Page 68 of Your Sharpest Edge
I took a deep breath and said, “Where are we going?”
She whirled around, and her knees buckled. Instinctively, I reached out to grab her, which was a terrible fucking idea. Because her arms felt the same as my fingers glided around her forearm. Her skin felt smooth, and I couldn’t stop the memories that flashed in my mind—the way she felt leaning into me when she fell asleep or the way our hands brushed as she brought over a cookie.
Dirks held her up on the other side as we carefully guided her back to the bench.
“Y-y-you?” she sputtered.
I shrugged, standing there awkwardly as I shuffled my feet in the dirt. “Hi, malyshka.”
It was all I knew how to say without bending down to her on the bench, begging her for answers to questions I didn’t deserve and hoping she’d forgive me.
“I-I-I...” She looked up at me with bright eyes filled with shock. They were so wide, and her skin was paling.
“It’s so good to see you moving about.” I turned to look at Damien, who was just down the field. “And God, I thought when I first saw you he looked like... him, but I was wrong. He looks so much like you.”
Dirks moved to the side as she sat on the bench and stared at me, not moving. I needed to fill the silence with something, so I kept talking because what else could I do?
“And you’re in Chicago. That’s kinda cosmic that we’re both in the same place at the same time, isn’t it?”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I-I live here. I, uh, I moved here with Damien.”
Dirks looked at her, then back up at me. “She works as a dispatcher. She moved here for physical therapy. Her mom had to go back to Russia.”
He filled in the gaps, and I hated that he knew this. I wanted to be the first one to know about it.
“I, um, got traded with Dirks. We both live in an apartment complex near Bucktown.”
Her eyes never left mine, and she kept nodding at my words.
“You never called me,” I whispered, hoping Dirks would take a hint and let us talk.
“I-I couldn’t. I told you that I wanted you out.”
“And you meant it.”
I didn’t mean for my words to come out harshly, but there was a time I thought she would get my number and call me and tell me that she wanted a friend again. I was consumed with the game that season and played horribly, but I missed her and wished that she’d have called, at the very least, to tell me she was okay.
“I couldn’t bring you down with me. Everything was falling apart, and you were there the day I woke up, kissin?—”
“Mommy.” The little boy with bright curly hair came running over. “I saw you falling. Are you okay?” He looked up at Dirks and me, who were standing awkwardly over the bench at this point. “Did you see a ghost?” the boy asked as he leaned in to her.
I dropped down to my haunches to look at him closer. He had so many features of her ex but so much of her brightness, her energy.
We turned to look at Anastasia, who had unshed tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She looked between Damien and me, and her chest rose and fell at a pace that wasn’t normal. Somehow, deep inside, I knew she was close to having a panic attack but didn’t want Damien to see.
I held the little boy’s hand in mine. “Mommy and I are old friends. I asked if I could go out to dinner with her with this guy right here.” I nudged Dirks in the side, hoping he’d chime in. “But let’s give her some time to think about it. Why don’t we go back to where they’re playing tennis and then have a snack?”
“Only if it’s bananas. I don’t like other fruit.”
I huffed out a chuckle. “Sounds good, Damien.” Then I turned to Dirks. “Let’s go. Give her some space. Right, Anastasia?”
She looked at me, silently and slowly nodding. The corners of her lips twisted in the smallest smile. “It’s Stassi.”
I wanted to laugh at our familiar joke, but nothing came out other than a sad smile. As we walked away, holding the little boy’s hand, Dirks gave me a pat on the shoulder.
“There are so many good things, Alex. Think of the good.”
I stared at him. “I missed so much.”
