 8
EIGHT
Bishop
“Hey!” Aspen calls from the kitchen, where I hear pans clattering.
“Hi,” I answer. “Everything all right in here?” I make my way in and see her sorting through some of the items Kit left behind and popping them onto a tray for the oven.
“Yes. Fine. Just fine. Just reheating things during the pregame.” She glances back over her shoulder and flashes me a smile. But I can still see the hint of exhaustion on her, and I worry she’s pushing too hard too fast on this recovery.
“Should you be doing this much? You don’t want to overdo it.”
“I’m almost done. Just getting things in the oven. Everything sounded so good; I couldn’t pick.”
“There’s nothing left over for me to take then?” I tease her when I see she’s wiped the basket clean.
“Oh. Um. You can take the cold stuff. There’re some veggies and fruit on a tray and some cold cuts.
Do you want me to get that ready for you?
I thought…” She shakes her head. “It’s not a problem.
I can’t eat it all. There’s way too much food.
Enough to feed an army. So it’ll be perfect for you and your friends. ”
“You thought what?” Because I’m hoping she’ll let me stay. I hated her being sick, but getting to be close to her the last couple of days without other eyes on us has been the reprieve I’ve been wanting for months now.
“I thought earlier that it sounded like you wanted to stay here for the game. If you don’t, that’s completely fine. Like I said—”
“I want to.” I cut her off at the pass before she can make any more excuses.
“The guys aren’t gonna be as invested as Ramsey’s sister.
Yeah? And I need to watch with someone invested because I need the Chaos to win tonight so we can celebrate when they’re all back.
Besides, I’m not missing out on Kit’s food. ”
“Okay. As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“I… um, while this is reheating and I finish cleaning up, I put something out on the table for you.” She nods to the kitchen table, and I cross to it.
There’s an album sitting there, with a small photo of a child tucked into the front photo frame.
She has wild dark-brown hair and wide eyes that are bright green with two small spots of golden-hazel color in them.
It’s Fallon’s baby book. I don’t know what I expected her to have for me, but it wasn’t this.
I sink into the chair at the kitchen table.
“There are pictures of her in there from when I was pregnant until she’s about three.
I’ve got others if you want to see them after, but I thought you might…
” She trails off when she sees me nodding silently but emphatically.
“I can get them after you’re done with that one.
” There’s a small smile that comes and goes from her lips, and I could honestly kiss her right now for offering me this olive branch.
I open the book and see a list of Fallon’s vitals from when she was born, the date and time, and her tiny footprint on the page in black ink.
It hits me in the chest with the weight of a thousand bricks that I missed what should have been the most important moment of my life.
I didn’t get to hold those tiny feet or kiss the sweet little cheeks that are rosy pink from a fit of giggles a few pages later.
I missed holding Aspen’s hand while she pushed and getting cursed at for putting her in that position—something I can tell is happening in the next photo.
One where she glares at the camera as she takes a deep breath in a hospital gown, her green eyes bright with pain and anticipation.
I never got to open the door for them for the first time as mama and baby, helping Aspen in with one hand and perfectly balancing Fallon’s carrier with the other to avoid waking her up from the nap she started on the way home.
And these were just the first few days.
The more pages I turn, the more the moments pile up, squeezing tighter and tighter, like a band around my heart.
Her first time sitting up, her first solid food, and her first steps all whiz by in a few pages.
Then she’s toddling around the ranch house, holding her grandmother’s hand and laughing in her grandfather’s lap.
He beams at her with the pride I wish I could have experienced firsthand, a chance I can never get back.
There’s another set of photos of Fallon and Aspen with the horses, and a few of them standing by the fence, Fallon’s hand reaching out to touch one of the cows’ noses while she giggles.
Then the photos are in Boston. A children’s museum, a park where she holds her little arms wide as Aspen pushes her on the swing, and another where Fallon sits on her mom’s lap in what looks like a small office on a university campus.
The wedding ring I recognize all too well from the first night I came back here this winter is on Aspen’s hand in the photos, but Ethan is nowhere to be found.
“There are so many of the two of you alone together,” I murmur, looking up at her. She pauses as she dries some dishes in front of the sink, staring out the window.
“It was just the two of us a lot in the early years. Ethan was on the road for his games. But the university had a daycare for employees, and since I was a teacher’s assistant and had a stipend, I was able to use it.
” She walks over and turns a couple of pages.
“This park was nearby, and we used to go there almost every day. She loved the squirrels. They always made her laugh.” Aspen grins at the spread of photos and turns the page, telling me one story and then another until I feel like I might burst from the brackish mix of elation at finally having a window into their world and the misery of having missed it.
“Oh gosh, I’ll have to tell you about the absolute obsession she had with otters. Her otter stuffie went with her everywhere, and if someone asked its name, she had to give them the entire backstory.” Aspen laughs, and it’s the cheeriest I’ve seen her since she’s been here.
“Thank you.” I risk reaching out and letting my fingers brush hers where she’s touching the pages.
She glances down at the contact, her eyes shifting to me a moment later, studying my face.
“Truly, this means a lot to see these and hear you talk about her. I want to know everything. Or as much as you’re willing to share anyway. ”
She nods, her lashes fluttering like she feels the same pull of weight as me for the briefest of moments. Her smile returns while she grins down at the photos of Fallon—our daughter.
“I’m happy to share as much as you want to know. I want her to know you too. It’ll take some time, but I think the two of you… I know she’d love you if she knew you, and you’d love her too. She’s got some of our best qualities, I think.”
“And our worst?” I laugh, trying to ward off the tears I feel threatening.
“Those too. But I was gonna wait to share those.” She laughs with me.
“I love her already. Anything you’re willing to give me, I’m here for it.”
Aspen slips her hand over mine, squeezing it gently as she speaks with the slightest hint of trepidation in her voice. “That makes me so happy. I can’t tell you how much.”