Chapter Twenty One
Saint
It’s hard to believe it’s been three months since Savannah and Chris died. Three months since the world split for me and for Remy and Rhyan, too. I feel like I’m still trying to wake up from a dream.
Being back in North Carolina opens some of the wounds that I thought were slowly healing. The cruel part about being here is that everything looks the same. But it’s spring now, and the trees are budding, and the grass is getting greener. Like life here moved on.
I’m standing at Savannah’s kitchen window, leaning against the countertop behind me, staring out into the backyard. It feels like it was just yesterday that I stood here with my sister.
Now we’re back here to … what? Negotiate? Compromise? To sit across from Chris’s parents and try to figure out a solution for the kids, like they’re a scheduling conflict rather than two small people with broken hearts?
I shut my eyes and pull in a deep breath to try to calm myself down.
Remy and Rhyan are at the Harts’ for the afternoon. When we pick them up later, we’ll sit down and try to find some sort of resolution. Or at the very least, start the conversation.
I hate every part of this. Not the visit.
I want them to have their grandparents in their lives.
And I truly mean that. Hell, I’ll fly Evelyn and Dennis up to New Jersey whenever they want.
I’ll cover every hotel, flight, meal …anything and everything.
And I’ll make sure they’re there for the big moments too, like hockey games, school plays, birthdays. I’m not trying to erase them.
But I’m also not going to let them take my sister’s kids away from me. Because Savannah and Chris chose me to raise them.
A hand slides across my back.
“You okay?” Presley asks.
“I’m not really sure what I’m feeling.”
Her hand stills, then starts moving again, slow and steady.
“Well, I think that’s a fair answer.”
We’re both quiet for a moment.
“She stood here with me,” I say.
Presley looks at me.
“The last time I was here, we watched them play.”
Her face softens. “I can see that.”
I press my palm harder against the counter. “At home, the pain isn’t any less, but I’m in my space, my routine. Being here, it still doesn’t feel real.”
“I’m sure it’s difficult being here.”
“I just keep thinking she’s going to walk in here any minute and tell me it was some kind of test or something.”
Presley leans against me.
I pull in a deep breath to try to steady myself and take hold of Presley’s hand and feel her ring on her finger.
“I wonder what my sister would think of us getting married,” I say.
“You think she would approve?” she asks.
I look at her. “Definitely.”
She holds my gaze. “Savannah loved you,” she says. “She adored her children. She wanted them safe. And I’m certain she wants you to be happy.”
My throat tightens because for a minute, it hits me—the fact that this marriage doesn’t feel like an arrangement for me, but that Presley still might see it that way.
I look back out the window. “You’re right. She would.”
I push off the counter and turn to face her, and I lean down to kiss her temple. “We should probably get going.”
Presley wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest. “Are you sure you want me to come with you? Do you think they would be more receptive if I wasn’t there?”
“I want you with me. Besides, we need to tell them we’re married, and if you aren’t with me, it would look pretty strange.”
She nods. “I just wanted to make sure.”
I take her arms from around me, thread my fingers with hers, grab my keys off the counter, and head toward the door. “Let’s go do this.”
Ten minutes later, we pull up to the Hart’s home. I see Evelyn look out the window, then she disappears, only to open the front door.
When we dropped off the kids earlier, I noticed she looked smaller than before. Like grief had aged her. Her cheeks look hollow, and there are sharp lines around her mouth that weren’t there before. Dennis, Chris’s father, stands beside her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on the doorframe.
I watch them for a minute and have to remind myself that they really aren’t the enemy here. They’re also grieving and scared. But still, my body tenses.
Presley lays a hand on my forearm. “Just breathe.”
So I do.
“Saint.”
“What? I’m breathing.”
“You’re growling.”
“Same thing. Air is moving in and out.”
I look over to catch her rolling her eyes.
“Come on, let’s go do this before you back the car out of the driveway.” She takes her hand off my arm and opens her door.
We say our hellos and hug the kids, who hear us come in and run to the door to see us.
Remy whispers in my ear. “I missed you.”
I close my eyes, my turn my head just enough to kiss him on the side of his head. “I missed you, too, bud.”
Rhyan’s in Presley’s arms, and she dives for me, and we switch kids.
“Remy, can you take your sister out to the backyard and play on the Mystic Tower for a little while so we can talk to your uncle and Presley?” Evelyn places a hand on Remy’s shoulder and smiles.
He looks up at me, and I nod to let him know everything is okay.
Once the kids are outside, Rhyan is ordering Remy around from the top of the backyard play set, and we sit down at the kitchen table. I watch them for a minute through the window.
It does look like a tower. We should probably get something like that for my house.
My attention turns back to the Harts. I see a folder and a notepad on the table, along with a tissue box.
“Can I get either of you something to drink?” Evelyn offers with a slight shakiness to her voice.
“I’m okay, thank you,” Presley answers.
I shake my head. “No thank you.”
Although my mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls.
I don’t want to sit around exchanging fake pleasantries, so I start the conversation.
“Look, I want them in your lives.”
Evelyn’s eyes start to fill with tears. And Dennis’s hands are clasped tightly on the able, his expression guarded.
“I mean that,” I say, looking between them. “I don’t want to cut you out. I don’t want Remy and Rhyan growing up without their grandparents. You’re the only ones they’ve got.”
Evelyn takes a tissue from the box and presses it to her mouth. “We just miss them so much.”
“I understand that.”
“No,” she says, voice breaking. “Wyatt, you don’t. Seeing them … makes us feel close to Chris. They’re all we have left of him.”
Dennis clears his throat, his eyes shining even though his voice stays firm. “Chris was our only child. And we fought a long battle of IVF treatments just to have him. And now, he’s gone.”
Presley’s hand slides over mine under the table.
I look at them and nod slowly. “I know you love them. I do. And I don’t want to take your memories of Chris either. I don’t want to take them away from people they love, and also their only connection to their father. And these kids are my only family left, so trust me, I do understand.”
That makes Evelyn choke on a sob.
“Then how is this going to work?” Dennis asks. “Your schedule isn’t exactly nine to five.”
“No,” I say, “it’s not.”
“You travel. You train a lot. You have camps. Then the games. What happens when they have school or one of them gets sick or there’s a parent-teacher conference?”
“I’ll be there as much as I can,” I say. “And if I can’t be there, Presley will. And lucky for all of us, she’s a doctor, so if the kids get sick, they’ll be just fine.”
Dennis looks at Presley. “But she’s not family.”
I clear my throat. “Presley and I are married, and she’s been in my life for eleven years. She’s very much part of my family, even before we were married.”
Presley sits up straighter.
“If I may?” She looks at me, and I nod.
“I know this is a big adjustment,” she says.
“But I’m not just Saint’s wife. I’m part of the kids’ daily routine.
Yes, I’m the team doctor, so my schedule will coincide with the team’s, but he and I will build a schedule that works for us around the kids.
When he can’t be with them, I will be. And”—she pauses—“lucky for us, my family owns the team, so I have a little more flexibility than the average team doctor.”
Evelyn wipes beneath her eyes. “I know, but I still don’t understand how it will work since both of you travel together.”
“I grew up in this life, and my parents made it work. We will too. They will travel with us a lot unless it conflicts with something in their schedule,” Presley says gently.
“And if Saint and I both need support, my family is there. My sister and her soon-to-be husband spend a lot of time with us. They have a daughter, a year younger than Rhyan, and they are like two peas in a pod. And, yes, Liam will also be with us since he’s the quarterback, but my sister doesn’t always travel, and when she does, she brings Seraphina.
We have a very close-knit family, and we know what it means to build a family around football.
My family has been doing it for generations. ”
I look back at Dennis. “NFL players have families, Dennis. I’m not pretending it’ll be perfect, but that would also apply if I weren’t a professional athlete.
We’ll do whatever we have to do to make it work for them.
” I pause. “And let’s be honest, I’m thirty years old now.
My football career won’t last forever. I’ll be retired before they hit middle school, if not sooner. ”
Presley looks over at me and blinks.
I guess it’s not something we’ve really talked out, but it’s the truth all the same. I’m getting older, and as much as I would love to play forever, my body won’t let me eventually.
“I don’t want to go to court over this,” I continue. “I really don’t. Remy and Rhyan don’t need to be caught in the middle of adults fighting over who loves them more.”
But if I have to, I’ll fight with everything I have, and I have the financial resources to do so, but I know they don’t. And I won’t in good conscience bankrupt them over loving their grandchildren and wanting to be in their lives.