The Last Letter(47)

“I feel great today, and the weather is good, and I’ll even sit in the car. But please? I don’t want to miss his first game.”

“You’d say you felt great even if you didn’t.”

“Please?”

Ella’s eyes locked on mine. “It’s your call,” I said, well aware I didn’t belong in that decision-making equation. “I can tell you that it’s seventy-three degrees, light sun, and I have a shade tent in the car.”

“But all the people…”

“Beckett can scare them off, right?” Maisie used those big blue eyes on me, and I threw up my hands immediately, backing away. Yup, I’d give in every time.

“So not getting involved, here. Ella, you decide, and I’ll just be out there.” Away from the women of the house who were currently glaring each other into submission.

“She can go,” Ella relented.

We got to the field five minutes later than we should have, but I wasn’t going to stress. It was little kid soccer, not the World Cup. I spun Colt on the seat, tying his cleats after I’d secured his shin guards. Then I held up the bottle of sunscreen.

“It’s all goopy.”

“It’s spray. And really, you’re the one who insists on shaving his head.”

“It’s for Maisie!”

“I’m not arguing with your reasoning, little man. But you know what I was told at your age? You’re free to choose, but you’re not free of the consequences of your choice. Shaving your head is awesome. Now, sunscreen.” It was almost four o’clock, but the afternoon sun was just as harsh for bald heads.

He folded his arms across the chest of his maroon uniform but didn’t utter a word as I sprayed him down, careful to get his face with my hands.

“You’re getting good at that,” Ella said as she came around the front of my truck.

“He makes it easy,” I said, and lifted Colt to the ground. “You’re good to go.”

He walked over to Ella, who dropped to her knees, which were bare in her khaki shorts. “Okay, what’s the most important thing about today’s game?”

Colt’s expression turned fierce. “Play my position, show no fear, and tonight we dine on the souls of our enemies!”

Ella leaned sideways and raised an eyebrow at me.

“What?” I shrugged.

She stood and straightened his uniform. “Off you go.”

“And keep your hands off the ball!” I shouted after him. He turned, throwing me a thumbs-up before racing toward his team.

“The souls of his enemies?” Ella questioned, holding back a laugh with her arms folded under her breasts. I didn’t look at the way the move pushed them up toward the scoop neck of her maroon shirt. Nope. Didn’t look.

“What? He’s basically a man.”

“He’s six.”

“Boys were trained as warriors at age seven in ancient Sparta.”

She laughed, the sound utterly intoxicating. “I’ll be sure to keep the Spartans off the invite list for his birthday party.”

“Just to be safe,” I agreed and was rewarded with another laugh.

This is exactly how her life should be, filled with soccer games and sunshine and smiles from both her kids. This was exactly what she deserved. I just wasn’t the person who deserved to give it to her.

Havoc jumped from the bed of the truck and kept me company while I set up the shade tent away from where the other parents were set up. The design let the fresh air in but kept the sun off Maisie while allowing her see the game. “Stay,” I commanded Havoc, and her rump hit the ground at the opening of the tent.

When I got back to the truck, Ella already had her wagon loaded with the folding chairs. Maisie sat perched at the edge of the seat, and that’s when I saw it—exhaustion. Man, she’d hid it well.

“Hey, why don’t you head over and set up Maisie’s seat, and I’ll bring her down,” I suggested to Ella. “That way she’s not in the sun for too long.”

Ella agreed and walked across the grassy expanse to the tent.

“You’re exhausted,” I said to Maisie, turning back to her.

She nodded, dropping her head a little. “I didn’t want to miss it. I miss everything.”

“I get that, but you also have to take care of yourself so you can do even more when you get better.”

Her fingers skimmed over the place under her shirt where her PICC line ran in her arm, protected by a mesh armband. “I know.”

It was the way she said it that made me take her hand. “I see a lot of soccer games in your future. Everything you’re going through right now will one day be this crazy story you get to tell everyone, and it’s going to look great on your college entrance essay, okay?”

“I’m six.” A small smile tilted her lips.

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me today?” I asked. “Now, would you like a ride to the game?”

Her smile erupted in a flash of joy, and I scooped her up, adjusting her long, pink wind pants and matching long-sleeve shirt to cover all of her skin, and then her giant, hot-pink floppy sun hat. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” I offered as I strode toward the tent with Maisie in my arms.

“What’s that?”