Page 22 of Delicate Storm

Mom’s face drops and she walks over, pulling me into a hug that I don’t reciprocate. I don’t need sympathy; I need to sort my life out.

“It’s going to be okay, East. I promise it will all work out.”

Mom leaves not long after our chat, and it seems like barely any time has passed before she’s back the next day, ready to help out again.

Since it’s preseason, I have a little more time on my hands, but I know once the season begins, something has to change. I can’t expect her to keep driving across town every day to help out.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says after breakfast when Isaac’s out of earshot. “Since Wednesday seems to be late for you and Thursdays are usually early, what if Isaac comes to my place on Wednesday for a sleepover each week? It will give you time to yourself and save me on travel.”

My eyes flash to Isaac as he crashes two wooden trucks into each other and my chest tightens. It makes sense to help Mom out but… “I don’t need time to myself.”

Mom’s brows furrow and she frowns. “You’ve never been a good liar.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I just don’t know if I’ll be able to stay away from him. I already miss out on seeing him during away games. But I can drive him to your place more. That’s not an issue.”

“What about we try it next week? It might be good for all involved.”

“Go! Go! Go!” Isaac calls out as two of his trucks race across the floorboards, hitting the wall on the opposite side of the room.

“It would be good for him to have a bit more space. And a yard to run around in.”

I grew up on a decent-sized property in North Carolina, with lots of space to run around. Without it, I probably wouldn’t be the football player I am today. When I paid for Mom to move here a few years ago, I insisted she have a yard, despite her arguments. I thought she’d regret it if she had grandchildren and nowhere for them to play. I was thinking about Keeley, or my older sister, Addison, when she visited. I never considered I’d be the first to bless her with a rugrat. But here we are.

“So that’s a yes?” Mom asks enthusiastically.

“That’s a ‘let’s give it a try.’”

“Deal. But I think you’ll find you love it.”

“You might be right.”

“I usually am.”

She sets about making Isaac lunch while I say goodbye.

“Little man, I have to go into work again, but Nana’s here.” We’ve been playing all morning which means this could go either way. Some days he pushes me out the door because he’s ready for someone new, and on other days he gets upset because we’ve been spending so much time together and he doesn’t want to let go. I pause, my breath caught, as I wait.

“Okay, Dad. Lub you.”

The air leaves my lungs as I bend down to pull him into a hug. “Look after Nana, okay?”

“Yep.”

He jumps up and runs into the kitchen while I sigh in relief. It’s never easy leaving him, but saying goodbye when he’s crying makes it so much harder.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Mom. Let me know if you need anything on my way home or if anything—”

“We’ll be all right,” she cuts me off, lifting Isaac into her arms. “Off you go.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

Pulling my cap low on my forehead, I throw my bag over my shoulder and walk to the door, calling out as I leave, “Love you, Isaac.”

“Lub you.”

Isaac’s voice remains in my mind as the tension of each goodbye swirls in my gut, and I’m still in my head as I take the elevator down to my truck.

How am I going to do this when the season begins?How am I going to travel with the team, knowing he’s at home without either of his parents?My mom’s great, but she’s notme. Or even Macy.

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