Page 61 of When Forever Stays

“God is in this,” I say, handing Rhett a steaming cup of black coffee.

Rhett thanks me and leans back on the couch. “I know.”

Crew sits across from us in a matching wicker chair, remaining uncharacteristically quiet.

“And what are you thinking?” Rosa asks Crew, stirring in her cream and sugar.

Crew leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I think Oscar is being an idiot.”

Rhett shakes his head. “No, he’s not. I really can’t blame the kid.”

Crew shifts his attention to Rhett. “Yes, you can. You gave him part of one of your organs. You gave up your life here to save his without hesitation. Despite not even knowing he had existed minutes before you heard about his diagnosis, you knew you’d do anything to help save him. He’s being a little turd.” Crew muttersturdunder his breath.

My mouth drops and my eyes go wide. Crew standing up for Rhett? Unheard of. He may have told Rhett that they were cool, but it didn’t mean they immediately became best friends. Crew has been cautious with Rhett, knowing his track record wasn’t the best. Slowly, his walls have come down, but this turn of events is completely unexpected.

“He’s not.” Rhett smirks. “I missed so much of his life. I’d probably act even worse if I was in his shoes.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I interject. “You’d be grateful you had a dad who wanted to be a part of your life and would make that sort of sacrifice.” I take the spot next to Rhett after Rosa scoots to make room for me.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple. “I’m glad you think so highly of me. But I was just like Oscar when I was his age.” Rhett is silent for a long pause, and almostas if we all know he needs a moment to think, the rest of us give him the time he needs. After apparently gathering his thoughts, he says, “I wrote him a song, recorded it, and left it on their porch.”

“That’s so sweet,” Rosa says.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he threw it away,” Rhett adds.

“Doubtful. More likely he’ll sell it off to the highest bidder,” Crew says.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, Mr. Optimism.”

Crew shrugs. “That’s what I’d do if I was Oscar.”

“He’s not going to do that,” I say, giving Crew a dirty look. He shrugs. “Oscar will come around,” I tell Rhett. Praying I sound more confident than I feel…and that I’m right.

TWENTY FIVE

RHETT

“I know I don’t deserve any of the good things I have in my life right now. But Lord, I am begging You for another shot with my son. Please soften Oscar’s heart toward me.” I say the prayer out loud as I sit on the back porch of my temporary home, strumming my acoustic guitar.

Every time I think about how badly I’ve messed up my life, I think of Dana and remember the beauty she floods my world with each day. I remember the forgiveness she extended to me and thank God for the relationship we’ve built with Christ at its center. I haven’t had a single doubt that Dana will one day be my wife, but the one thing holding me back from proposing to Dana is Oscar. Something tells me that things need to be right with my son before I pop the question.

The ring has been burning a hole in my pocket for the last few weeks. But every time I start to drop to one knee, something happens.

The first time I tried to propose, we were on the beach, and just before my knee touched the ground, I was attacked by a seagull. The next time was on the boardwalk, where I was run down bya granny in a wheelchair race. The last time was under the stars on the plot of land she helped me choose for where my new home will soon be built. We were standing on a patch of gravel, and when I went to get down on one knee as Dana gazed at the stars, I tripped on my shoelace and drove my knee into the stones. After that, I decided it was time to give it a rest. All of that made it clear that I need to figure things out with Oscar before successfully proposing to Dana.

My phone vibrates, and I answer on the first ring.

“Rhett?” It’s Ashley, sounding panicked. “I need you.”

“Is it Oscar?” I ask.

“Yes,” she sobs into the phone.

“What’s happened?” Worst case scenarios flash through my mind at lightning speed. The last one has bile rising in my throat.

“He’s…he’s…” she stutters, then I hear her blow her nose. “He’s in jail.”

Relief washes over me, followed by dread. “What?”

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