Page 1 of Over the Line
CHAPTER 1
GARRETT
October
Flying always made me a little nervous, but that wasn’t the reason my heart was in my throat as the plane touched down at Pittsburgh International Airport.
For the entire ninety-minute flight from Chicago, I’d been a mess. Sweaty palms. Pounding pulse. A million worst-case scenarios replaying over and over in my head.
Not because I was scared of the plane going down—I was nervous about how the next week would play out.
As we taxied toward the gate, I sent a text to my son Chris.
Just landed. Meet at baggage claim?
In seconds, he replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
I closed my eyes and pressed my head back against the seat. I had no idea how this week was going to go. We’d been spending a lot of time on the phone and FaceTime in between texting, and he’d sounded excited when we’d made our plans. He even wanted me to come to his home games while I was in town; prior to now, I hadn’t been to any of his pro games because I hadn’t wanted to be a distraction while we were getting back on the rails.
I cringed and gazed out the window, watching the airport draw closer. I’d missed so damn much, and I had no one to blame but myself.
Well, my ex-wife shared some of that blame, but the vast majority of this was on me. So many things I could’ve handled differently. So many times I’d let anger, pettiness, and vindictiveness take the wheel when I should’ve used my damn head, and it had, for far too long, cost me my relationships with all four of my adult kids.
In the years since the divorce, I’d managed to salvage things with Nick, my eldest, and Katie, my youngest. My second, Ally, still wanted nothing to do with me. I hoped to work on that in the future, but for the moment, she’d asked for no contact, and what could I do but respect that boundary?
Chris was my third child, and he hadn’t spoken to me until about two years ago. His younger sister had—on her own—persuaded him to at least have a conversation with me. One conversation had turned into several, and we’d been talking semi-regularly for the past year and a half. Tentatively at first, always with the sound of eggshells straining beneath my weight, we’d reconnected and found our stride. We’d worked through some things, and we were on much better ground now, but there was still a lot to be done. Still so many ways I could fuck this up and wind up estranged from him again like I was from Ally.
It would be Chris picking me up at the airport this afternoon, too. I would finally see him face to face for the first time in over half a decade.
Nervous? Yeah, just a bit.
We reached the gate, and before I knew it, I was deplaning. I sent up a little prayer to anyone who might be listening. Then I followed the other passengers out into the concourse. Outside baggage claim, I paused to check the screen with the carousel numbers, committed mine to memory, and continued toward baggage claim.
Halfway down the escalator, though, my mind went blank.
There he was.
My son.
I’d seen photos of him, and I’d watched him play hockey on TV, but holy shit, there he was—in the flesh.
Hockey had always kept him lean and lanky, but he’d filled out in some ways, too. His baby face was long gone, his skin had cleared up, and he was broader now. He still looked young—he’d just turned twenty-three—but he definitely didn’t look as much like a kid anymore.
Not that I was feeling old or anything, realizing just how much my third child had grown up.
And just how much time I’ve missed.
I shook that thought away. It was time to move forward, not wallow in the recent past.
I stepped off the escalator and approached him. Even as he smiled, I could tell he was still guarded, and I didn’t blame him.
Chris swallowed. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi.” I paused awkwardly, unsure what to do next.
Chris gave a quiet laugh, then stepped closer and hugged me.
Closing my eyes, I returned the embrace and tried not to fall apart right here in the airport. I wasn’t an overly emotional guy—not demonstratively, anyway—but this was my kid. Who I hadn’t seen in six long years.
