Page 19 of The Path to Loving Him
So fucking overwhelmed.
I never thought this was what my life would be like. I had big dreams—dreams that were carving a path I was confident I’d head down. I was going to play professional baseball. I’d live in a big city, away from Almond Bay and the frayed and tattered roots I’ve planted here. But those dreams washed away when I quit baseball, got my teaching degree, and started teaching and coaching in Almond Bay. And then that’s when it all happened.
My eldest sister, Cassidy, lost her husband, leaving her as a young single mom. Given the lack of parents in our lives, I knew it was my time to step up again, so I did. I was there every second I could offer to Cassidy to help with the farm, with the store, with her dreams . . . and with Mac. We grew a sense of routine until that one dark day when Cassidy found out she had stage four breast cancer.
Life as we knew it shut down.
Nothing felt right.
Nothing felt fair.
And as I watched my sister slowly die, I knew that nothing would ever be the same.
“Please, Ryland, please take care of her for me. Give her a beautiful and special life. Teach her everything I would teach her. Love her the way I would love her. And please keep my memory deep in her heart.”
It was the most painful and heartbreaking conversation I’ve ever had. I still remember the way she looked at me from her bed as she held my hand, asking me if I’d take care of her precious baby girl.
Her world.
Who then became mine.
I can still feel the lump in my throat as the heaviest weight was placed on my shoulders. But I made her that promise, and I will live every day preserving that promise.
Mac pulls away from our hug, and she looks at me with a scrunch to her face. “Why is your face all crinkly?”
Got to love kids.
“It’s called getting old. We get crinkles.”
She rolls her eyes cutely and presses the spot between my eyes. “No, right here. You look mad.”
“Oh.” I set her down and pick up her backpack from the ground, only for her to take my hand in hers, a feeling I’m not sure I will ever get used to. “Uh, I’m not mad.”
“Seems like you’re mad.”
“I’m not.” I try to force a smile. “I’m happy, see?”
She glances up at me, studies me for a moment, then says, “You have a nice smile.”
Well, warm my cold, dead heart.
“Not as nice as yours,” I say and squeeze her hand as we head to my truck. “You know, it’s kind of a hot day, don’t you think?”
“Very hot,” she says as she makes a show of panting.
God, she reminds me so much of Cassidy that it hurts at times. From her cute, round face to her mannerisms to her sense of humor . . . it’s insane. It’s like her mother reincarnated, offering me comfort and a polarizing sadness at the same time.
“I’m glad you agree because I was thinking about getting some milkshakes. Want to join me?”
Her eyes light up as she looks at me. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“Yeah!” she cheers. “Can I get a strawberry milkshake?”
“You can get whatever flavor you want,” I say.
“Yay.” She jumps.
