by Kelsie Rae
“Hey, Grady, can I ask you a question?” I ask, resting my wrist on the top of the steering wheel as we drive home.
“Yeah?”
“Did Miss Swenson seem sad to you today?”
He shrugs. “I dunno.”
“Can you think of anything that happened that might’ve made her feel bad?”
Another shrug. “She was fine before Turner and me….” He glances over at me, looking guilty as hell.
“Before you what? Were you two fighting again?”
“No. We just….” With his hands in his lap, he avoids my gaze.
“Tell me, Grady.”
He sighs. “We just started talking about what’s better, dads, or moms.”
“And?”
“And I said dads were better because my mom didn’t want me, and you know how to throw a football really good. And he said moms were better because his mom makes really good chocolate chip cookies and that his dad is a––” Grady’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes go wide as if he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t. Like swearing.
Trying to contain my smile, I prod, “You can tell me.”
“He said his dad is a…”––he drops his voice low––“asshole. Then Miss Swenson said that moms and dads can be good and bad. It just depends on the person and how seriously they take the reponsa-reponsa––”
“Responsibility,” I correct him.
“Yeah. Responsibility.”
“She’s right, you know,” I tell him as I pull into our driveway. “Did she say anything else?”
“Not really. Turner asked if she had any kids, and she said no. Then I asked if she’d be a good mom or a bad mom and how seriously she’d take her reponsability, and she kinda went quiet.”
With my chin to my chest, I turn off the car and pinch the bridge of my nose.
Well, shit.
“Anything else?” I mutter.
“Not really. After she went quiet, I told her that I thought she’d be a good one. Then Turner got his backpack, and I started coloring.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yup,” he answers.
“Alright. Let’s get inside.”
“Okay. Can we have lasagna for dinner?”
I laugh and ruffle the thick hair on his head. “Deal.”
9
Owen
She doesn’t message me, and I don’t push her any further until Grady is in bed, and I have more than five minutes of privacy to come up with something clever that’ll convince her to respond. Because whatever the hell happened at school today with Grady and Turner must’ve gutted her, and I want to make it right. I need to.
OD: Question. Why are there no stairs in the Death Star?
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it. Then, I stare at the stupid screen for a solid five minutes, praying she’ll be curious enough to answer me.
Buzz. Buzz.
Slytherin4ever: I don’t know. Why?
With a grin, I reply.
OD: Because everyone uses the ele-Vader.
Her response is quicker this time and manages to ease the ache in my chest.
Slytherin4ever: Yup. You’re definitely a dad.
OD: haha. Why do you say that?
Slytherin4ever: Cuz that was the dad-est of dad jokes.
OD: It got you to respond, didn’t it?
Slytherin4ever: Maybe.
OD: Did it make you smile too?
Slytherin4ever: No comment.
OD: Haha. I’ll take that as a yes. So, you never answered me earlier when I asked how your day has been. Have you found someone else to entertain you already?
Slytherin4ever: Not yet. Sorry I didn’t respond, though. It’s been a day.
I can almost hear the sadness through her message as I sit on the edge of my bed.
OD: You doing okay?
Slytherin4ever: So-so, I guess. Why do you ask?
Because I’m in love with you and want to make you feel better?
OD: Just wondering. I feel like we’re always talking about me. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, too, especially when you’ve had a “day.”
Slytherin4ever: Everyone has “days.”
OD: True. Do you wanna tell me about yours, and what made it so-so?
Slytherin4ever: It’s complicated.
I laugh.
OD: I’m an expert at complicated, remember?
Slytherin4ever: I thought we decided no details between you and me.
OD: Okay…then keep it vague and let me fill in the blanks.
Her response isn’t immediate this time around, so I push myself off the mattress and brush my teeth before climbing right back in to find a message waiting for me.
Slytherin4ever: Have you ever wanted something? Like…badly? And you work your hardest to line everything up to make it come true, but it just…doesn’t?
Football.
Duh.
But we aren’t talking about football. We’re talking about children. The ones she used to tell me about. The ones she couldn’t wait to have and raise. And because of me and my mistakes, she’s been left empty-handed.
Carefully, I reply.
OD: I’ve been there a few times. Once with football. And one other time with the girl I told you about. What’s yours? A job opportunity? A guy? A girl––if you swing that way?
Slytherin4ever: lol, no, nothing like that. I mean, yes. I’ve definitely missed out on a guy when I was younger, but that’s not really what I’m talking about this time. I came to terms with that loss the best that I could when it happened, though we’ve already discussed how messy breakups can be, ya know?
She has no idea.
But how do I convince her to open up to me?
OD: Yeah. So, not the guy you missed out on when you were younger. Maybe it’s a career opportunity, then?
Slytherin4ever: Nope. That one actually MIGHT be lining up for me if I play my cards right.
OD: Hmm…if it isn’t a career opportunity or a guy…what is it?
Slytherin4ever: Just a reminder of what I could’ve had but don’t.
OD: Come on, Say….
My eyes bug out of my head before I press send. Erasing her name, I rephrase myself, then press enter.
OD: Come on. Throw me a bone here. I wanna know.
Talk to me!
Slytherin4ever: Nope. No details. Sorry. Just…be grateful for what you have. And never take any of it, or anyone, for granted, despite whether or not they were planned. That’s all I’m gonna say.
There it is. The guilt. And the truth. All wrapped into one message.
We were going to have kids together. We’d talked about it more times than I can count, which would be weird as hell for a couple of teenagers if it weren’t for the connection Saylor and I shared.
We’d planned out our entire lives.
Then I screwed it all up and said goodbye before any of it could come to fruition.
She’s hurting because I have a little boy I adore while effectively throwing our plans in her face every time she sees Grady and me together. And she has…nothing.
This is all my fault.
Unable to help myself, I type it as fast as my fingers can fly.
OD: Let me tell you a story. I knew a girl once who found out when she was in high school that she couldn’t have kids. She was my girlfriend’s little sister. I watched her say goodbye to her future before it ever had a chance to begin. When I found out my son’s mom was pregnant, I couldn’t even be mad, even though she’d tricked me into knocking her up. Because it was a miracle. And I promised to never take a miracle for granted. Whether or not it was a convenient miracle is questionable, lol, but he’s still a miracle. Ever since I held him in my arms for the first time, I wanted to do better. I NEEDED to do better. But I’ll never take a single moment with him for granted, even though he turned my world upside down. Sometimes life doesn’t go according to plan, but that might be because we can’t always see the full picture. If I hadn’t ma
de the biggest mistake of my life and left my ex to move across the country, I never would’ve gotten a random girl pregnant, and therefore, I never would’ve had my son. And you’re right. I will NEVER take him for granted. But I’d give anything to go back and right the wrongs I made before him. I can tell you from personal experience that whoever hurt you, whoever might’ve prevented you from reaching your dreams of whatever dream you had within your grasp before it was ripped away…they’re sorry. I guarantee they’d take it back if they could. I hope that one day, you’ll look back and realize you ended up exactly where you needed to be to receive your own miracle. But one thing is certain. You deserve the world on a silver platter, Slytherin4ever. If I could give it to you, I would in a heartbeat.
As soon as I press send, a wave of anxiety pulses through me. Not only because it was the longest message I’ve ever written, but because it might’ve held too much truth, and it might make her question where my loyalty lies––with Saylor, or with Slytherin4ever.
Slytherin4ever: We can’t erase our pasts, Owen.
Her response makes me pause. Did she read anything I just wrote? I don’t want to erase our pasts. I want to use them to build a future together. But that means she needs to forgive me, and that feels impossible.
OD: Trust me, I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to fix it and make it better.
Slytherin4ever: Why?
OD: Because Saylor’s it for me.
Slytherin4ever: I thought we weren’t talking specifics.
OD: I guess it just slipped out.
Slytherin4ever: Don’t let it happen again.
OD: Why not?
Slytherin4ever: Because you hurt her, and you can’t change your pasts.
Why not? I want to scream.
Why can’t we at least let go of our pasts since we can’t change them? I want to shake her. I want to make her understand how sorry I am, how desperate I am to fix what I broke. But she won’t let me.
Why won’t she let me?
Frustrated, I try a different tactic while praying she’ll understand.
OD: You like football, right?
Slytherin4ever: What does that have to do with changing our pasts? Or…you changing your past with the girl that got away.
OD: Just answer the question.
Slytherin4ever: I used to love it.
OD: Used to?
Slytherin4ever: Kind of got tainted, I guess.
OD: Well, in football, there’s something called a Hail Mary. Ever heard of it?
I can almost see her rolling her eyes, but her response pops up a few seconds later.
Slytherin4ever: Yes, I know what a Hail Mary is.
OD: Then you know what it means. It’s a long forward pass toward the end zone as a last-ditch effort at the end of the game where the completion is unlikely.
Slytherin4ever: What’s your point, Wikipedia?
OD: My point is that even though we can’t change our pasts, I’m coming for her. I’m throwing a Hail Mary pass, and I won’t go home empty-handed.
Slytherin4ever: Why are you telling me this?
OD: Because you deserve to know that one day, someone will throw a Hail Mary your way to give you what slipped through your fingers. Be ready for it.
Slytherin4ever: It’s getting late. I should probably get some sleep.
I smile as I press send.
OD: Me too. Goodnight, Slytherin4ever.
Slytherin4ever: Night, Owen.
10
Saylor
“Don’t hate me, but I can’t make it to the meeting today,” Skye informs me, her face scrunching up in shame as we head to our cars in the parking lot on Thursday afternoon.
“Why the hell not?” I demand.
“Because Sway needs me to check on her cats while she and Anthony are away.”
“Come on, Skye, we’ll do it after––”
“Nope. Their grumpy cat is on some medication that needs to be given at the same time each evening, or he’ll be in a lot of pain and will puke up his dinner. No one wants to clean up that mess, Say. Trust me.” Her nose wrinkles as if she’s smelled something rancid. “It’ll be fine, though. I’m sure lots of other volunteers signed up.”
“But what if”––my gaze darts over to Owen’s car parked a few stalls away from us––“he shows up.”
“Then he shows up, and you face him like a big girl.”
“But––”
“You’ll be fine, Say. Besides, it might be good for you two to connect in a way that doesn’t involve fake identities.”
With a scowl, I argue, “First of all, that was your idea. And second, you don’t understand. Owen and I were talking and….” My voice trails off as I toss my bag of to-be-graded assignments into the passenger side of my car.
“And what?” she prods.
I pop my head back out of the car, close the driver’s side door, and lean my butt against it. “And he said he’s going to make a move.”
“So?”
I glare back at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s been years, Say. And he seems genuine enough, doesn’t he? What if you give him another chance?”
“You can’t be serious right now. He broke my heart, Skye!”
“And he hates himself for it. He won’t even look at Sarah in her short skirts, and I have it on good authority that she’s asked him out multiple times, and he’s always deflected.”
“And what about Taylor?”
“Taylor backed off as soon as she found out he had a kid, which is kind of ironic since she’s a school teacher and all. But that’s beside the point.”
“And what is your point, Skye?” I huff.
“My point is that he wants you.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do. You just said so yourself like thirty seconds ago,” she points out. “Aaand he’s been upfront about his expectations with Slytherin4ever too. Hasn’t he?”
“Well, yeah, but––”
“But nothing. I’m right. You’re wrong. The end.”
“You’re bugging me today,” I growl, but she waves me off.
“It’ll be fine. Besides, you’re just planning a Halloween party. It’s not that big of a deal. There will probably be other volunteers there too.”
“Probably isn’t a sure thing. No one has seen the volunteer sheet since the first day. Who knows where it ended up, and––”
“Stop stressing, or you’re gonna get an ulcer. You’ll be just fine, and I’ll see you at home. Deal?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not unless you wanna clean up cat vomit,” Skye counters with a smirk.
I tap my chin with my forefinger, actually considering the idea before Skye shoves me in the shoulder.
“Come on, Say. You’re being ridiculous. Go. Have fun. Take notes. We’ll talk later.”
“Fiiine,” I grudgingly agree. “I’ll see you at home.”
Rounding the front of her car, she calls out, “Good girl. Thanks for walking me out. Just remember. You’re beautiful. Smart. And so far out of his league that it’s not even funny. You got this.”
Then she gives me two thumbs up before closing the door to her car, leaving me all alone in the parking lot as another knot of dread tugs at my lower gut.
This is juuust great.
I press the lock button on my key fob, then head back to my classroom. A few random scraps of paper from today’s art project are still lying on the floor, so I pick them up before pulling out a notepad at my desk. The ideas start flowing freely a few minutes later. I lose track of time until a deep voice calls out from the doorway.
“Hey.”
My mouth forms a tiny ‘o’ as I suck in as much oxygen as my lungs can hold before I tear my gaze away from my notes and find a very sexy, very sheepish Owen staring back at me. Why does he have to look so good in a pair of dark jeans and a Henley?
When I catch myself staring, I clear my throat and squeak, “Hey.”
/> “Mind if I join you?”
“Uh, take a seat.” I motion to the empty room.
The metal legs from one of the far chairs scrape along the floor as he drags it over to my desk, then sits down across from me.
“Are we waiting on anyone else?” he asks, taking in the empty room.
“No idea. The sign-up form went missing earlier this week, so….”
“Oh. That…sucks?” he offers.
I laugh. “I would’ve been surprised if anyone signed up. It’s not like we don’t already have plenty on our plates during the holidays without adding another party into the mix. It’s not even my job to plan this thing, but apparently, Artie wants to see how I handle it.”