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“Yeah, it was awful. Dylan cried and screamed, and the game had begun so I couldn’t reach Scott. He thinks she planned it that way on purpose, but I can’t imagine anyone...” Abby shook her head, words failing her. “Dylan is her son. How could she do such a thing?”
Gen pressed herself into Abby’s legs and she reached down to scratch the dog’s ears. The soothing action grounded her, brought her back to the present, back to Cara, sitting on the bar stool beside her at the coffee shop.
Abby pressed cool fingers to her hot cheeks, fear and anger shooting new adrenaline into her system, though it had been three days since Scott’s ex-wife had ambushed her home, stolen Dylan, and sent Scott into a tailspin.
He’d called her Sunday night, late, to let her know he’d found Dylan home and safe, but nothing more. She’d waited, giving him space through Monday and Tuesday, hoping he’d call again and trying not to let the fact that he hadn’t sting. Wednesday morning, she’d called Cara.
“And you haven’t talked to him since?”
Abby shook her head. “I want to check in, but I don’t even know if they want to hear from me. I mean, I lost his kid, for heaven’s sake. If I were him, I’d be furious. I’d never want to talk to me again.”
“You can’t possibly think he blames you for this.”
Abby looped her finger in circles on the countertop, tracing the ring of spilled coffee from her cup. “I don’t know.”
Cara didn’t speak for a long moment. “Well, look on the bright side, here you were, so afraid this relationship would be full of drama from him being a football player, and it turns out all the drama is the regular kind: a messy divorce, an ex-wife, and a poor kid caught in the middle.”
“Cara!”
“Or maybe our perspective of parenting is skewed, spending all our time with parents who would give anything for their child to be healthy again, or to save their life. Maybe we have no idea whatrealparents are like.”
“Oh, my God, Cara, you’re horrible. Scott is an amazing father...”
The corner of Cara’s mouth ticked upwards, and Abby huffed. “I hate when you do that.”
“Maybe if it didn’t work so well, I’d stop, but you’re always more honest when you’re pissed.”
Abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny Cara’s observation. Her view of parents could very well be skewed by her experiences at the hospital. Certainly, her own parents had struggled to find common ground with her since Will’s death. Maybe as an adult in her own right, it made sense for them to keep their distance, especially since they couldn’t understand the all-consuming nature of her grief, but it still felt like she’d been abandoned when she needed them most.
Abby dragged her thoughts back to her conversation with Cara. “Speaking of, I had an epiphany this week.”
“About being pissed?”
“Forget pissed; I was absolutely furious when she took Dylan. I should have done more to protect him, somehow... No, I realized I wouldn’t have been so angry if I didn’t care so much about him, about what happened to him. I ran it back through my head a million times Sunday night, what I could have said or done differently. If I could have stopped it or at least made it not so awful. If I could have done something for Dylan, reassured him... He didn’t deserve to go through that. Scott didn’t deserve to get off the field and then have to jump right into the worst-case scenario for his son. I’m so mad for them.”
“You care about them.” Not a question, but a statement.
“I love them.” She’d said it to Scott, but she hadn’t said it to anyone else, yet.
Plain and true, the words came with ease, not fighting past a lump in her throat, or stinging her eyes with a phantom sense of betrayal.
“Wow.” Cara’s eyes widened.
What kind of comment would she make? It’d be like her friend to snort and then ask if it had hurt to say out loud, or to remind Abby with an I-told-you-so she’d been in favor of Scott all along.
Instead, she asked the question Abby had been turning over in her mind all week. “So then, what now?”
Abby grabbed a napkin and swiped it over the counter, clearing the spilled coffee, then crumpling it and tossing it into a trashcan. She spun on her stool and leaned an elbow on the long counter. “I think, now I fight for them. If Scott’s changed his mind, then that’s one thing, but if he hasn’t, if he still wants me in their lives, then I’m ready, and whatever comes, we’ll weather it together.”
Gen pricked her ears, and her tail swiped across the floor, as if to agree.
Twenty-Two
DESPITE HER RESOLVE to fight for them, Abby wavered between calling and giving Scott space. At least he’d texted her again on Wednesday night, but by Friday, the lack of meaningful contact began wearing on her. She worried that even as she’d committed completely to them, he’d changed his mind, but she still had enough residual anger left over from the previous weekend she convinced herself he at least owed it to her to say it to her face.
Gen leaned against her leg and rested her chin on Abby’s knee, then thumped her tail against the floor. She clearly missed her best friend.
“Yeah, I know. Quit worrying and call them, right?”