Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Maddie’s brows pinch. “You basically raised yourself.”
“Yeah. Lugging my gear across snowy Buffalo streets because Dad ‘got caught up with a client’ or Mom was too drained to come pick me up. By high school, I had a job to pay for equipment and travel tournaments—wasn’t like we couldn’t afford it. I just didn’t want to give them another chance to let me down.”
Her lips press together, and her eyes glisten. “That sounds lonely. I wonder why they were like that?”
“No clue,” I admit. “Both sets of grandparents were gone when I was pretty young, so I’m guessing it’s how my parents were raised. I’ve never been close enough to either of them to ask.”
“And do you have a relationship with them now?” she asks.
“No. When I made it to the professionals, my dad tried to insinuate himself into my life, but he just liked the fame. I couldn’t stand to hear him brag about how he helped me be the man I was. It was offensive. We don’t talk much. Maybe the occasional text or call around the holidays.” I pause, throat tightening. “I haven’t even told them that Gray died or about Grayce, and I don’t feel compelled to.”
“That says a lot,” Maddie murmurs.
“That’s why Gray was everything. He showed up. He’d be the one in the stands, the one shoving fries at me after a bad game and acting like I was still the star. He didn’t have family either, not really. Whatever he had growing up, it didn’t stick. We kind of… made each other family. Brothers, even if it wasn’t blood.”
Maddie swallows, blinking fast.
“Gray was the first person who ever proved me wrong about people,” I say, voice low. “And now I know enough about you and your relationship with him, I know you know what I mean by that.”
“Yeah,” she says with a wistful smile. “Gray taught me that love could be more than empty promises.”
“Loyalty,” I concur. “He was great about showing up both physically and emotionally.”
Maddie looks down at Grayce, love shining in her eyes. “That’s why she matters so damn much. She’s the piece of him we get to keep.”
“We’re going to give her so much better than what we had.”
Maddie’s smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “She’s going to grow up spoiled on attention.”
“Good,” I say without hesitation. “Better too much than not enough.”
Something flickers across her face at that, a release of pain perhaps. “We’re narrating the entire world for her,” she says softly.
“She needs a tour guide.” I glance down at the stroller. “You’re lucky to have us, kiddo. Most parents don’t come with running commentary.”
The park sprawls open in front of us—green lawns damp with dew, clusters of budding trees, and children laughing and running around. One day, Grayce will be doing that with other neighborhood kids.
I nod toward the playground. “Think she’s big enough?”
“Definitely in the bucket swings,” Maddie says, already steering us that way.
Minutes later, Grayce is buckled into the baby swing, her cheeks flushed pink. I give a gentle push, and she lets out a giggle so bright people turn their heads to smile at her.
“Look at her!” Maddie laughs, the sound like sunlight.
My chest swells. “She’s a daredevil already.”
“Why am I not surprised you think that?”
“What?” I ask, playing stupid.
“You think skating at a year old is a legitimate goal.”
I glance at her, grinning. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Her laugh hits me hard. For a while, we take turns pushing the swing, listening to our girl squeal like life is perfect. And for those minutes, it is.
Later, when Grayce has worn herself out, we settle on a blanket in a grassy, sunlit patch. She gnaws on her teether toy, drool dripping onto her bib. Maddie tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear, the breeze teasing them free again.
I lean back, stretching my legs, watching a group of kids kick a soccer ball across the grass. Words itch my throat, heavy and sharp.
“Do you ever wonder if Gray’s insistence upon us raising Grayce together was more than giving Grayce the best?”
Maddie frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he said we were more alike than we knew, and I thought that was ridiculous at first, but looking at our backgrounds, we have the same thread running through. A lack of parental love.”
Maddie turns her head, gaze steady on me. “That’s become obvious.”
“We both built walls, refused to count on anyone other than Gray. If we don’t need anyone, they can’t fail us, right?”
“Right.” The silence hangs and then her voice wobbles. “Gray was the first person who made me feel like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just temporary.” I’m stunned when a tear slides down her cheek before she dashes it away. “And I think you might be right. I think he wanted us to look after each other in that way, not just Grayce.”