Page 144 of Redemption
We’ve been here for ten minutes, and Kota is a ball of energy.
“Don’t you call him that. He’s the most precious boy,” I say, rubbing Kota’s head.
The dog nuzzles my hands, and Hayes rolls his eyes. “Of course, he’s good for you. You spoil him.”
I give him a cheeky grin, “Maybe you should try it.”
He pinches my side. “I think he gets it enough from you. He’d be worthless if I joined in, too.”
I wave him away, and he scoops up my hand in his. We walk in comfortable silence, swinging our hands between us while Kota runs up the trail and back to us.
It’s the first time things have felt settled since Hayes freaked out after reading Langston’s journal. He was weird for a while, and I get it. It was hard to read that—to have to face all the decisions we made in a different light—but I don’t want to keepreliving that day anymore. It was hard enough to live the first time.
Hayes lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles. “I have something to ask you.”
“Well, that sounds ominous.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. It doesn’t have to be, though.”
“Why does that not make me feel better?”
Turning his head to me, he winks. “Because you know me too well.”
I grin back at him, but then his face turns serious. My stomach starts to turn, and I sigh. “Okay, go ahead. Ask away.”
His thumb rubs the edge of my finger, offering me a little bit of comfort before he asks, “Why haven’t you come to any of the football games? You’ve been at practices, and you love Tanner. So why haven’t you been to watch him play? I think it would mean a lot to him.”
“A lot to him, or a lot to you?” I ask, looking off into a wooded area off the trail and avoiding his stare.
“Me too. You know it would mean a lot, but I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for you. Why haven’t you been to a game?”
“You know why, Hayes. Can we change the topic?”
“Hey,” he says, stopping and pulling on my hand. “No. We can’t change the topic. I think we need to have this conversation. I’ve seen you start to heal since your first day back. You aren’t slinging tire irons at my nose anymore. You’re getting along with your mom. I think you enjoy your job. So why not a game? What makes it so different?”
I don’t want to have this conversation. It makes me want to hide in a corner and pretend there aren’t still things I’m avoiding. But healing requires looking at the hard things and facing them head-on.
So, I square my shoulders and look Hayes in the eye. “Because it’s the last step.”
His brows narrow. “The last step to what?”
“To letting Langston go. I’ve clung to his memory and the guilt like a shield, and if I sit in those stands and face the game that killed him, what will I have left? How will I protect myself then?”
He squeezes my hand. “Protect yourself from what?”
“From moving on. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to leave him behind. He doesn’t deserve it.”
Silent tears slip down my face, and Hayes lets go of my hand, pulling me into his arms. I let my head fall to his shoulder, soaking his shirt with my tears. His hand holds the back of my head, giving me all his strength.
“You’ll never leave him behind, MJ. He’s your brother. You’re the reason his memory will stay alive, but maybe taking this last step means moving on from the bad so you can soak in the good. Be the reason the good parts of his memory live on.”
“And what if I can’t?” I ask into his shirt, muffling my words. “What if people only ever remember the bad because of me?”
“And what if you can? We can play this what-if game all day, but the truth is you will never really know until you try. And honestly, I think you’re the best one to make sure that the good parts of his memory live on because you saw the good parts in him—the parts no one else bothered to look at. Come to the game—not for me, not for Tanner, but for yourself.”
“And what if I’m scared?”
Hayes chuckles. “You took on a six-foot man with a tire iron. What do you have to be scared of after that?”
