Page 19 of Catching Our Moment

Shaw

I walked back to my side of the house reluctantly. Everything in me wanted to follow her and finish this conversation. Because it mattered. It was what needed to be said to move forward.

But Aaron shouldn’t be within listening distance.

In my bedroom, I went to the desk drawer where I kept important items and pushed aside a small, smooth, gray river rock she’d given me when we were young.

She’d called it a worry stone. “Hold it tight and put all your worries, all your negative thoughts, negative energy, into the stone.” In high school, it gave me something to do with my hands when I fidgeted—to help me focus in my classes.

When I was older, it helped me settle down when I got nervous.

It was my lodestone, my lucky rabbit’s foot.

It was a damn rock, but it was my last connection to her.

All these years, it had traveled with me and stayed in my pocket with my keys and wallet, always a topic of interest to those around me, but never explained.

From under it, I pulled out a dog-eared envelope.

It had been folded and refolded, was smooth from years of wear, and was also kept close to me but never saw the light of day around anyone.

Inside was a piece of hotel stationery. The same hotel I stayed in the night of the draft. The best and worst night of my life.

I held the envelope and sat on the edge of my bed.

Draft night had started out with her next to me, holding my hand as we walked backstage with her father, my mother, and my agent.

She had been beautiful in the dress we’d bought together to hide her newly developed baby bump.

We’d been talking about the future, about me being there for her and the baby.

We were waiting to see what team I’d be drafted to before making any definite plans.

But I’d thought she’d shared my happiness.

I’d thought the promise of a future with me had quelled her concerns.

I’d thought the building chemistry was seeping through.

I’d allowed myself to let in the feelings—the thoughts and desires—I’d refused to recognize before.

I’d thought it was the beginning of the rest of our lives.

I’d thought wrong.

I’d planned to kiss her later that night, not like a friend, not as a joke. I was going to take her beautiful face in both my hands and kiss her the way I’d dreamed of kissing her. I was going to make this real.

The most defining moment of my life was when they announced my name in the draft.

I’d never felt so high. Never felt like the world was at my feet.

She was in the wings, and my future was in front of me.

The people around me cheered. I hugged my mom and shook my agent’s hand, and Kelcie’s father offered his proud congratulations.

The television cameras were waiting for me to walk out on the stage and hold up my new jersey with my new team.

But before I walked into the spotlight, I enveloped her in our hug—her against my chest and my hand on her head, my head bowed to hers.

I kissed her cheek—not wanting our first kiss to be on national television—and whispered, “Thank you. Our future starts now. This. Us. We got this.” I’d squeezed her hand, smiled at her with all my love, and kissed the top of her hand, hoping she felt everything I wanted to say.

Then I walked away, stepped onto the stage, and entered a new way of life.

But the past was where she’d stayed.

When I came back, she was gone.

Her father claimed she was nauseated and went back to the hotel.

He encouraged me to take in the entire experience, telling me that Kelcie would want me to enjoy every minute.

I called her, texted her, and was about to head back to the hotel to find her a few times, but was caught up with interviews and meeting people.

Eventually, I got a short text saying how proud she was of me but that she was going to bed, and I should enjoy myself.

The next day, I found the now dog-eared envelope slipped under my door—the one I’d carried around for the last twelve years.

This fucking “Dear Shaw” note said nothing except that James had shown up and wanted to marry her.

She was proud of me and wanted me to be happy, not tied down with her.

It said that she was doing what was best for both of us.

Finally, she told me she loved me and couldn’t wait to see me reach all of my dreams.

If she loved me, she wouldn’t have left.

If she loved me the way I loved her, she wouldn’t have left.

But the envelope…I couldn’t throw it away. It was like a scar that hadn’t faded or smoothed out. It reminded me of the hit I took and never quite recovered from.

If I…if we were going to try to regain the friendship we once had, I had to let this go because, like she said, it was history.

We were back in our hometown. Hell, we lived next door to each other.

But it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

We were completely different people. It had only been fourteen years, but it had seemed like almost a lifetime of growing.

Yet, she was still Kelcie, and I was still Shaw, and deep down, that connection was still there.

It still felt necessary. Her tenderness with Aaron, laughing with me, scolding both of us…

I stared at the trash can on the other side of the room and stuck it back in the drawer, placing it gently under the gray rock. I still couldn’t throw it away. And I couldn’t give headspace as to the reasons why.