Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
She makes everything okay.
“I’ve got another one,” Nathan says, eyes crinkling at the corners with his laugh. “This one is all Foster.” He grins.
“Oh, is this the shoe?” Hope asks, eyes twinkling.
“Ugh,” I groan, which only makes them laugh harder. I’m pretending to be annoyed, but tonight has been incredible. I was nervous, but they showed up, hugged me, then Eden, and with each minute that passed, the nerves fell away. We had a nice dinner of steak and baked potatoes that Eden made, with Hope’s insistence to help. Now, we’re sitting around talking, and Coach Nathan is telling stories of my high school and college football days, moments even I forgot about, and some I didn’t think he knew about.
“That seals the deal.” Eden pokes my side. “I need to hear this one.”
“It’s a doozy,” Nathan assures her. “Okay. Here goes.” He leans forward, rubbing his hands together. “It was his senior year, Friday night lights,” he says, setting the stage. “Foster gets the handoff from our QB, and I’m telling you, the line opens up like the heavens. Perfectly,” Nathan says.
“It really did,” Hope agrees.
“It was like Moses parted the Red Sea,” Nathan says as laughter rumbles in his chest. “So, Foster takes the opportunity. He bursts through, jukes one defender, stiff-arms another, and is flying, as if he had wings, toward the endzone.”
“I’m new to this juke and stiff-arm business, but I’m with you,” Eden tells him, smiling. I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer.
She’s never close enough.
“Oh, we’ll get you there,” Hope assures her.
“Right, okay, so Foster is making his run, and the crowd starts losing their minds. Screaming, cheering, yelling, there might have been a few tears because we were trailing by three, and there was like less than a minute on the play clock. I can’t remember exactly,” Nathan says.
“Forty-three seconds,” Hope tells him. She glances over at me and smiles, and I feel that smile inside my chest. The easy affection, something that’s always been there, but I was too stubborn to accept.
“Thanks, honey.” Nathan smiles at his wife. “So, the crowd is going insane, and little did we know, Foster’s cleat comes untied.” His smile grows, and even though I was there, it’s fun to hear his retelling.
“He doesn’t notice at first. He’s still sprinting, arms pumping, glory flashing before his eyes. Until”—Nathan’s body shakes; he’s enjoying telling this one far too much, but it makes me smile—“his shoe flies off behind him like a discarded rocket booster,” he says, his voice rising with glee. “One of his own teammates dives on the shoe while yelling, ‘Fumble!’ at full volume.” Nathan is sputtering with laughter, his body shaking.
“Jonesy swore it was the ball,” I add, chuckling. Dude was embarrassed as hell, but we all gave him an A for effort. “So, I’m running with one cleat, panicking but not letting it stop me,” I add, picking up the story because Nathan is still laughing too hard. “I keep pushing, but I end up slipping. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I knew I was going down, so to try and save the play, I ducked into a somersault, and somehow the foot with the cleat landed first in the end zone.”
“Touchdown!” Hope cheers, and we all laugh.
“The refs were stunned. The crowd grew silent for maybe half a second, then completely erupted. I think that’s the loudest game that school has ever heard,” Nathan says, his laughter finally under control.
“My teammates started calling me by a princess name we will not repeat,” I tell Eden. “They reminded me every game and every practice for the rest of the season to double-knot my laces so I don’t lose my slipper, meaning my cleats,” I explain.
Eden giggles. “I got that part.” She smiles, her eyes glowing with happiness.
“That’s one for the history books,” Nathan says. “A sixty-two-yard touchdown, assisted by gravity and poor footwear.”
“I love it!” Eden says, laughing.
“Thank you for this, Foster,” Hope says. “It’s been such a joy to get to spend some time with you.” She blinks a few times, her eyes misty.
Eden reaches over and takes my hand in hers. I latch on to her, and not for the first time since meeting this woman, I open my heart and my mouth, letting the words flow freely.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her. I take a deep breath and keep going before I lose my nerve. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me over the years. You saved me. I wouldn’t be where I am in life, in my career, none of it, without you,” I ramble.
“Foster,” Hope says, her voice cracking. Nathan wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close. “You were our greatest gift. We were never able to have biological children. You made us parents.” She smiles, losing her battle as a tear slides down her cheek. “Please don’t think that comes with expectations. You set boundaries, and we’re more than happy to follow them, but know that in our hearts, you’re our son.”