Season of Change(108)

                “It was fun to see your young, smiling mug.” Flynn broke the silence first. “You were five years ahead of me in school. Back then, I looked up to you. Star athlete. Valedictorian. Scholarship winner.”

                “None of that mattered when...” Slade smoothed his tie.

                “Your parents loved you, man. Your dad may not have had it together at the end, but he loved you.” Flynn put a hand on Slade’s shoulder. “Let him go. Let the bad stuff go and hold the good memories where you should.” He tapped his chest with his other hand.

                “And if I can’t?”

                “You can’t? That’s a first.” Flynn stood, laughing, and then stared at him hard. “You don’t remember, do you?”

                Slade shook his head.

                “Will and I were home visiting once. We were out on the patio at El Rosal, trying to figure out some impossibly unrealistic budget for the business so we could generate venture capital, when you sauntered by.” Flynn fiddled with his ball cap. “I said something like, ‘I can’t do it,’ and you stopped. You turned your head and flat-out told me, ‘Can’t just means you won’t.’” Flynn shook his head. “Will invited you for a drink. In a week, you’d worked out our finances, pitched our idea to several venture capitalists, got us funding for the app, and moved into our apartment. Can’t.” He chuckled. “You were older than I was in school and you used to intimidate me. But that...that was the start of a beautiful partnership.”

                “I didn’t get us much funding.”

                “Enough to pay for rent and an internet connection. It was enough, buddy. And you know what? Every time I look at some code and think I can’t do it, I remember you saying what that meant. I won’t doesn’t get you to the place we are today. I won’t doesn’t clear out cobwebs or put the past to rest.”

                I can’t kiss Christine.

                How many times had Slade told himself that? The distance he kept between the two of them, which, granted, wasn’t as much as it should have been, was like a sharp pain in his chest. The pain only eased when he was with her.

                I can’t date Christine.

                She deserved better. He wouldn’t allow her into the mess that was his scarred life. It didn’t matter that she seemed willing to try, to meet him halfway—more than halfway when you considered the baggage he had to carry into a relationship.

                Whenever times got tough, she’d wonder if he’d disappear and try to kill himself. Evy had told him that over and over again. Evy had told the judge and the lawyers that she couldn’t trust him with their children because of that one moment of weakness. It had taken eight years of stability and success for the legal system to recognize that Slade was worth gambling on. He hadn’t even known Christine eight weeks.

                I can’t love Christine.

                Flynn was right. He was choosing not to explore the strong feelings from his past and stronger desires he had toward Christine. But it didn’t matter if he said I can’t or I won’t.

                It was better this way. For both of them.

                * * *

                “IS SOMEONE COMING to dinner?” When Christine got home from work, food covered her grandmother’s pink kitchen counter. Tuna casserole. Corn-bread muffins. Steamed vegetables. Chocolate cake.

                “We’re bringing dinner over to Hiro Takata’s house. It’s community pot luck.” Nana glanced at Christine’s dirt-smeared shorts and tattered T-shirt. “I’ll give you five minutes to wash up and change.”