Page 43 of Tiny Precious Secrets (The Brothers of Calloway Creek The Montanas #4)

Asher

Allie tugs on my shirt, pulling me back behind the school concession stand. “She’ll see you.”

I’m more than a little surprised she even wanted to come with me considering what day it is.

Today would have been Christopher’s tenth birthday.

I know she knows it. She’s been quieter than normal.

More introspective. And she’s spent most of the day by herself.

But now she’s here. For my daughter. God, how I love this woman.

I take a step behind the small building and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. “Looks like she’s up next for the free kick.”

“She’s doing great. Much better than I anticipated after Christian alluded to her ‘sucking but not sucking as much as some of the other girls’.”

“Alluded?” I raise a brow.

“Well, not so much alluded as told me outright.”

I peek out. “He thinks she sucks? That’s a shitty thing to say.”

“He didn’t say it to her. I flat out asked him if she was any good. He said she ‘doesn’t totally suck’ and is probably decent enough to make the team. But he said it in the nicest way possible.”

A shout comes from across the field. “Yes! Way to go, Bug!”

I look over to see that Darla has made her first free kick and Christian is celebrating. I watch intently as she makes two of the next four attempts. Christian celebrates each successful kick. I turn to Allie. “Why am I so goddamn jealous of a thirteen-year-old boy right now?”

“Because you want to be the one down there cheering for her.”

“How is she okay having him there but not me?”

“She probably thinks you’ll embarrass her.”

I motion to Christian. “More than that?”

“Friends cheering on friends is different than a parent cheering for a child.”

I shake my head. “I don’t care what she says. If she makes the team, I’ll be at every game.”

Allie squeezes my arm. “I will be too. Do you know when they’ll post the results?”

“Not for a few days. I hope she’s okay and doesn’t get depressed like she was last week. Do you think that was soccer related, or school related? I could barely get her to respond to my texts let alone talk to me on the phone.”

She draws in a long breath and lets it slip out between her lips. “I’m going to break the girl code here because as her dad you should know.”

I’m not sure I like the sound of that. “Ah, shit. Is she dating? Is there a boy I need to be worried about?” I brace myself for unwanted news. “Is it Christian?”

“Nothing like that. Bug had her very first period last week when you were gone.”

My eyes snap to hers. “What do you mean her very first period?”

“I mean, she’d never had one before.” Her eyes narrow. “How do you not know this being as involved in her life as you’ve been? Don’t you think she’d be asking you to buy products if she’d been having her period?”

I scrub a hand across my jaw. “I guess I just assumed she was using her allowance to get that stuff. And Marti said she took care of ‘the talk’ a long time ago.”

“Yeah, about five years ago. I’m sure at that age it went in one ear and out the other.”

My eyebrows meet in the middle. “Shouldn’t this have happened long before now?”

“It did for me, but I looked it up, it’s perfectly normal. But she wasn’t prepared and was pretty embarrassed.”

“She shouldn’t be.”

“It’s not unusual. She’ll get used to it soon enough. But don’t be surprised if she asks to go on birth control.”

My jaw drops so low it almost hits my belt. “I know you didn’t just suggest putting my thirteen-year-old on the pill. Jesus, Al.”

“To control her period.” Her eyes roll. “Being on the pill makes it more predictable, which is super important for teenagers who are planning trips to the pool and sleepovers.”

“But… it’s like giving her permission to…” I can’t even say the words.

“Calm down.” She touches my shoulder. “This is something every parent of girls needs to deal with sooner or later. I’m not saying do it now. I’m just saying it’s probably going to come up and I wanted you to be prepared.”

I sink against the wall of the concession stand. “I’m not sure if I should be happy she wasn’t reconsidering her choice to attend school, or sad that my little girl is growing up.”

Allie chuckles. “I think you’re allowed both.” She runs a hand across her belly. “And oh joy, we get to do it all over again when this little girl hits puberty.”

Christian’s cheers hit my ears again and I look out once more.

But when my eyes land on Darla dribbling the ball across the field, it’s like I’m seeing her in a whole new light.

I’m not sure why, because I assumed she’d been having her period for some time now.

But my daughter, my little Bug, has somehow just grown up right before my eyes.

“We should go.” I tug on Allie’s hand. “It looks like they’re wrapping up and we don’t want to get caught.”

Back at the car, I sit in the driver’s seat, still feeling as if my head is spinning, when something occurs to me. I look over at Allie. “How did you know? Wait… did she tell you?”

Before I can get too excited about Darla sharing that monumental moment with Allie, she says, “I was there when it happened. There was a little blood. I gave her some supplies and washed her clothes. I’m not sure I’d have known otherwise.”

Those last few words have her looking sad.

It kills me that we’ve been living together as a family for months now but Bug isn’t treating her much differently.

It’s true, she isn’t getting in the digs she used to…

at least I don’t think so. But who knows what goes on between them when I’m not around.

I put a hand on her thigh. “I’d hoped that my time away would somehow bring the two of you closer together.”

She shrugs. “We’re making a little progress. Baby steps are better than no steps at all.”

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a granola bar, munching on it on the way home. I smile when she hiccups a few times after. She’s so darn cute when she hiccups. By the time we’re pulling into the garage, she’s laughing.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Baby girl has the hiccups.”

She takes my hand and sets it low on her belly where I feel incremental little jerks. “Does he get them too?”

“Sometimes. Not as much as she does.”

I look into her eyes. “I hope she’s just like you. Beautiful. Fun. Kind.”

She smiles, the gleam of a tear in her eye. “And I hope he’s just like you. Charming and thoughtful.”

I open my door and race around to help her out. I lower my lips to within an inch of hers. “Come inside. I have something to show you.”

She lowers her gaze to my pants. “I’ve seen it, Asher. Quite a lot.” I know she’s making a joke, but her smile fades. “And as glorious as it may be, I just don’t think I’m in the mood for it today.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be, considering the date. I have something else in mind.”

She narrows her eyes but allows me to help her up and take her inside. When she sees the birthday cake with ten candles on top, a hand flies up to cover her gasp. “Asher.”

“I know it’s a bit unconventional. But you’ll be an Anderson soon if I have anything to say about it. And Andersons celebrate all birthdays, even heavenly ones. It’s tradition. One I’m sure you heard about from Marti, or maybe Dallas.”

She nods. “I had, but I’d completely forgotten.” She touches each of the ten candles, one at a time.

“I’m sorry we don’t have a picture of Christopher, but you can still light the candles and remember what it was like to hold and love him. You can say a few things about who he would have been.”

“I can’t believe you remembered the date.”

“Babe, when are you going to get it through that pretty little head of yours that I hang onto your every word?” I gesture to the lighter next to the cake. “Can you do the honors?”

Carefully, and with tears pooling in her eyes, she lights each of the candles.

“I do have pictures. I never showed Jason. He didn’t have the right or privilege to know even a little piece of Christopher.” She turns to me with red-rimmed eyes. “Do you want to see them?”

“I’d be honored, sweetheart.”

She scrolls through her phone and hands it to me.

What I see almost wrecks me. A young, beautiful, devastated Allie is holding what looks to be a totally healthy baby.

She isn’t looking at whoever’s snapping the photo.

She’s looking down at her son. The love in her eyes practically jumps through the phone and pierces my heart.

I know right here and now what an amazing mother she’s going to be to our children.

She scrolls to the next photo of Christopher in his hospital bassinet, sleeping peacefully.

There’s another with Sarah. In the last photo of Allie and the baby, she’s in a rocking chair holding him against her chest. A flexible tube snakes over her shoulder and is pointed at his face.

Oxygen, I presume. His skin is much more ashen than in the other photos.

This one must be shortly before he died.

“Does it hurt to look at these?” I ask.

“I look at them almost every day.”

“Does it ever get any better?”

“Are you asking me if time heals all wounds?”

I shrug.

“I’ve always hated that saying.” She scrolls back to the first picture.

I think it’s her favorite. “Time doesn’t heal all wounds.

Just ask Addy. It’s not like her leg grew back after a time.

And ask Marti and Dallas and Serenity and anyone else who’s lost something this significant.

I think they should change the saying to ‘time deals with all wounds.’ That would be more accurate.

Because the hole in my heart left by him will never be healed.

There’s a big ugly scar in its place. And sure, when the babies come, I’ll be happy, and maybe I won’t even look at these pictures every day.

But that won’t mean I’m missing him less.

It won’t mean I still don’t dream about the kind of boy he would have been or the man he’d have grown up to be.

Christopher will always be my first child.

When the twins come, I’ll be the mother of three.

One of them just happens to be in heaven.

So, yeah, time may be helping me deal with his loss in healthier ways, but it will sure as hell never heal me. ”

“Wow. That’s… existential.”

She laughs sadly and puts her phone away.

“Tell me about the kind of person Christopher would have been.”

“He’d have been like you.” She threads our fingers together.

“Caring. Protective. Loving. He’d have loved chocolate—that I’m sure of considering how much of it I ate when I was pregnant with him.

He’d love playgrounds, especially swings, and he’d swing so high I’d get scared he would fly off.

But he never would because he’d hold on tight and say ‘Don’t worry, Mommy’ .

” Tears make her eyes sparkle. “He’d have been very smart.

But the one thing I’m sure of is that he’d have done something important and altruistic with his life, like become a doctor or firefighter. ”

“Sounds like someone I’d want to know.”

She nods, and lets the tears roll down the sides of her face. I kiss them, wanting to absorb all her pain. Needing to be the one who helps her deal with it. Work her way through it. Live with it in a way that brings her peace.

“Thank you,” I whisper into her hair.

“For what?”

“For trusting me with who he was and who he would have been.”

She leans up and kisses my cheek. “Help me blow out the candles?”

“On three,” I say.

We blow, then I get two forks, handing her one before I dig in, shoving a gigantic bite in my mouth. Her eyes bulge at my lack of manners. After all, I didn’t even cut the cake.

She turns up her nose. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

I chuckle. “I’m guessing you missed the part of the tradition where we have to eat the cake.”

“Oh, okay.” She takes a dainty little bite and puts the fork down.

“No, no, no.” I pick it back up and hand it to her. “The whole cake.”