Twenty-Seven

THEY WON IN overtime on Sunday. Tied at three at the end of regulation, the Raptors pulled out a miraculous touchdown on the back of a solid offensive line, who held the pocket, even as a blitz pushed through to Scott.

Abby, hanging out with Dylan at Scott’s house, hadn’t even processed the play before Dylan leapt out of his seat and danced around the room.

Lauren, making dinner, poked her head through the door. “They won?”

Dylan, jumping up and down and clapping his hands, nodded. “Yep, they’re nine and four.”

Abby did the math, then shook her head. “Easy, Dylan, they’re in the hunt, for sure, but they’d be seeded pretty low right now, and if the Rams win, that’ll set the Raptors back into a wildcard spot.”

Dylan wrinkled his nose at her. “The Rams are playing in Kansas City tonight.”

“Still...” Abby knew better than to count her chickens before they hatched – or her points before they were on the board. She’d been a football fan longer than Dylan had been alive.

“Are you staying? Please stay?” No longer flailing around the room, Gen leaned into Dylan’s legs, and he knelt to wrap his arms around her.

“For dinner, yeah, but then I have to get going. Your dad won’t get home until tomorrow morning, anyway.” Although the chance to talk to Scott, to learn how the hearing had gone, to celebrate the win tempted her to stay, she couldn’t justify the risk of an overnight, even if he wasn’t there.

He’d call her tomorrow morning, so she’d have to be patient. Besides, Dylan had school in the morning, and if she didn’t go home, he’d want to stay up late playing with Gen.

Speaking to the guardian had put Abby on her guard; every choice she made had the potential to reverberate through Dylan’s life. She couldn’t be responsible for anything that might strip Scott of his parental rights.

His face fell. Would every choice they made hurt Dylan, no matter how hard they tried?

Would it be better for him to be tired but happy in the morning?

Or should she stick to the rules, even if it did impact Dylan’s mood?

She didn’t have a good answer and couldn’t make the call without Scott’s input.

“Sorry, kiddo. Them’s the breaks.”

He pulled Gen closer. “Okay, I guess. But can I go to the hospital with you later this week? I miss Ethan and Liam.”

“You know Liam can’t play, right? He shouldn’t even have a lot of visitors.”

“I’ll wear a mask, and gloves, too, if you want,” Dylan pleaded. “Please? I haven’t seen them in so long.”

Abby sighed, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll talk to your dad. Maybe Thursday, if you don’t have too much homework.”

Dylan gave her a radiant smile, then, true to form, jumped to his feet, pulling at Gen’s collar. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

Instead of calling, Scott came by the house in the morning, a rare, mid-season, half-day off.

Coffee and bagels in hand, but dark marks beneath eyes still shot through with red from too short a night, Abby appreciated he wanted to spend time with her more than stay home and sleep, but her stomach knotted.

“C’mon, let’s go for a walk.” Abby leashed Gen and grabbed her light jacket, necessary now that the weather had finally cooled down.

The fall wind rattled through the last remaining dead leaves in the white oak trees, acorns raining down like pebbles, and the dry, loamy, spicy scent of the decaying foliage fought with the rich aroma of her coffee.

Palm fronds littered the sidewalk, and Gen grabbed one in her mouth, parading ahead of them while they walked.

Laughing, Abby soon stopped telling her to drop it , as she’d simply pick up the next one she came across.

“I shouldn’t have let her get to me. I’m pretty sure that’s what she wanted, anyway. And Mark is worried showing my temper, well, between that and the football, it’s ridiculous, but he thinks the judge might see me as too aggressive.”

Scott had already filled her in on what had happened during the latest hearing, and as he processed the last several days, their arms brushed occasionally.

“But the guardian spent a whole day with you and Dylan,” Abby said. “She has to have told him you’re, like, the best dad ever.”

He pulled her into his side, planting a kiss on her temple before releasing her again. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

He stared into the distance, quiet and distracted, and Abby, hoping to cheer him up, curled her fingers in his. Juggling her coffee and Gen’s leash in her other hand, she snatched sips between the dog’s zig-zags across the sidewalk. “But, hey, you won yesterday.”

Scott frowned. “I didn’t even score a single point all game.” He blew out a breath. “It’s exhausting, worrying about Dylan all the time, still having to play. I thought I could compartmentalize better than this.”

Abby had nothing to say. She couldn’t imagine the pressure Scott faced.

Like lightning, the obvious solution to Scott’s problem struck her.

“Hey, if it would help, I could, you know...” She trailed off. “I mean, if I’m such a part of the problem...”

She didn’t want to say the words. Didn’t want to admit the reality that something as simple as stepping out of his life might make all the difference, at least for him and Dylan.

“No.” He squeezed her hand, then tucked it against his chest. “No, I don’t want that.

Anyone with an ounce of sense is going to know you are nothing but good for Dylan.

This is the stupidest circus, but I have to believe the judge is going to see through Lindsay’s shenanigans.

She’s going to get tired of fighting, or of paying, or of flying down here for hearings.

She’s going to get sick of Dylan and remember why she doesn’t want to be his mother, anyway.

The season will end, and I won’t be burning the candle at both ends. ..”

His voice trailed off raggedly.

Did he believe any of his words, or was he trying to convince himself as much as her?

“Please,” he finished, stopping and turning her toward him. “Don’t give up on me. Not yet.”

“Okay.” Abby pressed herself close to him, burrowing her nose into his collar, where the sharp odor of his aftershave permeated the fabric.

Breaking apart, Abby stumbled, then grabbed Scott’s sleeve for balance. Gen, trying to move into position beside Abby when they’d stopped, had gone around Scott to do it. Now, the leash looped around their calves, tangling them together.

Laughing, Abby tried to free herself, but she couldn’t slip the leash off over her cup of coffee, and if she let go of Scott, she’d fall.

“Here,” Scott took her drink, freeing her hand to shake off the leash.

Dropping it, Abby wiggled an ankle until it loosened enough for her to step out and pick it up again. Taking her coffee back, she sloshed it for a second and, deciding she’d had enough, tossed the rest into a garbage can. Then, linking her fingers in his again, she leaned into his side.

“So, Dylan asked to go to the hospital with me this week. I said I’d ask you. He says he misses Ethan and Liam, but Liam... He’s not doing well. I’m not sure you want Dylan to see him like this.” She paused. “Maybe he and Ethan could play in the atrium while I visit Liam with Gen.”

Scott’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t know. Things are so unsettled right now for him...”

Abby nodded. “I had the same thought yesterday. Everything we do has the potential to mean much more than an off day for him.”

“Maybe when things are less...”

“Fraught? Yeah, okay.” She frowned. “He’s going to be disappointed. I can’t win either way, these days.”

Scott squeezed her hand. “We’ll tell him tonight. Together. We’ll explain it so he understands. I won’t make you be the bad guy.”

She smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

Not long after Scott arrived home his phone pinged with a new message.

Swiping open the note from Jesse in PR, he read, Good job. Maybe send this to your lawyer.

He clicked on the attachment—a screenshot taken from Instagram. A picture of him and Abby at the park that morning, Gen’s leash wrapped around their legs, Abby’s head back, staring up at him with adoring eyes, him smiling down at her.

Whoever the photographer had been, they had tagged it #relationshipgoals . Laughing, Scott saved the picture, then forwarded the email to Mark.