11. Chapter Eleven #2
Dustin’s goofy giggle reminds me of how fast he’s growing. It felt like yesterday that we started this game, but it’s been years. I peel the sticker from my cheek and shove it onto Koa’s forehead. “Come on, you two, or we’ll never get a hot pizza.”
Dustin practically bounces out the front door, while Koa’s gentle touch on my elbow leads me out. He pulls the door shut behind us and waits while I lock it, then guides me down the hallway as if he’s our protector and a big, scary monster might attack us between the door and his car.
“We’re going in that?” My son’s wide eyes say everything.
He’s not only excited, but he could get used to this.
My instinct to protect him kicks in, but I can’t ruin this night for him.
This is it, though. No more excursions. Only coaching.
That’s it, because I can’t let my son be disappointed by another man who has no intention of staying in his life.
An hour and one large pizza later, Dustin is in hog heaven.
Much to my dismay and protest, Koa felt it was necessary to load my child’s game card with two hundred dollars’ worth of tokens.
At this rate, we’ll be here all night. It isn’t until Dustin decides to play a basketball game that Koa finally steps away from my son and gives his attention to me.
I can’t complain, frankly, that he has spent over half an hour pretending I don’t exist while spoiling my child, but it’s not something either of us should enjoy too much.
Koa leans against the railing separating the game area from the waiting area and smiles. “He’s a really great kid.”
“I know, but I might be a little biased.”
“Biased or not, you’re right.” He slides a bit closer until his fingers graze mine on the rail. “I am truly sorry for everything that happened between us. Apparently, I don’t handle stress well. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel as if I’ve made amends.”
Dipping my head, I try to come up with the words that will set his mind at ease. If nothing else, his dedication and attention toward Dustin have made up for everything. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you, truly.”
My eyes never leave my son, who laughs and throws the ball again.
“You worry about him.” Koa stands straight and shifts his weight so he’s facing me. “I probably don’t have a right to assume anything about you, but I see it in your eyes.”
His stare exposes those parts of me that stay on high alert at all times.
The parts that not only worry for my son, but find themselves in constant limbo between letting him grow and wanting to shelter him from every bad thing that could ever happen to him.
This, coupled with Koa’s encouraging, warm eyes have me spilling my guts where normally I’d clam up.
“I do. It’s hard to raise a son, and I worry I’m not enough sometimes.”
“He’s a great kid. Must mean you’re doing something right. He’s gonna be fine. He’s got a great mom, and you’re working hard to make sure he has exposure to great men. His coach is one of the best I know.”
I huff a laugh and make eye contact with him. “Maybe so, but you’re his favorite player.”
“I didn’t say he had good taste. I said he’s a good kid.” Koa’s laugh is infectious enough to ease my mind and laugh with him. “In all seriousness, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I’ve never met a boy so well-adjusted with a single mom. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
I sigh and sink into the rail a little, letting it shoulder some of the weight. “I hope so.”
“Am I allowed to ask about his father?” He looks at me with the sort of hesitation everyone has when they aren’t sure if we’re friends yet, if it’s okay to dig a little into my life to get to know me. I hate that look. It isn’t some big secret. It just is what it is.
“He was my first and only love. We hadn’t planned on having kids, but when I got pregnant, I was excited. He was not. He encouraged me to end the pregnancy, and when I refused, he left.”
When I say no more, Koa goes rigid. “Wait. That…that’s it?”
“Yep,” I pop. “Nothing more, nothing less. A few years ago he got into some trouble and now he’s in prison, but he hasn’t contacted me since the day he left unless you count the court date for our divorce finalization.”
“What a—” Koa stops midsentence and clenches his jaw. “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s normal for people to want to know.
” I shrug it off, used to the questions after so many years.
I chose my son, and my ex couldn’t handle it.
If I had been a smarter woman, I would have noticed all the times he’d put himself before anyone else.
All the times my hopes and dreams came second to his.
All the ways he used me to stroke his own ego.
It was an awful relationship, but I was young and too in love to see it.
“Still, I shouldn’t have asked until I got to know you better.
” He digs in his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
Retrieving two tickets, he hands them to me.
“We have these free game passes to give out to fans and things. I’d really love it if you could bring Dustin to a game.
I can show him around after and he can meet the rest of the team, if you think he’d like that? ”
“Like it? Ha! He’ll never want to come home. Thank you.” The tickets Koa hands me say friends and family, but I don’t dwell on the thought that this man who I was on the verge of despising, might possibly become a friend.
I’m not so sure that can happen. Friendship between a man and a woman is one thing, but between a man and a single mother is something else.
This could go horribly wrong when Koa moves on with his life—whether that’s a trade to another team, or he just gets bored—and I’m not sure I have the emotional fortitude to pick up the pieces when that happens.
I’ll take Dustin to the game, thank Koa for it, then work to put a wall between us that is strictly coach and parent. That’s all my son can manage. It’s all I can manage.