Page 115 of Racking Up Penalties
My breath catches. A trust fund? My mind whirls with the possibilities, the weight of financial security suddenly lifting off my shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude.
“Grandma, Grandpa, I…” Words fail me as I take the envelope, fingers trembling. They watch with patient smiles, understanding etched into the lines of their aged faces.
“Thank you,” I finally manage to choke out, the emotional dam within me threatening to break. “This… this means more than you can imagine. To know I have your support, to feel this connection…” I glance at Tessa, whose eyes shimmer with unshed tears, mirroring my own.
“When I left my parents behind my dad he—” I stop myself, aware of the bitter edge creeping into my voice. This isn’t the time for old grievances; this is a moment of reconciliation.
“Son,” Grandpa says, reaching across the table to squeeze my shoulder, “you’ll never be alone in this. We may not have been there for every goal or every triumph, but from here on out, we’re in your corner. Also, we know that you’re in a less-than-conventional relationship and we are okay with it.”
I nod, feeling a rush of affection for these two people who represent a part of my life I thought was lost. The trust fund is more than just money; it’s a tangible link to family, to belonging, to love that perseveres despite years of silence. People who accept me for who I am.
“Family,” I say softly, almost to myself, allowing the idea to sink in.
“Let’s make some new memories, alright?” Grandma adds, her voice laced with hope and expectation.
“Absolutely,” I reply, strength returning to my voice. With Tessa by my side and my grandparents across from me, I can’t help but feel the tides are changing, that life is suddenly brimming with opportunities, both on the ice and off.
I reach for the glass of water, my hand slightly trembling as I take a sip to steady myself. Tessa’s hand finds mine under the table, her grip warm and reassuring. I turn to look at her, and she gives me a soft smile that seems to say everything will be okay.
I squeeze her hand back, grateful beyond words for her presence here today. She understands family dynamics more than anyone I know, and having her support means the world to me.
“Thank you, Tessa,” I murmur, my throat tight with emotion. “For being here, for… for everything.”
She nods, her hazel eyes shimmering with unspoken affection. There’s a depth to her gaze that I’ve seen before but never truly understood until this moment. It’s the look of someone who sees all your broken pieces and loves you even more for them.
The clinking of cutlery and soft laughter from nearby tables fade into the background as we share this silent conversation. It’s a connection that transcends words, a promise of solidarity no matter what life throws our way.
“I’ve got you,” she says, the corner of her mouth lifting in a tender smile.
“And I’ve got you,” I reply.
We say goodbye to my grandparents and I hug them tight before they go.
As we step out, I feel the sunshine on my face, bright and full of possibilities.
“Today was… amazing, wasn’t it?” Tessa asks as we walk down the sidewalk, her voice light with genuine joy.
“More than I could have ever imagined,” I agree, looking down at her. The breeze catches her long red hair, sending it dancing around her face in a fiery cascade.
She’s so vibrant, so alive, and she’s chosen to stand by me. That thought alone fills me with a sense of purpose and determination. With Tessa by my side, and now my grandparents back in my life, everything seems achievable.
“Let’s go celebrate,” Tessa suggests, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Just the two of us.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, and it really does. As we walk away from the restaurant, I feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. There’s love in this world for me, real and unwavering, and I’m ready to embrace it with open arms.
With each step, hope blooms in my chest, a reminder that sometimes life surprises you with second chances. And I’m determined to make the most of every single one.
Chapter 50
I stand in front of my closet, hands on my hips and a frown creasing my forehead. The pile of rejected outfits on my bed is growing, each one a testament to my indecision. “Dress cute,” they said, as if that’s a simple request.
“Come on, Tessa,” I mutter to myself, yanking a fluffy pink sweater off its hanger.
A text chimes on my phone, and I snatch it up, hoping for a clue. It’s from Tristan.
We’re outside. Don’t keep us waiting!
“Great,” I whisper, slipping into the sweater with haste. A quick glance at the mirror confirms I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, my red hair cascading down my back. It’s curled and styled.
