It was a good shot of Blake, in full windup. But what she loved about the picture wasn’t the pose; it was his expression.
Focused. Fierce. Alive.
And just like that her heart seized, and she looked away, closing her eyes, holding back tears.
Remembering how she’d begged God to give him back. Remembering all the things she’d offered in exchange for one more chance to speak to him. One more chance to hold him. One more chance to tuck him in, tell him good night.
“I don’t think I could handle it,” Chris said bluntly, breaking the silence. “Not if it’d been my son.”
Lauren walked to the bed, touched the thick, quilted bedspread. “I don’t know that I have handled it. I’ve run away . . . ignored it . . . denied it . . .”
“You did what you had to do.”
“It about killed me. Worst, hardest thing I’ve ever done. And it’s not over yet.”
Chris’s mouth compressed. “It might not ever be over, darlin’.”
She nodded, agreeing with him. At least he didn’t sound as if he was condemning her. So many people wanted to rush grief. They wanted the uncomfortable part over. “I honestly didn’t think I’d survive the pain. But it’s been a year, and I’m still here.”
Her fingers brushed across the quilt again, feeling the stitches and seams.
Good night, buddy.
Good night, Mama.
Sleep good, baby boy.
You, too, Mama.
And then the kisses, and the thin arms wrapping around her neck, squeezing tight. He kissed her good night every night until he died. Not on the lips, of course. He stopped doing that in third grade, but on the cheek, or the top of her head once he was sixteen as he took off to join friends somewhere.
Be careful, Blake.
I’m always careful, Mom.
I mean it, Blake.
I know you do, Mom.
I couldn’t stand it if anything ever happened—
Easy, Drama Mom. Nothing’s going to happen . . .
“Lauren?”
Chris said her name gently, but she jumped even so, having forgotten he was there. She looked at him, eyes wide.
“Do you want to stay here tonight?” he asked.
Lauren glanced around the room, tears filling her eyes at the thought of leaving, but there was no way she could stay. It was still too much. The room felt like Blake and made her want him, need him. She wiped her eyes. “No. Let’s go.”
They stepped out, and she turned off the light and headed to the front door, but then Lauren held up her hand, asked Chris to wait, and she ran back to Blake’s room and grabbed his leather glove from the pillow on his bed.
She returned to Chris, the glove pressed to her chest. “Maybe I’ll just take this. You don’t think he’d mind if I borrowed it, do you?”
Chris pulled her to him and held her close, the glove between them. He kissed her forehead, and then her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth, before finally kissing her sweetly, gently on the lips. “I don’t think he’d mind at all,” he whispered. “In fact, he’s probably very glad.”
Eighteen
Sarah glanced at the calendar as she paid her bills online. Hard to believe they’d been in the East Bay a month now.
June had come and gone. As had the Fourth of July. Boone had been home for the Fourth, with a game at the Coliseum, and then there had been a break for the All-Star Game, which had been held this year at Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City.
Boone hadn’t played in an All-Star Game for four years, but Sarah was glad to have him home for those days, and discovering that the house in Capitola was free, they headed as a family to the beach for three nights.
It felt like a real vacation. And they felt like a real family. A normal family. During the day they soaked up the sun, and then at night, sunburned and exhausted from all the playing, everyone slept well.
Sarah had loved watching Boone with the kids on the beach, building sand castles with Ella and jumping waves with Brennan. Sarah lounged on her towel, working on her tan, a wine cooler in the plastic cup beside her.
Boone had teased her about drinking early, but then reaped the benefits when they had torrid sex in the master bedroom while the kids ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and colored at the dining room table.
But then, the entire trip to Capitola was filled with quickies and make-out sessions. On Wednesday they had sex so many times that Sarah stopped counting her orgasms after five, aware that she was just being greedy.
But God, it’d felt good to be with him, and love him, and hug him, and play with him. Boone was her best friend and this little break had been exactly what she needed . . . a chance to relax, escape the stress of moving and adjusting to a new city and new team.
Boone had enjoyed the trip to Capitola, too.