“You into track and field in school?” I ask Lauren’s son as I sit on the bench and attach my blade.

“Nah, I used to but I don’t anymore.” he shrugs.

“Do you play any sports?” I secure the prosthesis and check it over.

“Yeah, I still play football a lot. I wanna get on the school team when I get to middle school. I’m pretty good,” he says, proudly squaring his shoulders back in a move I’ve seen Lauren do a hundred times.

I’ve never had much experience with kids. When my brother, Ben, was killed in the attack on the twin towers, my chances of becoming an uncle died along with him. So, I wasn’t sure how this was going to go today. However, talking with Chris is easy. Even though he’s only nine, I feel like I’m chatting with an old friend. Something about the way he talks, it’s familiar. I guess that’s to be expected from Lauren’s child though.

“I love football. What’s your team? The Broncos?”

“Yeah, but I also like the Seahawks,” his eyes shine.

“Well, ya got good taste then. Ok, so whaddya say you and I hit the track for a little race? I’ve gotta warn you, I’m not one of those guys that’s going to go easy on you because of your age. I’d get prepared to eat a little dust,” I throw a little smack talk his way.

“As if! Even if you didn’t have that thing,” he points to my blade, “I’d still beat someone as old as you!” And he chucks it right back. I like this kid.

“Christopher! Mack’s, I mean, Captain Forrester’s prosthetic isn’t called ‘that thing’. Don’t be rude!” Lauren interrupts.

It gives me an excuse to stop and check her out. She’s wearing spandex again, and I’ve been trying to keep my eyes off of her out of respect for her kid. But, damn, if her ass looked any better it would be art. I’d have to throw the boy some change for the bus so I could show her just how much I appreciate the masterpiece she is.

Focus.

Right. Track, Chris, race. I got this.

“Don’t worry about it, Lauren. It doesn’t matter what he calls it, because I’ll still kick his … butt in the race with it.” I smirk at Chris and he’s returning my smirk right back at me.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see,” he puffs out his chest and we walk up to the track.

Lauren stays on the bench, which is really for the best. It’s always a constant struggle with my self-control to be around her. I don’t know if it’s the talk we had in the stairwell, or me hanging out with Chris, but with the way she’s been looking at me.… Let’s just say, my self control would be bleeding out in a shallow grave if her son wasn’t here.

Chris and I take our positions, lining up beside each other on the asphalt. The kid’s got confidence, I can see that. His swagger reminds me of myself at his age. I bet he’s got all the girls on the school yard falling all over him. Well, he would if he didn’t get kicked out of school.

“You ready?” I look over at him. He’s got his game face on. He’s been blessed with his mother’s skin tone and the same stubborn look of determination she gets when she’s trying to prove me wrong.

“You know it,” he answers.

“Ok, we’ll race to that oak tree. Sound good?” I point to the marker at the track’s midpoint.

“Why don’t we just do a full lap?”

You have to admire his bravado.

“I’ll beat you going to the tree first, then, if you want a chance to redeem yourself, we can race as far as you want afterward. Ok?”

Chris rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Whatever, I’ll wait for you at the tree then.”

Yep, I really like this guy.

“We’ll see. On your mark, get set, go!” I yell and we break into a sprint. Chris is out in front of me, pumping his arms and pushing hard.

I adjust my gait for the springy bounce of my blade. I’m still not totally used to it yet. The kid is fast; I’ll give him that. But, I’m faster.

Sucking oxygen deep into my lungs, I propel myself forward until Chris and I are neck and neck. For a split second, it almost feels like neither of us are moving at all. We’re perfectly in step beside each other, making it look like the world is rushing by us, instead of us rushing through it.

“Meep, meep!” I do my best roadrunner impression, like I used to back in my grade school days when I was about to make my opponent eat my dust. Not that someone Chris’s age knows who the roadrunner is.

I pull forward and give everything I have to put some distance between us. Chris is right on my heel though. He’s relentless. Someone has been taking their Flintstone vitamins.

With one last push, I manage to put about a foot of space between us and raise my arm in victory as I soar pat the oak tree. I did it! That was closer than I expected.

Chris and I slow our run into a slow jog, a speed walk, and finally a normal walking pace. I’m trying not to suck wind, meanwhile, Chris is completely fine. He’s not even breathing hard.

“Ok, you got me,” he smiles. “I can’t believe you can run that fast with that thing. I mean, that prosthetic,” he corrects himself.

“Yeah, once you learn how to use it, it’s just as good as having both legs.” I breathe in deep and try to slow my heart back down.

“But, wasn’t it hard to learn how to use that? I mean, running again and all that?” He looks up at me from the side of his eye, like he’s not sure if he should broach the subject.

I was hoping he would.

“It was, Chris. Probably one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life. Physically anyway,” I add.

“How’d you get so fast on it? I really thought I had this in the bag.” He looks me straight in the eye this time, more confident in his questions now.

“You know, it took a long time,” I admit. “When I first lost my leg, I didn’t even really want to walk again,” I confess one of my darker moments to him.

“What? Why?”

“Cause, I was pissed off. I lost something that meant a lot to me and I was angry at the world that I could never get it back.”

Chris nods silently and watches the track in front of us.

“But then, I saw some veterans who also lost limbs in the war. I saw some who had moved on and learned how to live again and I saw some who didn’t. Let me tell you, the guys that didn’t, well, they may have only lost a leg or an arm or something, but then they let the anger about it take the rest of them.” I look over at Chris, he’s still watching the track but I can tell he’s listening to every word.

“They were still living and breathing, but they might as well have had tombstones hanging around their necks where their dog tags used to be. They let that anger kill them inside. So, I did my physio and trained and followed your mother’s program here,” I look up as we’re approaching Lauren on the bench and smile her way. My heart speeds up again when she returns it.

“And now look at me. I’m kicking a nine-year-old’s butt in a foot race.” I grin at him.

He laughs and I hope my message got through. “Well, I don’t know about that. But you did win. Barely.” He smiles back.

As we close in on the bench, Lauren stands up to meet us. “What happened out there? I thought you were gonna win at first,” she puts an arm around her son’s shoulders and gives him a quick squeeze.

“Ahhh, he just got lucky,” Chris brushes her off, but shoots his mom a grin.

Lauren looks so happy for once. It’s radiating from her.

“That’s not what it looked like from here,” she points at the bench.

“He almost had me. Honestly, I had to really dig deep to push past him,” I come to Chris’s rescue. I don’t want him leaving here with a bruised ego.

“See?” He looks up at Lauren, vindicated.

“Hey, Chris,” I sit down on the bench to change my blade to my regular prosthetic. “I’d like to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.” The kid sits down beside me on the bench as Lauren stands a few feet away.

“What’s that?”

“Well, since you’re the man of your house, I was hoping to talk to you about taking your mom on a date.” I watch as his eyebrows shoot skyward. Hopefully the word “date” doesn’t upset him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, see the thing is, I have these tickets to the Buffaloes game this Saturday and I was wondering if you’d mind if I took her out. I mean, if you’re interested, I have an extra couple tickets. You could come as our chaperone, if you want?”

“To the Buffaloes game?”

“Yeah, I’ve even got a ticket that you can bring a friend with, if you want.”

Chris’s face looks like he just got the best birthday and Christmas gift all rolled into one.

“Yeah! That would be awesome!” He jumps up, springing toward Lauren.

“Mom! Can we go? Can we?” He jumps from foot to foot and Lauren giggles.

“Yeah, we can go,” she agrees and Chris gives a whoop, pumping his fist in the air. “But that extra ticket is going to go to Chelsea,” she interrupts his dance. “You’re still in trouble, so you won’t be bringing any of your friends,” she adds sternly.

“Ok, ok. But we can go, right?” He looks over at her and she nods back. “Thanks, Captain America! I mean, Mack,” Chris smiles at me.

“No problem, kid.”

With my blade changed we all head back to the hospital, but now Chris is practically bounding back to the front doors, leaving us in his dust.

“Hey, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.” Lauren gives my hand a quick squeeze and between that and her smile, it’s all the thanks I need.

“I told you I’d help,” I nod toward Chris.

“You’re a man of your word,” she looks at the ground, biting her perfect lip. God, I want to kiss her.

“Always,” I answer. “So, uh, about the game on Saturday?”

“Yeah?” She looks up.

“What time do you wanna come pick me up?” I smirk.

Lauren laughs and it’s an easy, happy sound that reminds me of a dream.

A dream come true.