32. Lana
32
LANA
S itting at my desk, I watch the clock and pray I can intercept Coach Turner before his next meeting. The weekend had been an emotional roller coaster with phone calls and plans in place for the future. There had been no rest, but it was worth it. Getting here was worth it.
And I owe so much of the progress we’d made to Mason.
He and Beck came in from their come to Jesus talk sweaty and wrung out, but by the looks of them, it was more than just from running.
They’d both kissed my cheek, Beck asking if we could talk after his shower. I agreed, my heart filling with hope even while my belly dipped with nerves.
He’d come down a short time later, his hair wet and looking so grown up despite the cartoon characters printed on his pajamas.
He apologized and then told me about how strained his relationship had become with his father, how uncomfortable the visits were, and how they pretended to like being there. It was a conversation I’d brought up gently with Holland later and she’d voiced the same concerns. The whole thing broke my heart. The man I married, the man who had fathered two incredible kids, had made the biggest mistake of his life.
And it was time he owned it.
Despite the extra charge for it being the weekend, I’d contacted my lawyer to start working on a new custody arrangement to submit to the court. Jacob’s threat to file for custody had been a bluff, but mine wasn’t.
He’d threatened a lot during our divorce and I’d toed the line to keep the peace for too long. I’m done being bullied by the man who promised me forever. He’ll have to pry our children from my cold dead hands if he thinks I’m still the same meek woman who’d been too blind to see his infidelity.
If he wanted a scene, he’d get one.
Coach Turner’s door opens, and a couple of students shuffle out, laughing and joking as they head for their next class.
“Coach? Do you have a minute?”
“Of course, come on in.” I close the door behind me and his brows furrow. “Everything all right?”
“Yes,” I say with a shrug of my shoulder, “and no.”
“What can I help with?”
“I don’t want special treatment, but my son was really looking forward to attending the football camp you hold here in the summer. My ex-husband was supposed to make the arrangements, and he didn’t.”
Coach grins. “I got a call from Nessa Hart over the weekend. I’m sorry it slipped my mind. We’d be thrilled to have Beckham…” He draws out his name as he waits for my confirmation.
“Beck.”
“We’d be delighted to have Beck with us,” he says, handing me a couple of forms. “Been catchin’ the eye of some of the staff the days he stays after school in the weightroom.”
“He’s been working really hard. And normally I wouldn’t ask this, especially given my position here but?—”
He waves me off. “A lot of programs are cutthroat at their age, but we’re still tryin’ to make sure they’re having fun too. We want to send these kids out into the world well-rounded and ready to put in the work. If Beck is willing to do that, I have no problem takin’ him on.”
My eyes well with tears because I’m so damn thankful for everyone who not only welcomed us but made us family.
“He’ll work hard for you, Coach.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” He pauses. “Now what about you, young lady?” He pulls a course book from under another pile of papers and hands it to me. “I took the liberty of flagging some of the things in our continuing education department that might interest you if you’re still serious about getting your real estate license.”
“Thank you,” I whisper and he grins, big and toothy, and I have to laugh because none of it seems real.
“I told you I’d help,” he says, his eyes now sparkling. “My job is to make sure the people who come through this door succeed or at least have the tools to do so.” Pointing at the pile of paperwork in my hand, he adds, “And, my dear, that includes you.”
For a long time, I’d thought Jacob was the standard, but he’s not. Not even close, and I’m so damn thankful I can see that now.
“I can’t tell you what this means to me,” I say as I stand.
“Just invite me to the celebration when you’re done and we’ll call it square.”
“Deal.”
“And can you send Shay over here if you see her? I swear that girl is impossible to get ahold of these days.”
“Sure thing, Coach.”
“What did he say?” Beck asks, practically vibrating as he bursts through the front door. I chuckle because it’s such a different feeling than the last time he’d done it.
“He said that if you’re willing to work hard, he’d be happy to have you,” I say, keeping my voice serious but unable to keep the smile from my face.
“Thank you!” he exclaims, running at me and wrapping his arms around me as he does a little dance, lifting me clear off the floor.
“Beck!” I laugh as Mason and Holland walk in the still open door. “Put me down, you goof!”
He does but his smile matches mine, and this time when he hugs me, it’s the kind he used to give me when he was a little boy—the kind that made me feel like he was hugging me with his whole heart.
“Good news?” Mason asks and I nod.
“Coach said Nessa called him over the weekend. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He shrugs but his lips twitch. “I may have mentioned something to Jensen.”
Beck releases me and barrels into Mason who grunts on impact and rocks back a step as he chuckles. “Take it you’re excited then?”
“Thank you,” my son says, emotion thick in those two words.
Mason had reached out to Ellison’s fiancé, Montana Greene, and asked if he’d be willing to let Beck work off the cost of the football camp at the farm.
We’d talked at length about it. My heart felt like it’d been torn from my chest when Beck told me he didn’t think I could afford to send him to camp. It would have been tight, but I would have made it happen. And I still could.
But Beck had decided he wanted to work, and he’d made all the arrangements with Montana, talking about tasks and responsibilities if all this panned out.
And now it had.
“Put your stuff away. Bodhi will be here in a few minutes and dinner will be ready a little after that.”
Mason drops a kiss on my lips once the kids are gone, and I let myself sink into him, reveling in the way his hard body feels against mine.
“I missed you,” I breathe in the space between us, expecting him to say the same. But he doesn’t.
“I love you,” he murmurs, my eyelids flying open as I look up at him.
“Really?”
“Of course.” He chuckles, even though it seems like he’s still trying the words on for size. “I felt it the day I met you.”
“That’s a very good line, Mr. Amato.”
“How good?” he teases, his hands sliding down my back to grip my ass. I giggle and then groan, my forehead falling to his chest as the doorbell rings and Holland rushes to get it.
“Your brother has the worst timing.”
“I’ll be sure to let him know.”
“Don’t you dare.” I laugh, moving out of his arms and to the door where Holland has already given Bodhi her life story before he’s even inside.
“Holland, let the man breathe,” I tell her, the words filled with affection.
“It’s no problem,” he says, his features softer than I’d ever seen them as he walks into the kitchen and sets a plate on the counter.
“You bake?” I ask and Mason snorts, my head whipping to his but not missing the scowl on his brother’s face.
“What?” I ask, looking between the two as Holland peeks under the tinfoil.
“They’re courtesy of Flora Thayer,” Bodhi says, as Mason looks over Holland’s shoulder and fist pumps.
“Yes! Mama Thayer cookies.” He snags one and breaks it in half, my daughter’s eyelids fluttering shut when she takes her first bite. I think they’re being dramatic, but Bodhi just shrugs as Beck comes into the kitchen, Mason handing him a cookie. My kid doesn’t even hesitate, shoving the whole thing in his mouth and reaching for a second.
I smack his hand away and move the plate.
“Y’all are going to ruin your dinner if you keep it up,” I scold the lot of them, not missing the way they’re all smirking as I turn for the cabinet. “Bodhi, can I get you something to drink?”
“Water is fine, thank you.”
Nodding, I grab the glass and turn the water to cold, but before I can put it under the tap, I lose my grip, dropping the glass and it shattering in a million little pieces.
“Shit,” I hiss as blood gushes from where I’d belatedly tried to grab it, only to end up with tiny cuts and one sizable one that has me blinking back tears.
“Lana, are you all right?” Mason asks, shutting off the water and wrapping my hand in a dishtowel as I watch him like I’m having some out-of-body experience. His gaze meets mine and he gives a single nod. “That answers that question.”
“I’ll clean this up; get her to urgent care,” Bodhi says somewhere behind me and I let my eyelids fall shut.
So much for a good impression.