“Mom, I said that I was sorry,” Luke groaned, as we carried the last two bags in from the truck.
“Honestly, Luke, you have to be more responsible. I can’t do everything around here by myself. We agreed that I wasn’t going to be a helicopter parent. You’re going to be seventeen next month. You need to be accountable for your actions.”
“Yeah, a seventeen-year-old with no license and at a new school.”
“We’ve had this conversation, Luke,” I sighed. “You’re going to wait until the spring.”
“Mom, stop punishing me because you’re afraid what will happen if I start driving.” My son lifted his brown eyes meeting mine; disappointment clearly etched on his face. More and more each day he developed his father’s features.
He wasn’t wrong, the reason for him not having his license was entirely my fear. I still wanted to think it over, but perhaps he could take the driving tests next month.
“What if I go back and talk to Coach Hamilton myself this afternoon?”
I let out a deep breath as I unpacked the groceries. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea. He’s not going to let you into the camp. He was quite adamant about that fact.”
“Yeah, probably because you insulted him,” he shot back. “Coach Hamilton is a big deal, and now he hates me. I’ll never get a starting position.”
I tossed him the box of Cheerios to put in the pantry. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, there’s no way he hates you. Missing one training camp that isn’t even a requirement can’t keep you from working hard and earning a starting position.”
He let out a sigh, barely tolerating me. “Now, what am I going to do all week?”
I rested my hip against the counter. “You can do anything, but watch TV and play video games. How about clean out the garage? Clean your room. Go on a hike. Ride your bike. Read a book down by the lake. Call a friend. Get out of here and enjoy the beautiful day.”
“Okay, okay, I got it,” he grumbled and shuffled out the door. “I’ll be out of your hair the rest of the day.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I called after him. The slamming door confirmed that he was upset with me about losing his television and gaming privileges.
God knows that I wasn’t winning any mother of the year awards, but my kid needed to learn some responsibility. Part of me wondered if Luke’s father and brother were here would he be adjusting differently. I peered through my blinds to check on Luke. He was cleaning up the yard removing garbage and sticks.
Good kid. Smiling, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and then poured some lemonade. I retreated upstairs to my bedroom, replaying my conversation with Coach Hamilton. My thoughts shifted to his green eyes and the perfectly manicured scruff that covered his face. I’d seen his picture in the papers and on the television. Wyatt Hamilton was far more handsome in person. He stirred an avalanche of emotions inside me. I think I kept talking to him, kept pushing him earlier because I actually felt something again. If I was being honest, it felt good—too good.
Since my husband, Carter, died, I hadn’t thought much about men. Aside from swooning over the dad on the show, This is Us. I rarely thought about moving on, even though my sister, Ryleigh, tried desperately to encourage me to start dating. My focus for the last year and a half had been Luke and making sure that he was growing up to be the kind of man his father had been.
I flopped back into my reading chair. It felt wrong to have these thoughts about another man. Carter and I were high school sweethearts. We met my freshman year, his junior year. I never dated anyone but Carter. He was my first everything. We got married shortly after he graduated college and then I got pregnant with the twins. I was weeks away from turning twenty-one when I found out that I was going to be a mom.
We went from being kids ourselves to having not one, but two kids. It was all kinds of complicated, but we made it work. Somehow we survived, until we didn’t—half of my family taken from me in the blink of an eye.
My chest tightened as memories came flooding back. No parent should ever have to bury their child. No one should be widowed at thirty-four years old, but that was my unfortunate reality. Dreams shattered. Lives snuffed out before their time. A family forever left with such unimaginable loss.
Ghosts. Luke and I were living with ghosts, which is why we moved away from Butte. I couldn’t continue living in the house that Carter and I made a home because I wasn’t living. I watched everyone else live their perfect happy lives while I cried for my dead husband and dead son.
We’d planned out our lives, and our futures as well as our sons. I couldn’t do it without Carter. I didn’t want to do any of it without him. He was my rock. He was my partner. How would I go on without him?
I had to go on. I had to for one reason—Luke, my living son.
That day, I lost a husband and a son. Luke lost his father, his brother, and his best friend. Nights were the worst. From my bedroom, I could hear Luke crying. Those cries felt like knives slicing my skin open, cracking my ribs, and pulling my heart from my chest.
Tears threatened at the back of my throat as I tried to stop the sounds of my son’s cries and heartbreak from ringing in my ears. As the months went by the pain seemed to lessen, but then I’d hear a song or a familiar scent would hang in the air throwing me into a fit of sobs. Breaking down wasn’t a luxury I often allowed myself, but on our wedding anniversary, I did. I shouldn’t have gone to work that day, everyone in the whole damn restaurant probably thought I was nuts.
Speaking of nuts. Coach Hamilton probably thought that I was a little crazy today. I could tell I’d hit a nerve by the way he dismissed me earlier. I really should work on my filter.
I took a sip of lemonade and swiped my iPad to life scanning the latest headlines. Moving had been Luke’s idea. He couldn’t stand walking in the hallways of a school that served as a shrine to his brother. The pain was too much for him. I’d sat in parent-teacher conferences; Logan had been the honor student and Luke was living in his shadow. I knew that Logan had been the better athlete. Luke needed a chance to find out who he was and who he could be.
Within weeks of contacting a realtor, he found a beautiful two-story cabin situated on a large piece of land with sweeping views of the mountains and lake from the front porch and the back deck. On a Sunday afternoon, Luke and I drove out here to look at the place. He fell in love with the big yard, and I fell in love with the custom designed stone and slate shower with a waterfall cascade instead of a nozzle.
Our old home sold in less than a week. I took it as a sign that it was meant to be, everything kind of fell into place without hassle.
It’s been a little over two months since we moved here. Luke has made a few new friends thanks to the first summer school session and the summer sports program at the YMCA. I’ve made zero friends. As much as I hated to admit it, Coach Hamilton was right—I should work on being more social. This is our home now.
My phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number. I popped up from my chair scanning the yard for Luke. My heart rate picked up as the buzzing continued and I didn’t see Luke. I moved to the other side of my room, finally spotting him tossing the football through the old tire swing.
“Hello,” I answered my voice a bit shaky.
“Hannah Richman?” the soft voice asked.
“That’s me.”
“This is Goldie down at Mel’s Restaurant. You filled out an application for employment a few weeks ago. Anyway, we have a spot open if you’d like to pick up some shifts.”
I smiled. “Oh yeah, sure. That’d be fantastic.”
“Great, can you fill out the paperwork tomorrow morning,” she paused, and I heard the rustling of papers in the background. “Say around ten?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll be there. Thank you.”
I ended the call and placed my phone face down on the dresser. It looks like I would have the opportunity to work on my filter and my social skills.