The Last Letter (Page 25)

She looked up from the eternal stack of paperwork on the mahogany expanse and quickly cloaked her panic, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just let me see if Hailey is back yet so she can keep an eye on Maisie.”

“I want to go. Please, Mom? Please?” Maisie begged. She was looking flushed today, the color returning to her cheeks just in time to get hit with another round of chemo next week.

This was one of those moments I was so glad I wasn’t a parent, because I’d give in every time. Every. Time.

Ella’s brow puckered. “I just don’t know, Maisie.”

“I feel great today, and the weather is good, and I’ll even sit in the car. But please? I don’t want to miss his first game.”

“You’d say you felt great even if you didn’t.”

“Please?”

Ella’s eyes locked on mine. “It’s your call,” I said, well aware I didn’t belong in that decision-making equation. “I can tell you that it’s seventy-three degrees, light sun, and I have a shade tent in the car.”

“But all the people…”

“Beckett can scare them off, right?” Maisie used those big blue eyes on me, and I threw up my hands immediately, backing away. Yup, I’d give in every time.

“So not getting involved, here. Ella, you decide, and I’ll just be out there.” Away from the women of the house who were currently glaring each other into submission.

“She can go,” Ella relented.

We got to the field five minutes later than we should have, but I wasn’t going to stress. It was little kid soccer, not the World Cup. I spun Colt on the seat, tying his cleats after I’d secured his shin guards. Then I held up the bottle of sunscreen.

“It’s all goopy.”

“It’s spray. And really, you’re the one who insists on shaving his head.”

“It’s for Maisie!”

“I’m not arguing with your reasoning, little man. But you know what I was told at your age? You’re free to choose, but you’re not free of the consequences of your choice. Shaving your head is awesome. Now, sunscreen.” It was almost four o’clock, but the afternoon sun was just as harsh for bald heads.

He folded his arms across the chest of his maroon uniform but didn’t utter a word as I sprayed him down, careful to get his face with my hands.

“You’re getting good at that,” Ella said as she came around the front of my truck.

“He makes it easy,” I said, and lifted Colt to the ground. “You’re good to go.”

He walked over to Ella, who dropped to her knees, which were bare in her khaki shorts. “Okay, what’s the most important thing about today’s game?”

Colt’s expression turned fierce. “Play my position, show no fear, and tonight we dine on the souls of our enemies!”

Ella leaned sideways and raised an eyebrow at me.

“What?” I shrugged.

She stood and straightened his uniform. “Off you go.”

“And keep your hands off the ball!” I shouted after him. He turned, throwing me a thumbs-up before racing toward his team.

“The souls of his enemies?” Ella questioned, holding back a laugh with her arms folded under her breasts. I didn’t look at the way the move pushed them up toward the scoop neck of her maroon shirt. Nope. Didn’t look.

“What? He’s basically a man.”

“He’s six.”

“Boys were trained as warriors at age seven in ancient Sparta.”

She laughed, the sound utterly intoxicating. “I’ll be sure to keep the Spartans off the invite list for his birthday party.”

“Just to be safe,” I agreed and was rewarded with another laugh.

This is exactly how her life should be, filled with soccer games and sunshine and smiles from both her kids. This was exactly what she deserved. I just wasn’t the person who deserved to give it to her.

Havoc jumped from the bed of the truck and kept me company while I set up the shade tent away from where the other parents were set up. The design let the fresh air in but kept the sun off Maisie while allowing her see the game. “Stay,” I commanded Havoc, and her rump hit the ground at the opening of the tent.

When I got back to the truck, Ella already had her wagon loaded with the folding chairs. Maisie sat perched at the edge of the seat, and that’s when I saw it—exhaustion. Man, she’d hid it well.

“Hey, why don’t you head over and set up Maisie’s seat, and I’ll bring her down,” I suggested to Ella. “That way she’s not in the sun for too long.”

Ella agreed and walked across the grassy expanse to the tent.

“You’re exhausted,” I said to Maisie, turning back to her.

She nodded, dropping her head a little. “I didn’t want to miss it. I miss everything.”

“I get that, but you also have to take care of yourself so you can do even more when you get better.”

Her fingers skimmed over the place under her shirt where her PICC line ran in her arm, protected by a mesh armband. “I know.”

It was the way she said it that made me take her hand. “I see a lot of soccer games in your future. Everything you’re going through right now will one day be this crazy story you get to tell everyone, and it’s going to look great on your college entrance essay, okay?”

“I’m six.” A small smile tilted her lips.

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me today?” I asked. “Now, would you like a ride to the game?”

Her smile erupted in a flash of joy, and I scooped her up, adjusting her long, pink wind pants and matching long-sleeve shirt to cover all of her skin, and then her giant, hot-pink floppy sun hat. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” I offered as I strode toward the tent with Maisie in my arms.

“What’s that?”

“I’ll agree not to drop you if you agree to keep your hat from blowing off.”

“Deal!” She giggled, a sound I decided was only outranked on my list of the best sounds ever by her mother’s laugh.

Some of the other team moms and dads called out greetings, and I answered with a smile that I hoped didn’t look forced, knowing I was damn lucky to have a place in Maisie’s and Colt’s lives, no matter how small. That role came with dealing with other parents, and I was working on it. Every practice the small talk got an ounce easier, the smiles a little less fake, and I started to see the other parents as individuals and not just…people.

I settled Maisie into the camping chair Ella had set up, and then propped her feet in a smaller one that served as a footrest. Seeing the small shiver that ran over her, I quickly pulled the blanket from the wagon and laid it over Maisie’s legs.

“You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. “Just a little cold.”

I tucked the blanket around her, and we settled in to watch the game. Ella started out as one of those quiet moms, more than a little camera happy but reserved in her commentary. By the second half of the game, she was full-on shouting for Colt as he scored a goal.

The transformation was hilarious and sexy as hell.

Or maybe that was the view of those mile-long legs in her shorts. Either way, it took a great deal of my concentration to keep my hands off the soft skin just above her knee. Damn, I wanted her. Wanted every aspect of her—her laughter, her tears, her kids, her body, her heart. I wanted everything.

Lucky for me, my craving for her physically was second only to my need to take care of her, which kept my libido in check.

For the most part.

Yeah, okay, that was a lie. The more time we spent together, the closer I came to kissing her just to see how she tasted. I wanted to kiss her until she forgot everything that weighed her down, until she’d forgive me for the lie I was living.

And the longer I kept my secret, the further away it felt. The more I dreamed of the possibility that she might let me stay in her life as just Beckett.

Not that I wasn’t tempted to tell her who I really was. To tell her how her letters had saved me, that I’d fallen in love with her by her words alone. But then I realized how far I’d dug into her life—picking up groceries, taking Colt to soccer, hanging out with Maisie when she was too sick to go to the main house. The moment I told Ella who I really was, what I’d done, she’d kick me out and be on her own again, and I’d promised to show up for her and the kids. Keeping that promise meant not giving her a reason to throw me out. Telling her was selfish, anyway. It would only hurt her.

Chaos had no chance of helping Ella—of being there for her. Not after what had happened. I’d have to wait until Maisie was in the clear before coming clean to Ella. Then the choice would be hers.

“What is that kid doing? Isn’t that illegal? He can’t trip him like that!” Ella shouted.

“I think it was more of mutual clumsiness, there,” I countered.

“Oh my God, he did it again! Get him, Colt! Don’t you let him do that to you!”

“You know, he’s only six,” I said, sweet as cherry pie.

She slowly turned to me with a glare and an openmouthed scoff. “Whatever.”

I laughed and for the first time realized that I was utterly, completely content with my life. Even if I never got Ella, never tasted her mouth, never touched her skin, never kept her in bed on a rainy Sunday morning or heard her say the three little words I was starved for, this moment was enough.

Glancing back at Maisie in the shade, I saw her eyes closed, and the deep, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. She was asleep with Havoc curled up under her outstretched legs. If she was already this exhausted, how the hell was she going to withstand another round of chemo next week?

“Oh no…no, no,” Ella muttered, and I turned my attention back to the field.

The other team slipped past Colt, then the defense, and scored to win the game.

Well. Shit.

My heart ached when I saw Colt’s face, the way his shoulders fell. But he shook hands with the opposing team like the sport he was, and then sat on the bench long after the coach finished the post-game pep talk. Seeing some of the other dads cross the field, I looked over at Ella, who looked almost as disappointed as Colt.