Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Suddenly Colby threw both arms into the air and let out an earsplitting whoop. I glanced back down at the match just in time to see the ref call it in Ben’s favor.
Ben looked up at the stands, finding us immediately and giving us a thumbs-up.
I gave him a thumbs-up back while Colby screamed, “Yay, Ben! I knew you could take him!”
Ben beamed at us. The first genuine smile I’d seen on his face since his parents’ death. I never knew a smile could make me feel so horrible, but it did. Because he deserved to smile like that all the time.
Colby sat back down and smacked me on the thigh. “I’m killing that kid.”
“What? What happened?”
“You didn’t see that? Ben went to go shake that kid’s hand, and the kid gave him a shove!”
I was on my feet instantly. “Where is he?”
I sounded like Batman, my voice deep, my expression murderous.
Colby’s eyebrows shot up. “I think I like this version of you best.”
Rage clouded my vision as I zeroed in on the pint-size punk. Before I knew what I was doing, I was stomping down the bleachers and over to the cocky little shit.
He was talking with his friends, and they were all yukking it up and congratulating him on getting in the last move on Ben. Their coach looked on, a smug smile on his face.
I’d deal with the coach later, but first I tapped the little shit on the shoulder. The kid was barely past my waist, but when he turned and looked up he was all puffed-up bravado. “What?”
“First off, you don’t say, ‘What’ to an adult, you show respect, second, if someone offers to shake your hand, you shake their damn hand!”
“Sir,” the coach intervened. “You can’t be out on the floor.”
“One minute.” I held up my hand. “We’re talking.”
“Sir.” Another coach approached, and then Ben was at my side.
“Uncle Rip, you can’t be on the floor during matches.”
“Apologize,” I said to the kid.
The kid sighed and looked at Ben. “Your dad’s weird.”
“He’s not my dad,” Ben said. “My dad’s in heaven. But this is my Uncle Rip, and he likes math!”
Math? Really? Was math my strongest attribute?
“Oh.” The kid frowned. “Sorry ’bout your dad.”
“Thanks,” Ben said.
“Sir, you’re going to need to come with me.” A guy in a security uniform approached from the right.
I held up my hands. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving.”
“Yes, you are.” He jerked his head toward the door. “You can wait outside.”
“You’re kicking me out?” I asked incredulously, and then I realized every single person in the gym was staring at me: kids, parents, teachers, and even Colby, but she was smiling and gave me a thumbs-up as if to say, Good job.
“Fine,” I grumbled, and I made my way toward the door with Ben on my tail and Colby and Viera joining me from the bleachers.
Once we were all outside, Colby cleared her throat. “So… you know I’m never going to let you live it down, right? Getting kicked out of a kids’ sporting event?”
I hung my head. “I’m aware.”
“But,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder, “I’m proud of you for sticking up for Ben. You’re a good uncle.” She squeezed. “Now who wants ice cream?”
The kids cheered.
And for some reason, all I kept thinking about was the loss of her hand on my shoulder when she lifted it, and the compliment she’d just given me, and how it made me feel like I was on top of the world.
THIRTEEN
Colby
It was late by the time we got home after ice cream, and I still had to write a blog post before I went to bed.
“Upstairs, kids,” Rip said as we walked into the dark kitchen. “Brush your teeth and put on your pajamas. We’ll both be up in a little bit to put you to bed.”
“Can we sleep in the big bed again?” Ben asked in a sweet little voice. “Please?”
We were seriously creating some bad habits.
“Please, please, please,” Viera mimicked him. “It smells like Mommy and Daddy in that room.”
My throat got thick with emotion as I watched the look of horror pass across Rip’s face.
“Sure, but just one more time,” he said in a subdued tone, and I was thankful he’d answered because there was no way I could speak.
I had a feeling that promise wasn’t going to stick, but I didn’t say anything. Both kids sprinted up the stairs in a flurry of movement and stomps.
“That was nice of you,” I whispered into the darkness. Neither of us moved to turn on the lights.
He was still, staring at the stairway, when I came up behind him and touched his arm. “Rip?”
“I miss them.” His voice was barely audible.
It was the first time he’d offered it up without prompting. Apparently he did have a heart in that perfect body of his.