Chapter Eight #2
Even though it’s late afternoon, I have to travel back to Jersey tonight, so I accept.
I love coming to her house. It feels alive in the best way. The kids’ drawings on the fridge, shoes piled in the mudroom, toys scattered everywhere but the toy bins, and a basket of laundry waiting to be folded. It’s the kind of home that’s too busy to be perfect.
My dad would have loved that she’s created a home like this for her family.
“Here you go.” My sister sets my cup on the island.
“Thanks,” I say, turning to walk toward her and away from the window.
“So, anything new with you outside of football?” She leans her hip against the counter.
I shake my head. “Not really. We’re in the thick of it, trying to get a spot in the playoffs. Typical November pressure.” I laugh.
“No doubt.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “It was great to see Presley last month at your game. It’s been a while. She doing okay?”
“Yeah, she’s good.” I nod.
“That’s it?”
“Yes?” I look at her and smirk. “She’s busy being the team doctor.”
“Mmhmm.” She stares at me, like she knows something I don’t.
“What?”
She smiles. “Your tone changes when you talk about her.”
“No, it doesn’t. I sound like I always do.”
“You sound like you’re trying to sound normal, but I know you.” She tilts her head, smiling.
“Savannah.” I drag a hand down my face.
“What? All I asked was how she was doing.”
“With intent.” I smirk.
“I’m your sister. Anything to do with you has intent. I need to keep my eye on you.”
“Technically, it’s my job to keep an eye on you.” I cover her hand with mine.
“And you do an amazing job of it. We’re a good time, you and me.” She curls her fingers around mine.
“We are, aren’t we? I just wish you guys lived closer to me.”
“I know, me too. But you won’t play forever, so maybe when you retire we can talk about it some more.” She turns her head to look out the window.
“God, it’s hard to even imagine retiring. I still feel like I have a lot of game left.” I follow her gaze, watching my nephew and niece run circles around their dad.
“Wyatt,” she says softly, “do you still love Presley?”
My head snaps to hers. “What?”
“I think you love her,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Of course I do. She’s been in my life for a long time.” I shrug.
“That’s not the same thing. But I’ll let it go. I just want to see you happy. I know you want a family someday.” She puts an arm around my shoulder.
I don’t know what to say, so I just nod.
We both look out the window and see Remy chasing Chris across the yard, while Rhyan stands on an old tree stump with her arms raised, like she’s conquered a mountain.
“They adore you,” she says quietly.
“And I adore them.”
“I know you do.” She pauses. “Which reminds me … I need to ask you something.”
I look back at her. “Okay, shoot.”
She rubs her thumb along the side of her mug, not looking at me, which puts me on alert.
“Chris and I are talking about taking a trip in late January,” she says. “Just the two of us for five days, maybe six depending on where we decide to go.”
“That’s good. I’m sure you guys need some alone time.”
“Yes, it would be our first real vacation alone since Remy was born.”
“So what does this have to do with me? What did you want to ask?” I turn my body and lean against the counter while taking a sip of my coffee.
She lifts her cup too, and looks at me over the top. “I’m hoping you can watch the kids for us.”
My chest tightens. Not because I don’t want to. I absolutely do. Five or six days with them … we’d have a blast.
But January would be tough for me. The playoffs are in January, and as it stands now, we have a good chance of making it. As long as everyone stays healthy and we don’t break down, we’ll be in.
Either way, I can’t commit.
She sees the answer before anything comes out of my mouth. Which makes me feel guilty as fuck.
“Savannah…”
“It’s okay,” she waves me off. “I know there’s a chance you might make the playoffs.”
“I just don’t know where we’ll be, you know?”
“Wyatt, you don’t have to explain. I know the routine.”
“You know I want to say, yes, right?” I set my cup down and put my hand on her shoulder.
“I know.”
“I mean it. I would absolutely say yes, if I could.”
“I just wanted to ask because …” she says, then stops.
“What?”
She exhales. “I don’t really want to leave them with Chris’s parents for that long if we don’t have to.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“They love the kids,” she says quickly. “They do. Evelyn and Dennis are good people. But they don’t respect our rules and boundaries.
Like, at all. And they’re dismissive when Chris tries to talk to them about it, playing it off as just wanting to spoil their grandkids.
I get it, but every time the kids stay with them, they come home wild, and I’m the one who has to get them back on their routines. ”
I glance out the window, watching Rhyan wave a stick like a sword. “Define wild.”
“Well, the last time, Remy came home asking for sweet tea before bed, and was trying to convince me that veggies were optional because Grandma said that childhood should be magical. And apparently, magic doesn’t include broccoli or proper nutrition for a growing boy.”
I blink. “Okay, and?”
“And Rhyan had watched three dragon movies in a row and insisted she would no longer answer to her name. Only Empress Flameclaw. It took weeks before she moved on. Oh, and ice cream was a replacement for dinner.”
I press my lips together, trying to hold my laugh.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” she warns.
“I didn’t. Can’t blame a girl for having a strong personality… and a sweet tooth.” I hold up my hands.
“She also didn’t want to wear pants for two days.”
That’s it. I can’t hold it. I let out a full-belly laugh, and my sister slaps my arm.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“Not funny at preschool drop-off when I’m fighting with her in the car to put some pants on. Or even just a pair of little shorts.”
I try to stop laughing. “I mean, she’s just exercising her free will.”
“Wyatt.”
“Sorry.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
Her mouth twitches despite herself.
“I just want them with someone who will keep their routine and respect our wishes and how we parent them,” she says. “Someone I trust. Who I feel safe leaving them with.”
“I really am sorry,” I say quietly.
She softens. “No, don’t worry about it. I knew it was a long shot this time of year.”
I wrap her in a hug. “Please don’t ever stop asking though. If I can do it, I absolutely will.”
She steps out of my hold and puts her coffee cup in the sink.
“I should have a better idea by mid-December, and then I can tell you for sure.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about it. We have to make the plans if we want to get decent-priced tickets.” She smiles.
“Okay, but can you keep me posted? If I’m not playing and they need help or if you want me to get the kids from his parents early, I will if I can.”
“For sure. I’ll send you an itinerary once we get everything planned.”
Outside, Remy shouts my name.
I walk to the window just in time to see him fall on his butt, making Rhyan laugh hysterically.
God, I love them.
“You deserve this same kind of love and happiness, Wyatt,” she says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “And if that’s not with Presley, I know you can find someone to share your life with. You’re a special person.”
I nod slowly. “With Presley, it’s complicated. The fact that we work together doesn’t bother me, but I’m not sure if she would feel the same. Not to mention, we come from very different worlds. And at the end of the day, if I wasn’t enough for her, it would kill me to lose her.”
“But you won’t know unless you try.”
I look down at her.
“Either way, you could lose something.”
That lands harder.
Before I can answer, the back door bursts open and Rhyan storms inside, cheeks pink, stick still in hand.
“It’s starting to snow!”
Remy comes in behind her. “Uncle Saint, come see the snow.”
I look at my sister.
She smiles but shakes her head. “I’m staying warm in here. I can see the snow out the window.”
I grab my coat off a kitchen chair and ruffle Remy’s hair. “Okay, let’s go see the snow.”
Rhyan grabs my hand. “And then you can do my cordnation.”
“Coronation?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“Right, sorry, I must have misheard.” I chuckle.
And for the next hour, I let myself just be Uncle Saint.
When the sky starts to get dark, Savannah calls us in, and that familiar ache settles in my chest again.
It always does when I have to leave them.
They walk me to the door, and I hug each one, wishing I had a little more time. But I need to get back so I can make it to practice tomorrow. And if it’s snowing here, there’s a good chance we’re getting some snow in Jersey.
“I love you all. I’ll see you soon, okay? Remy, keep practicing your slap shot. Rhyan, keep your kingdom under control.” I point at her.
“I will, I promise,” she says, grinning.
“Chris, see you later, man. Take care of my sister.” I give him a one-armed hug.
“Always,” he says.
Savannah walks me out to my rental.
“You’ll make it to the airport on time?”
“Oh yeah, I’m good.”
“Text me when you land.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiles, but it fades into something softer. “I’m really glad you came.”
I pull her into a hug. “Me too. Thank you for keeping me posted on his schedule.”
Her arms tighten around me, and for a second, neither of us says anything.
When she pulls back, she wipes under one eye quickly, like she doesn’t want me to see her tears.
I put my hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”
She nods, then steps back. “Love you. Be safe.”
I stare at her for a minute. “Love you too. I’ll text you when I land.”
Before I start getting choked up, I get into the car.
When I pull away from the curb, I see Remy and Rhyan in the window, waving wildly.
I laugh, wave, and drive away with my heart full, but also aching. It’s never easy to say goodbye to them.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzes in the cupholder.
Presley.
I look at the screen at a red light, my thumb swiping open the message.
Presley: How was your visit?
My thoughts wander to the things my sister said to me today.
Saint: It was good. Remy’s on his way to the NHL, and Rhyan might overthrow a small country.
She replies almost immediately.
Presley: So, typical visit? LOL
I smile.
Presley: I’m glad you got to see them.
I stare at her words until the light turns green, then set the phone back in the cupholder. My sister’s voice echoes in my head.
“You won’t know unless you try.”
“Either way, you could lose something.”
I know I want her.
I’ve wanted her for years. But that’s not the scary part.
It’s that I’m starting to believe that I might just be done pretending I don’t.