by Celeste, B.
I grumble, “You better.”
Chapter Five
Ollie
The boys running laps around the gym are laughing and shoving each other as they finish their warmups before practice. I look at the watch on my wrist before blowing the whistle and waving them all over to where I stand in the middle of the court.
“Bring it in, everyone.” A few of them hound each other as they settle in a circle around me. “Our first game is right around the corner, so we need to work hard the next few practices. Sage, you good to start center?”
One of the other players, Pat, instantly protests. “Come on, Coach. It’s bullshit that you’re keeping me out.”
My brows arch. “You elbowed your own teammate in the face to get the ball. That’s not how we do things around here and you know it. You’re sitting out whether you like it or not.”
He grumbles but doesn’t argue.
Sage smiles. “I’m set, Coach James.”
After going over everyone else’s positions, we split off and begin practice. I don’t miss the daggers Pat shoots my way but ignore him and do my job. I’m lucky this year, the junior varsity team can easily win if they set their minds to it. They just need to listen to me—something Pat likes to avoid doing. My bet is that it’s a show for his friends who are also on the team. He’s a good kid when he’s not around other people. Maybe a little angry at the world, but I’ve been in his shoes before.
Halfway into practice, I tell them to take a break and grab some water. Sage and Pat are off to the side bickering, causing me to sigh and walk over before something starts.
“Problem?” I ask.
Sage looks down, Pat turns to me. “Not at all, Coach. I was just giving Sage some pointers. He was a little slow out there.”
“Isn’t that up for me to decide?”
Pat’s cheeks color.
Sage clears his throat, grabbing his water and taking a swig before meeting my eyes. “He was just helping me out. There isn’t a problem. Really.”
The smile on his face is convincing enough that I let it go, but it doesn’t mean I believe him fully. I know Sage and Pat hang out once in a while, but their friendship reminds me a lot like the one me and Everett had with Peter York back in high school. Basketball became competitive and we all wanted a certain place on the team. York was, and probably still is, a cocky son of a bitch who’d do anything to get what he wanted. And if or when he didn’t, he lashed out.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Patrick, can I speak to you alone for a second?”
Sage’s eyes widen before he quietly walks over to where some of the other guys are. Lingering gazes find their way over to us as I turn Patrick and myself away from their curious stares.
One hand on his shoulder, I speak quietly enough for only him to hear me. “I know how much you love this sport, but that’s no reason to intimidate your teammate. I’ve been exactly where you are, kid. Worked my ass off to earn captain by the time I graduated. It got me some shit from the others. Sage doesn’t deserve that just because you made a mistake.”
“Coach—”
“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”
“Sort of. Yeah.”
My head bobs. “Then act like it. You only have to sit out for one game, Pat. All I ask is that you don’t act out and your spot will remain yours. Nobody else on that court needs to be treated like shit because you’re upset. Get me?”
His sigh is heavy. “You were really captain of your high school team?”
That makes me smirk. “Sure was. Our team won every game but one that season.”
Pat looks impressed, and the devious glint in his eyes tells me he’s up to no good. “Think you still got it?”
Chuckling, I give him a loose shrug. “I suppose I have something left in me.”
Pat shifts, his gaze challenging. “How about you prove it to us? The rest of practice can be you schooling us on how it’s done.”
I should not agree to this.
“You’re on, kid.”
Chapter Six
Charlie
The gray-haired doctor bounces Milo on his lap and pats his back before glancing up at Ollie and I seated by the door.
“Are you all right, Mr. James?” Dr. Woodshed eyes the way Ollie winces as he moves on the hard chair.
I giggle. “Mr. James thought he could go against the JV basketball team he’s coaching like he’s a teenager again. They kicked his butt.”
Woodshed chuckles. “It doesn’t take much, does it?”
Ollie shakes his head. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d warmed up like they did. I’m pretty sure I tweaked something in my back.”
I frown, finding his hand. “Want me to see if I can find you some Motrin?”
Woodshed pipes in. “If you have any muscle relaxers, they’d work better. It may knock you out though. They’re known to do that.”
A hand waves him in dismissal. “Nah. It’s probably better this way. Reminds me that I’m not as limber as I used to be.”
For some reason, my body comes to life over the innocent remark. He must know it too, because his knee knocks mine as a soft heat takes over my cheeks. I’m not sure what’s been going on with me lately, but it’s definitely sparked our sex life up. Not that it was lacking before.
I clear my throat. “So, what’s next?”
It’s been almost a month since we last spoke. Our insurance didn’t clear the surgery, but it wouldn’t stop us. We have the money, even though Ollie has been hesitant to use it. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, the trust fund that his father left for him is his to do what he wants with. I think he feels guilty using money he didn’t earn, but with insurance denying us, our options are limited. It’s almost thirty thousand dollars for an implant. Milo needs two.
Other than the minor setback with insurance, we’ve read up on everything there is to know about the cochlear implant. Between pamphlets, books, and websites that are Woodshed approved, we’ve prepared ourselves for the journey. Late nights reading in bed and early mornings at breakfast scanning papers has taught us what to look forward to.
Milo will hear.
Our voices.
Music.
Life.
It makes me teary just thinking about it.
Woodshed stands up and passes Milo to me, where I hold him close to my chest. He takes a seat back on the rolling stool across from us. “I would like to get an outpatient surgery scheduled for the little guy. We’ve discussed by now that the sooner a child gets an implant, the better they’ll be able to adjust and comprehend sound.”
I nod. “Eighteen months, right? You told us last time that it’s usually better to do it before they turn that—”
“I assure you, there isn’t a switch that decreases the chances with each day following that point,” Woodshed reassures with a soft smile. “It’s just a pinpoint statistic because of their development. Of course, the chances of them comprehending things will become a little more difficult if they’re older, but he’s not at that point. His records show that he’s just over fifteen months, correct?”
Ollie says, “Going on sixteen.”
Woodshed stretches out his legs and rests one ankle over the other. “I checked before our appointment and saw an opening to do the surgery in two weeks. If that works for both of you, we’ll pencil the little guy in. After surgery, the healing time will be about two to four weeks. Following that period will be the activation to get Milo’s processor adjusted properly to fit his needs.”
I nibble on the inside of my cheek, gripping Ollie’s hand with mine and tightening my arm around Milo’s tiny waist. “How will we know what he needs? He can’t talk to tell us.”
That doesn’t even touch the questions regarding speech. He makes noises like any baby but hasn’t been able to listen to us and learn the language patterns. I’m worried his communication will be limited from the start, even with getting him the surgery at a young age.
“We’ll base it on his r
eactions,” he says, patting my hand. “We’ve worked with kids around his age before. Processors can be adjusted as needed over time. There’s nothing that can stop us now. Milo is in good hands.”
Giving him my best smile, I lean forward and press my lips against Milo’s head. He reaches up and cups my cheek, then tries shoving his fingers into my mouth. Giggling, I nibble on his little hand, which causes him to smile and bounce.
“Thank you, doctor,” I find myself whispering against Milo’s head.
He nods once and rolls back. “How about we get that surgery in the books, hmm? If anything comes up and it needs to be rescheduled, you have the office number. This is going to work out. I promise you.”
Milo pats my cheek as I stand, almost sensing my anxiety and comforting it away. Tears blur my vision as Ollie guides us out with one hand on the small of my back. His lips peck the back of my head as we stand at reception and find out the most important date in our lives.
July sixteenth.
We both look at Milo who stares back at us adoringly. Feeling my chest fill with the oxygen it desperately needs, I try calming my racing heartbeat. Woodshed is right, Milo is in capable hands.
Soon, our lives will change forever.
Chapter Seven
Ollie
Watching my father play with Milo around the living room of my parents’ home makes me realize just how much he’s aged. Retirement has done him well, but the toll of JT Corporation over the years whitened his hair and aged his features considerably. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d do it all over again because of how much he loved founding the powerhouse that dominates the region here in New York.
Lifting Milo over his head and moving him around like a plane, my father walks over to me where my son reaches out and cups my face. I make a face, causing him to giggle and then rear back into his grandfather.
Charlie’s soft murmurs coming from the kitchen are undoubtedly listing everything Bridgette James needs to know before we leave. Emergency contacts, the hotel number, what Milo is allergic to or just can’t have. It’s nothing my parents don’t know, but this is the first time we’re leaving him in the hands of someone else.
“Charlie?” I call, glancing at my watch.
Dad chuckles. “I remember those days. It’s always hard to leave them the first time around. Your mother would call every ten minutes after we left you with Darlene the first time. Trusted the woman with our lives and yours, but Bridgette had the worst separation anxiety.”
My lips lift at the corners. “I don’t doubt you’ll be receiving texts from Charlie when I turn my back. She’s been thinking about cancelling this since I suggested it.”
Dad grabs my arm and squeezes. “I think it’s good you two are going away before the surgery. You guys deserve it.”
Milo coos and blows more spit bubbles, some of the drool landing on Dad’s arm.
Charlie keeps talking with Mom, causing me to lean against the arm of the couch. “I feel bad that we’re leaving. Like we should be together now more than ever.”
The dark irises I get from him light up as they stare back at me. “Son, you’re going to have your entire life to be with him. It extends well past eighteen years, as you can imagine. There is nothing wrong with having a day or two to yourselves, especially when there are people more than willing to help.”
I nod, reaching out and tweaking Milo’s little nose. My parents have been great even when I could see the confliction in their eyes when Charlie and I went public. It never deterred them to do what they could when either of us needed something. I know I could have easily asked River and Everett to look after Milo, but they have their hands full already.
“In all seriousness,” Dad says, “I want to talk to you about the surgery. The cost of it has to be high with that ridiculous insurance through the school not covering it, and—”
“Dad,” I groan, standing.
“The fund has been in your name since you turned twenty-one, son.” His brows both raise knowingly. “Don’t think I don’t know you haven’t touched it. You’re prideful just like me. But it’s meant to be used, that’s why I made sure you had it.”
He wanted to make sure I had money to pay for school and settle into a career and home following graduation, just like he did with River. Thankfully, my sports scholarship gave me a full ride, so I didn’t have to dip into it or worry about student debt.
“I don’t need it,” I tell him quietly. It’s a sore subject for Mom that upsets her when she hears Dad and I argue about it. They both want to know the money is going to something good, and Mom feels like there’s a reason why I refuse to even touch it. No matter how many times I promise her it’s not personal, hurt still lingers in her soft eyes.
His resounding sigh makes my head tip back knowing where this is leading. “Milo’s surgery would be covered in full. He’d have money for schooling, college. You could buy a bigger house for the three of you. Maybe even somewhere closer—”
Our house is on the New York-Massachusetts border. While Lincoln Central School is stationed in New York, our house is just over the line by twenty minutes. It gives us enough distance from the wandering eyes that know us well in Bridgeport, yet not too much where we can’t all visit each other. Both my parents, River, Everett, and their kids live just under two hours from us. We alternate who visits who, so the travel is fair.
“We like our house.”
“It’s a nice house.” He bounces Milo, readjusting him in his arms. “I just know it would mean a lot to your mother if you were closer. She wants to be part of Milo’s life more. We both do.”
His point is fair, but it’s not one I can justify uprooting my family for. I love my parents, but I don’t love this city.
He must sense my thoughts. “People are over it, Oliver. I know it might not seem like it, but time has passed.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “No offense, Dad, but you’ll never understand. The second we made the choice to be together, we cemented how people here saw us. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter. You know how much I wanted to move even before I met Charlie.”
His shoulders loosen a little in defeat. “I admit that some webs probably shouldn’t have been woven in the eyes of certain people, but I want you to know that your mother and I are happy for you. We’re happy that you found Charlie and that River found Everett, even given the circumstances. We want what’s best for you, and we can see that you have it. You each have beautiful families, and that makes us proud.”
Rolling my neck, I give him a timid smile. We’ve never been one for mushy conversations, but I’ve spent far too long worried I’ve messed up any chance of hearing those words from him. It seemed like I was doomed from having the kind of relationship he would have wanted if I accepted his position at JT Corp, but I never give him the credit he fully deserves.
“Love you, Pop,” I say quietly, feeling the familiar tug of emotion in the back of my throat.
He kisses Milo and tips his head. “Love you too, Oliver. Now go find your wife before she convinces Bridgette to crash here instead of leaving.”
Laughing over the high probability of that actually occurring, I nod and head toward the sound of Charlie’s voice.
“Hey.” I kiss her cheek and then lean forward and kiss Mom’s. “We need to get going. You know he’ll be fine with them.”
Her eyes are pleading. “I know, but—”
“Nope. Let’s go.”
“Ollie—”
“Nice try, babe.” I gently guide her into the living room so she can say goodbye to Milo. When she picks him up and kisses him repeatedly, I worry she won’t give him back.
Mom walks in and wraps an arm around my waist. “Her love for that little boy is the purest I’ve ever seen, Oliver. It’s precious.”
My arm drapes across her shoulders. “He is her whole world. I’m lucky.”
Her arm tightens. “Not her whole world.”
Groaning, I peck the top of her head and then
walk over to Charlie and Milo. It takes another few minutes, but we both finally say goodbye to everyone before I’m all but dragging her back out to the car.
When we settle in, I notice her glassy gaze directed at the house. “Baby…” I pull her into me for a tight hug. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, remember? It’s going to be okay.”
Her hand goes to her chest after she draws back into her seat. “It hurts, Ollie. It’s like when…” She sniffles and wipes her cheeks. “It feels like it did after he was born. Like there’s a hole. But it’s not v-void like before.”
Void. Following Milo’s birth, Charlie struggled with post-partum depression. It was another layer of difficulty to try working past on top of his hearing loss, but she did it. She’d set up therapy appointments and talk with her doctor during checkups and do everything she could to connect with Milo despite their battles.
I weave our hands together, resting them on her thigh. “Remember how strong you are, Charlie. Our son gets his strength from you. I’m sure my parents will send pictures and videos and pick up any call you make to them. But we both know he’s going to be okay. We all are. Keep reminding yourself of that.”
At first, she doesn’t say or do anything. Then, ever so slowly, her grip on my hand tightens and she nods.
Pulling out of the driveway, I can’t help but look at the beautiful woman’s profile sitting beside me. Her gaze is focused out the window as we drive away from my parents, and the raw emotion seated on her wavering lips has my heart jumpstarting in my chest.
I’m lucky.
I repeat that to myself as we near the highway.
Chapter Eight
Charlie
My hair sticks to my face when I lift it from the unfamiliar smelling pillowcase. Flipping onto my back, I swing my arms out and take in the fluffy bedding below me. My hip sinks into the mattress, the first reminder that I’m not home.