“Too bad Miller couldn’t make it.”
If my truck reacted the same way my body does at hearing her name, we’d be parked, frozen in the middle of this street.
“I don’t want to talk about her.” My tone snaps.
I don’t want to think about her. I don’t want to miss her. That’s all I’ve been able to do for the past thirteen days.
Out of my periphery, Isaiah’s usual confidence falters. He’s a sensitive soul and I know that better than anyone.
“Sorry,” I exhale. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just exhausted and I really fucking miss her.”
“She misses you too, Kai.”
My attention jerks to him before refocusing on the drive ahead of me. “Are you assuming, or do you know that as fact?”
My brother hesitates. “Fact.”
“Have you talked to her?” Because what the fuck? I haven’t even spoken to the woman I’m helplessly in love with.
He throws his hands up in admission. “Yes, okay? I’ve talked to her every day since she left, but I wasn’t doing it to go behind your back. Before she left, she asked me to keep her updated on Max. So that’s what I’ve been doing.”
She wanted to be kept up to date on my son? Of course, she did. My girl loves my boy.
“Don’t be mad at me,” Isaiah continues.
I shake my head, trying to come to terms that my best friend has spoken to the woman I’ve spent every one of the last thirteen days torturing myself over not hearing from, not speaking to. “I’m not. I’m glad you’re doing that. She deserves to know how he’s doing.”
“She tries not to, but a couple of times she’s slipped up and asked about you.”
“And what do you say?”
“That you’re thriving. That you’re killing it. That you’re not wallowing in self-pity and don’t have a real questionable eating and sleeping routine at the moment.”
I shoot him with a deadpan glare.
“I tell her that you’re missing her too,” he admits. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Nah, it’s fine. She should know I miss her.”
She should know I don’t know how to do anything but miss her.
Isaiah hesitates, but I can tell from the lingering tension in the car, there’s more he wants to say.
“What is it?” I prompt.
“Everyone is worried about you, Kai. The team, your friends.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. That’s not your responsibility.”
He chuckles without humor. “So that’s your responsibility too? You’ll take care of it like you always do? How about you stop being such a fucking martyr and ask for help, huh?”
His voice raises with frustration, and my wide eyes swing to him once again, only this time in surprise.
“Whoa. What’s up with you, man?”
“I’m frustrated. With you, and with myself for not seeing it sooner. You spent all of your teen years working odd jobs to feed me and never asked me to get my own job to help. You figured out how to get me through high school and into college without a penny to our names by sticking close to home so I could live with you. Then when life throws you new responsibilities”—he gestures to my smiling son in the back seat—“whom yes, we love and are so thankful for, you still can’t ask me for my help.”
“I just . . .” I shake my head. “I didn’t want you to be burdened with any of that. I just wanted my little brother to be happy.”
“And what about you? Why can’t you be happy? Why haven’t you asked me to help out with Max this off-season so you could go spend time with Miller?”
“Because . . .”
Well, I’m not exactly sure why I haven’t.
“God, you’re both so fucking annoying with this constant guilty need to do everything for others.”
“What are you talking about?” Miller’s guilt regarding her adoption isn’t common knowledge, and I sure as hell haven’t shared the information.
“You and Miller, you both do things out of guilt and it’s annoying. You, because you didn’t want me to feel the effects of Mom dying and Dad leaving. And Miller because she’s trying to do all these big things to make up for Monty not being able to.”
“She told you that? About their relationship?”
“No, this guy on Atlanta’s staff was going in on her at Family Day a couple of weeks ago. It was weird, like he was mad all these years later because Monty quit and he kind of blamed it on her. I swear, Kai, there was a part of her that was hesitating about leaving the next day. I saw it, but I think that conversation solidified her decision to go back to work.”
And just like that, a pathetic amount of hope blooms.
Hope that’s irresponsible because it doesn’t change anything about our situation. Miller is gone and I’m here.
“And also,” he continues. “I’m kind of grouchy because I haven’t gotten laid in almost two months. I totally get why you used to be such a grumpy dick. Becoming a changed man fucking sucks.”
I huff a laugh, the tension drifting away until my eyes fall to the back seat where Max is.
“You’d really help me out with him during the off-season so I could figure out a time to go see Miller?”
He scoffs with a smile. “Of course, Kai. I’d do anything for you. You’re my brother.”
“Let’s just . . .” I shake my head, more hope than I’ve felt in two weeks flowing through me. “Let’s just get through this season and we can figure out the rest after.”
“Deal.”
I sneak a peek in his direction. “Love you, Isaiah.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. “Love you too.”
There’s not much room to park at Ryan and Indy’s house. Even though the guest list is small, it’s still much bigger than their driveway allows, so I leave the truck a couple of blocks away and the three of us make the walk to their house.
There are caterers and coordinators buzzing around. Though this ceremony is going to be intimate, it’s clear that no expense was spared.
We make our way to the backyard, where a flower arch acts as the centerpiece for the ceremony. White chairs flank either side, leaving a center aisle that’s also entirely covered in pink and purple flower petals.
The backyard screams Indy, all bright, feminine colors.
There doesn’t seem to be set sides, so we pick a spot three rows back and wait for the ceremony to begin. Max sits on my lap in his little dress shirt and bow tie, smiling and waving at the handful of people who come up to say hi to him.
I recognize most of the people here. Some of Ryan’s teammates I’ve met at gatherings at his house. One of Zanders’ teammates and his wife who have been there too. Both Ryan and Indy’s parents who I’ve come to know.
Lastly, there’s a man standing to the right side of the flower arch, but not at the center where you’d expect the officiant to be.
The music begins and Ryan is the first one out, finding his way to the center of the arch. Contrasted by the lavender and pastel pinks behind him, Ryan wears all black. Black shoes, black suit. Black tie.
It couldn’t be more fitting for him.
The crowd cheers when Ryan takes his place, and he offers a small fist pump in response, setting the tone for the casualness of their day.
Zanders and Ethan, one of Ryan’s teammates, take their place up front standing behind him.
From my lap, my son waves at them and they each offer excited waves back.
Then the music shifts and all our attention slides to the back door of the house and, when it opens Rio, wearing a lavender suit, white shirt, and a lavender tie, struts out as if this day is for him, and him alone.
The crowd erupts as he slowly makes his way down the aisle.
My attention drifts back to Ryan at the front who is simply standing there, shaking his head with a not-so-suppressed smile on his lips.