Page 10 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

“I’ll take them down. I’m on three, too.” Beau pushed past Janet into the elevator, ignoring Henry’s questioning gaze when he enthusiastically pressed the close button.

Sienna continued to avoid his stare, smoothing down the ends of Grace’s wig.

“Did you make it to NASA yet?” Beau asked Henry.

“My chances of being an astronaut were about as high as you winning the Super Bowl this year,” Henry quipped. “No. I teach math at our alma mater. We’re still in Brookwood.”

We.Beau realized.He said we.Which means she’s still there.

“We still live in Papa’s house,” Grace offered. “The three of us. Me. Henry. Mom.”

Beau could feel the wrath of Sienna’s stare burn into Grace, as if she were furious her daughter let Beau know all he needed to—there was no one else in the picture.

The elevator opened, and Beau moved aside for Henry to exit first, followed by Grace. When Sienna stepped in front of him, Beau slipped the bag of Swedish Fish into her jacket pocket.

“Can we stop at the diner for a milkshake? I want everyone to see me in this limo,” Grace said.

Sienna shook her head. “Your day is over. And I think you made enough passes at the candy buffet.”

Huffing, Grace trudged to the limo, where the driver was waiting by the open door. She turned back to Beau and smiled. “Thanks for making my wish come true.”

Beau cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“The Sparks won. I guess miracles do happen.” Grace shrugged before sliding into the limo.

“Take care of yourself, big guy.” Henry gave Beau a pat on his back before following Grace.

Nodding, Beau chewed on his lip as Sienna approached the door.

“Sienna,” he said quietly, and he could see the reluctance in her body as she stopped beside him. “I’m happy I got to see you.”

Sienna said nothing, and Beau sighed heavily.It’s not our night.

Sienna glanced around the near-empty parking lot. “Is your car even down here?”

“My car? No.” She was mid-eye roll when Beau pointed and continued, “My bike, yeah.”

He watched Sienna follow his finger and could see in the smallest twitch of her shoulders the way she held her breath for a moment before shaking her head, her blonde waves cascading down her back.

Your bike.Our bike.Beau wanted to cup her cheek and hold her close.I didn’t forget. I could never forget.

But Sienna’s face remained hard and cold before she stepped closer to the car to join Grace and Henry.

“Sienna,” Beau called out again, and she sighed so strongly her shoulders raised and dropped. “You did a good job with her.” He motioned to the limo where Grace was continuing to go on about milkshakes.

“I know,” was all she said before stepping in, not waiting for the driver to close the door and shutting it behind her.

Beau let out a heavy breath, still hearing Grace yammer on about that milkshake. “Hey,” he called out to the driver, following him behind the limo. Beau pulled out his wallet, handing him a hundred-dollar bill. “Get them some milkshakes, would you? From wherever the girl wants.”

With a skeptical look and nod, the driver cautiously pocketed the money, and Beau headed to his bike, not wanting to see Sienna drive off. Straddling the seat, he reached into his pocket for the key, his fingertips colliding with the creased, paper he had shoved in earlier. With the limo out of sight, Beau pulled it out and opened it, finding a piece of paper flooded with ink.

Dear Mr. Walker,

Alright, I’ll be honest. I don’t really care that much about football. Don’t take that personally. I’m sure you’re a greatwide receiver, even if your record this season tells me otherwise. But the truth is, the day I decided to submit my application to the Golden Penny Foundation was the day I found out two important things: 1) my stem cell transplant worked, and even though I wasn’t cancer free right then and there, the doctors were happy and 2) my uncle Henry bought me tickets to the Simon Gorges concert this spring, and that’s what I was going to ask for in the first place. I would’ve asked for backstage passes but I refuse to meet him without my own hair.

Another thing happened that night. I got up to use the bathroom (sorry for the TMI), and when I walked down the hall, heard my mom crying. It wasn’t a happy cry, you’ll have to trust me on that. I like to think I know her best. The truth is, she cries a lot. Like a lot, even though she’ll never admit it. I hate to make her sound so sad, but she just issosad.

And then I realized that if she couldn’t be happy on the day that should be the happiest moment of our lives, she’s the one who deserves the wish, not me.

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