Coast (Kick Push Book 2) (The Road 3) (19 page)

“I said I’d take care of it,” I cut in.

“I know,” he says reassuringly. “And I appreciate it. I think with everything else going on, you being able to do that just added more fuel to my fire.”

I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet.

He finishes his beer and starts another one. “Fifty years I’ve been around. Thirty of those I spent working the same job. I never thought I’d have a family, never really wanted one, to be honest. I blew my paycheck whenever I got it, never had a home, just crashed at friends’ houses until I was back at work. Thirty years and I never really thought about anyone but myself. And then I get told about Becca and St. Louis and…” He swallows loudly, his beer almost empty again. “You ever feel like the world just stops, Warden?”

I stare ahead, letting his admission settle in my mind. “Yeah. All the time.”

“That’s how it felt when I saw her picture. I knew that she was mine, and I knew I had to do
something
. I couldn’t turn her away. So I quit, gathered whatever savings I had, sold whatever I could, and rented that house near WU. I couldn’t go back to work, not until I knew she was okay mentally. Even now I’m taking these small jobs because I don’t want to be gone too long in case she needs me, which she hasn’t for a while, but what if she does and I’m not around?” He’s talking in circles, trying to justify every decision he’s ever made. I know, because I do the same whenever it comes to Tommy. “College ain’t cheap. Neither is all the camera equipment and computer stuff she needs, and the rent for the house—” he breaks off suddenly, his eyes widening. “I don’t want you to think that I’m asking you for money, that’s the last thing—”

“I know,” I tell him, my mind spinning, “We’re just talking, right?”

He laughs once. “I know this doesn’t excuse the way I treated you.”

“I get it, though.” I find myself matching his position, legs kicked out, beer in hand, like it somehow makes this a man-to-man conversation. “You thought you were protecting her. And I know you probably don’t want to hear it, especially from me, but I understand what it’s like to be broke and to do everything you can for your kid. When Tommy’s mother left, I went running to my parents. They slammed the door in my face—something they regret, and something I’ve forgiven them for. But I would’ve never gone to anyone else. Every man, even at seventeen, has a level of pride, and then it doubles when being a man comes second to being a father. But even though I never asked, help was offered. My best friend, Chazarae, my uncle—they all came through when I needed them the most. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know it’s hard to ask for help. But there’s nothing wrong with accepting it when it’s offered. Especially when your kid’s involved.”

—Becca—

I
have no
idea what Dad said to Josh that made Josh speak to him the way he had. But I do know they spoke, and the next morning right before Dad left, Josh stopped him in the driveway, handed him something and said, “You didn’t ask.” They hugged. Honestly, it was a little awkward for me to watch, so I can’t even imagine how awkward it was for them to do it. Once the cab drove away with Dad, Josh turned to me and he smiled the same crooked smile that sets off all the butterflies and said, “Let’s take care of your grams.”

So that’s what we do. We get the résumés for the in-home nurses and spend a couple days with Ella going through them all. We call the ones who seem like a good fit and organize interviews with them. Grams falls in and out of sleep constantly. She still doesn’t know who I am, and I’ve accepted that. It hurts, but the hurt lessens with every look, every smile I gain just from being around her.

The next few days after that go by in a blur. We interview nurse after nurse until they all blend together in a sea of credentials and experience. Ella sits with us through all of them while his aunt stays with Tommy in the apartment. Josh finds it necessary to remind me constantly that even though he has the power of attorney, I’m as involved in making the decisions as he is. We struggle, a lot, overwhelmed with the importance of the choices we have to make and aware of the time ticking by, getting closer and closer to the day I have to go back to St. Louis.

Grams has a lot of visitors, some she remembers, others she doesn’t. Josh’s aunt and uncle are a constant. Blake and Chloe come by once and take Tommy for the night. The one person I wasn’t expecting, though, was Chris, and going by the look on Josh’s face when he shows up, Josh wasn’t expecting him either.

Chris steps out of his car, or truck, or something in between the two. Whatever it is, it’s black and looks like it costs more than my dad’s house. He reaches inside and pulls out a bouquet of flowers approximately the size of the ozone layer. So maybe I’m exaggerating, and I’m also being a judgy mcjudgepants, but it’s not like I have a single reason to be happy to see him. He stops in his tracks when he sees me sitting on the porch with Tommy, then raises his free hand. “I’m just here to see Chaz,” he says in his defense.

I realize I’m glaring at him, my brows knitted, and a snarl pulling on my lips.

Josh stands between us, looking from one to the other. He doesn’t get a chance to speak before Tommy leaps off the porch steps and tackle hugs Chris, who smiles down at him. “Uncle Chris!” Tommy shouts, the happiness in his voice deflating my anger.

I stand, too, and slowly make my way to him, my pride being pushed away with each step I take. “I’m sorry about your grams,” Chris says. He grabs ahold of the flowers, and only then do I realize there are two bouquets. “I got these for you,” he says, handing me one. “I know it’s not much, and it doesn’t make up for the way I treated you last time—”

“Last time!” Tommy shouts.

Chris laughs at him, then goes back to me, a sincerity in his eyes that knocks me back a step. “My grandpa had dementia,” he tells me. “Would it be okay if I visited your grams for a while?”

A knot forms in my throat at his admission, and I nod while accepting his gift. I turn on my heels and lead him toward the house, smiling sadly at Josh when I catch him watching me.

Grams doesn’t recognize him, but Chris doesn’t seem at all surprised by that. Still, he sits with her, and he talks about Josh; something Grams is familiar with. I set our flowers in vases—a new set Josh went out and bought the day after she threw one at Dad’s head. Chris stays by her side until she tells me she’s tired. He steps to the side and allows me to settle her into bed. “Thanks for visiting…” Grams says, her voice tired. “What’s your name again?”

“Chris.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m so tired and it’s hard to remember—”

“I understand,” Chris cuts in. “Though, I’m pretty sure you don’t need any
more
beauty sleep.”

Grams giggles like a schoolgirl. “He’s charming,” she tells me. “Just like my Joshua.” And then she’s asleep, her breaths even and her mind at peace, no longer wandering through a life she’s trying to piece back together.

“I really appreciate you letting me see her,” Chris says from beside me, his fingers skimming Grams’s hand.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. “
Why wouldn’t I?
”

He sighs. “Did Warden ever tell you about the time the team was here?”

I shake my head and look up at him. He deserves that much.

“Yeah, we were here for an appearance for the new storefront, and she invited us all over for dinner. First home-cooked meal the boys had had in a long time. She wouldn’t let us stay in a hotel, said her guest bedrooms were fine. Four boys, two beds… but we couldn’t say no. She had us going to church with her the next morning and then out with Warden working on her yard the rest of the day. She paid us with rose petals
in
lemonade. It was gross, but we took it like champs and downed it.”

My eyes narrow in confusion.

He adds, “Looking back now, it was probably the beginning of her illness…”

I suck in a breath, my chest tight. “
You said your grandpa…
”

Nodding, Chris looks away and says, “My mom took care of him, had to watch his decline like you and Josh are doing now. I was young, so I didn’t really understand it all. I think I was Tommy’s age when he passed. I don’t remember much of it, but I do know that it took a lot out of my mom. Almost ruined her.” He clears his throat, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Your grams was like a grandmother to us all after that visit. She’s important to the whole team. And so is Josh.” He turns to me, his eyes right on mine. “Josh—he’s kind of the soul of the team, Becca, and that makes you the
heart
of it.”

*     *     *

Josh looks up
when I step out of the house later in the day, closing the door behind me, but he doesn’t say a word, just continues to land trick after trick on his skateboard. His hands, his legs, his entire body moving, outlined by the light inside the open garage. I sit down on the porch steps, now only half of what they used to be because of the ramp, and I watch him. I watch the grace, the skill, the passion he has in what he does. Occasionally, he’ll land wrong, curse under his breath, and then try again. And again. And again. An hour goes by. Then two. Neither of us saying a word. Then he finally stops, grabs his board and takes it with him as he sits down next to me.

I type on my phone and show it to him.
Why’d you stop?

He laughs. “Why’d you keep watching?”

I could watch you forever.

He looks up from the phone, his eyes meeting mine. I shrug, trying to play cool, but deep down, my heart’s picked up pace—reacting to the way he’s looking at me.

How do you know when Tommy wakes up?
I type, pushing away the feelings creeping beneath the surface.

“He’s so used to me being out here, he just opens his window and calls out to me.”

Silence falls between us while I look up at the stars and get lost in his scent. He still wears the same cologne that drew me to him all those years ago. “You still wear that stupid ring?” he asks.

I frown and look down at my hand, at the ring he’d given me while we sat in this exact spot on my eighteenth birthday. “Not stupid,” I whisper, then swallow the ache. Not just in my throat, but in my heart. I’ve never taken the ring off. Not once.

He sighs while I drop the phone on my lap and spin the ring around my finger, my thumb skimming over the words
I shoot like a girl
. I pick up my phone and angle it so he can see what I type,
It was one of the best nights of my life, Josh. Don’t take that away from me.

He blows out a breath, long and slow.

I change the subject.
Chris told me that Grams made you guys drink rose petals in lemonade?

He laughs once, but it’s sad. “You know, I was thinking about your grams… about all these things she’d done when I was home that I didn’t pick up on at the time. That was one of them. Another time I came home and she was out in the garden in the back yard on her hands and knees. She said she was looking for her earrings. She doesn’t even have her ears pierced. The next day, she was out there again, and when I asked her why, she said her toothbrush was missing. We found it in her fridge.” He shakes his head, his mind lost in the memories. “I don’t know why I didn’t see things earlier, Becs. I’m sorry. I should’ve.”

I stay quiet a beat, replaying his words in my head.
Where was her toothpaste?

“
That’s
what you got from that?” He laughs, his eyes narrowed and his head shaking in disbelief. “
Where was her toothpaste?
”

A giggle builds in my chest, then releases in silent laughter.

“Why are you laughing about this?”

I wait until I’ve settled, then type:
It’s Grams—she was always a little nutty anyway, before any of this happened… so this just makes her more… eccentric? Besides, what would be the point of life if we couldn’t find laughter and joy amongst the turmoil?

Josh just stares, and stares, and then stares some more. Then he says, “I got your letter, Becs.”

And just like that, there’s no laughter, no joy. No logic to my actions. My eyes drift shut, my stomach dropping to the floor. It’s not as if I didn’t expect him to get it, but I’d hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t bring it up. Regrets are stupid, and just like that letter, I can’t take either of them back.

He says, “I was only home for a few days before I had to travel again. Then I was gone three weeks. When I got back, it was there waiting for me. I knew it was from you, I could tell by the handwriting. But I couldn’t force myself to open it because I knew whatever it was, it would either ruin me, or I’d somehow ruin us.” He pauses a beat, his eyes distant, his hand rubbing his jaw. “For a week I carried that letter around, waiting for the right time, and it never seemed to come. It wasn’t until I was on a plane to Brazil for a tournament that I finally got the balls to do it. I almost made Chris turn the plane around when I saw what was in there. I was going to call you, message you, tell you that I’d gotten it, but I wanted to wait until I saw you in person.” He turns to me, his lips thinned to a line.