Page 27 of The Curveball
“What about you, what’s your favourite place you’ve traveled?” I ask, sipping my coffee. His head drops slightly as he stares at his hands on the table, and the sadness I’ve seen twice now from him returns.
“Haven’t been to many places, it was too hard to travel when my siblings were in school. We went camping over summer breaks, and one year our aunt and uncle, who live in Montreal, invited us out for a visit. But that’s it.”
I set my coffee down and lean forward, this time initiating contact by covering his hands in mine. He opens his grip, and it feels natural to slide my palm into his. “What about your parents?”
He clears his throat and stares down at our hands.
“They, ah, they died eight years ago. It’s just been me and the twins ever since.”
“Oh Brady,” I murmur, my heart aching with the all-too-familiar grief of losing a parent. “I’m so sorry.”
He tries to smile. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
“Still. I know how much it hurts.” My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “I lost my mom, too.”
I look down at our joined hands, grateful for that connection as I prepare to be vulnerable. I don’t talk about my mother very often, losing her was too painful.
“Right before I graduated from high school, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was pretty advanced and aggressive. I put everything on hold, and focused on her treatment, on caring for her as best I could. We lived up in the Yukon at the time, and health care up there was pretty shitty, so there were a lot of trips down to bigger hospitals in British Columbia, but it quickly became clear that her options were limited.” I suck in a breath, blinking back tears.
Without saying a word, Brady stands again and then slides onto the bench next to me, pulling me into his side with one arm over my shoulders.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he says quietly, and for just a moment, I let myself sink into the comfort and security of his embrace.
“It’s okay, I want you to know.”
“Okay. Mind if I sit here while you talk?” he asks, and all I can do is nod. When was the last time someone offered me such basic comfort and affection?
Drawing from the strength he’s offering, I take another deep breath and swipe away the tears that have started to track down my cheeks. “It was quick. She died four months after her diagnosis. It was mid-August. I gave myself the fall to mourn her, then moved to Edmonton and started nursing school in January. Assoon as I graduated, I got hired by a travel nursing company and that was that.”
I grab my cup of decaf coffee and take a sip. It’s starting to go cold, but there’s enough heat to warm me up a little.
Brady doesn’t say anything right away, but he’s close enough that I can sense when he sucks in a breath.
“I’m so sorry, Sage. I know the pain of losing a parent, how devastating that is. I had my siblings, but it sounds like?—”
“Like I was alone,” I interrupt with a jerk of my head. “Yeah, it was just me and Mom, and then she was gone. I had some friends, people around town who helped me out where they could, but no other family. Never knew my dad.” I shrug.
“Our kid will never have to feel that way. They have a family who will love them and be there for them. I swear.”
“Will you tell me more about your siblings?”
Brady leans back against the booth but doesn’t move his arm from my shoulder. I like how it feels there, possibly too much.
“Yeah, of course. They’re pretty awesome. And I don’t take any credit for it. Blair’s a firecracker, she’ll talk your damn ear off. But she’s crazy smart and so creative. She wants to be a fashion designer or a music teacher. Honestly, she could probably do both.” He grins fondly. “Barrett’s basically her opposite. He doesn’t talk much, he’s way more quiet and steady. But still insanely smart. He’s trying to decide between a business degree or political science. They’re good kids.”
“You miss them, don’t you,” I say quietly and his hand that had been lightly stroking my skin pauses.
“Yeah, I do. It’s been just the three of us for so long. It’s weird not having them around.” The love he has for his brother and sister is so evident, it makes my heart ache. And another piece of my defense crumbles to dust.
Our food arrives, and I take the interruption as a chance to quickly wipe my tears and shift slightly away from Brady. He takes the hint, and as soon as the waitress has left, moves back to his seat across from me. But the compassion in his expression doesn’t falter as he looks at me.
“You don’t have to be alone anymore, either, Sage. I’ll be here for the baby and for you, if you’ll let me.”
The steady tone of his voice, his warm gaze on me, and the calm confidence he’s projecting settle over me.
He’s offering everything I could want for my child. And maybe for myself as well.
All I have to do is trust that every word he says is true.
