Page 25 of Sweet Redemption

Bodhi lost his mom when he was barely three months old.

What no one wants to say is he’s already scarred for life.

“You know you could come back for dinner.” Gracie holds a sleepy Bodhi against her chest, her blonde hair wrapped around his finger as he clings to his favorite stuffed dinosaur. The same one Uncle Tommy placed in his crib after he was born, which is soft and green with a white t-shirt that proudly displays the Kings football logo in black. His head presses against her shoulder as his pale-green eyes slowly begin drooping. “The twins will be home in an hour and the triplets, right after that. Two more people won’t be a big deal.”

“I appreciate it, sis, but I need to get him home and bathed and fed, or he’s going to fall back asleep now and then never sleep tonight. We’ve got a routine . . .”

“A routine, huh?” She smiles, and a little bit of the stress I’ve been holding onto falls away. “Still weird to think of you as a full-blown adult, Henny.”

“Hey . . . I’ve got a kid, a job, and I’m looking for a mortgage.”

“But—” she argues like I knew she would.

“I can’t stay here forever, Grace. I need my own place.” Renting next to her is great for now. But if Kroydon Hills is my home again and the Philadelphia Revolution is going to be my team hopefully until I retire many, many, many years from now, we need roots of our own. Not my parents’ and not my siblings’. We need something for us.

We need a home.

A life.

At some point, we need to move on and stop just going through the motions.

“Fine. I won’t argue with you for now. How’s Ryker?” she asks as I shoulder Bodhi’s diaper bag and reach for my son. “We’re all worried about him.”

“He’s tough. He’ll get through this,” I offer. Seems like this is the season for a lot of us to be going through hell, and it’s currently my best friend’s turn. “I’m supposed to have lunch with him later this week. I’ll let him know you were asking.”

She gently places Bodhi in my arms and runs her hand over his curls. “Love you, Henny.”

Closing my eyes for a quick minute, I bury my nose in the top of Bodhi’s hair. “Love you too, good twin.”

Gracie’s smile is immediate. “Don’t let Cross hear you saying that.”

“As long as I’m not calling Everly bad twin, he doesn’t give me shit,” I admit, and Gracie lowers her eyes.

“Pretty sure no one gives you shit anymore, Hendrix. Aren’t you tired of everyone walking on eggshells?”

“Fucking exhausted.” I kiss her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

The nice thing about living on this street is the way Kroydon Falls backs up to the house. It’s a great view. Nothing but blue lake and waterfalls behind me. It’s peaceful. Calming. Britt would have loved it. She’d love the swing set in the backyard and the sandbox that surrounds it. She’d have been out here every day having picnics with Bodhi. Feeding him some organic shit that she swore tasted good but really leaned more toward cardboard than delicious.

She’d love the giant race-car bed I got him when we moved here and the bookcase full of all her favorite children’s books that my family gifted her at her shower. She’d be obsessed with how curly his hair has gotten and how pale his eyes are. He has her eyes. Some days, it hurts so much to see him cry because I still remember holding her as she cried. As she made me promise to give him the life she knew she wouldn’t have time to give him.

Cancer is an ugly fucking bitch.

Britt knew . . . She knew she’d never have the time she should have.

The time Bodhi should have had with her.

She made me promise so many damn things.

And I did.

I promised them all. Agreed to them all. How could I not? How do you tell your dying wife no? Your dying best friend? The mother of your child?

Staring up at the moon reflecting along the water, I wish I could tell her to fuck off.

I almost did the night she gave me the box that’s sitting on the table in front of me.

The one full of fucking letters I’ve refused to look at until now.