Page 61 of Fighting Chance

Pearly white teeth never got me adopted. My good behavior never did, either. I thought if I behaved perfectly people would like me. Parents would want me yet they always returned me likethe dog I felt like that day my mom dropped me on the side of the road. It always came full circle, me being dumped off at the foster home.

I could never escape that hellhole and the matron made sure I knew it.

When I went to college on a sports scholarship, I had the daunting realization that I never did anything for myself. Everything I did was to make others happy, and I never stopped to ask myself whatIneeded to be happy. After that moment, I swung myself around. People might call me an asshole from time to time, but at least I’m not burying my feelings to prioritize others above mine.

I’ve also come to realize that the people who call you a selfish asshole are the ones who are pissed off that you aren’t bending your own happiness to prioritize theirs.

I’ve learned to stay far away from those types of people because my feelings matter just as much as theirs. There’s nothing wrong or inherently “bad” about taking care of myself first, because you can never pour from an empty cup.

There is kindness in showing up for someone when you are whole. They’re not receiving scraps of your attention or pieces of your energy; they’re seeing you at your full capacity.

It’s a lesson I’ll drill into Emmy’s mind.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, giving me pause. Placing the hammer between my feet, I pull it out to find it’s a notification from my security system.

My lips twitch.

Allie waited until nine on the dot.

Laughing to myself, I buzz them in from my phone before making my way over to Emmy, my steps slow. Her lips are moving ever so softly, talking for her Barbies.

I hold my breath, trying to calm the erratic beat as I attempt to hear her over the pounding of it in my ears, but I can’t. I don’t think she’s even making a sound, she’s just mouthing the words.

I’d sell a kidney to hear her play loud and carefree with her dolls.

I don’t have long until Allie comes waltzing through those doors, though, so I shake myself out of it.

“Hey Em, want to take a break? I have someone here that’s really excited to meet you.”

Her dolls slowly lower to the ground as she cocks her head.

“You’ll love them, I promise.”

Clambering to her feet, Emmy rises, leaving all her toys behind except for one. The golden retriever is clutched firmly in her hand. I scoop her into my arms, making my way up the deck stairs just as I hear my front door open and Allie call out.

“Hellooo,” she sings. “Where is my beautiful grandbaby?”

Biting my lip at her choice of words, I walk through the back patio doors as they step into the living room, Allie leading Carlton as she all but bounces on the ball of her toes.

“Dear, maybe don’t force that word onto him.”

She tsks. “He’s just as much my son as Grayson and Drew and that makes her my grandchild.”

Carlton gazes at her adoringly. “I thought we agreed you would ask him first.”

Allie ignores him, her head whipping around, searching, yet not clocking us until I close the door behind me. The click draws Allie’s gaze our way.

Her hands fly to her mouth as she gasps, coming to an abrupt stop and forcing Carlton to follow suit. Although even he looks a bit shell-shocked, and that’s saying something—it takes a lot to ruffle Mr. Crawford’s feathers.

Carlton is the calm to Allie’s frantic energy. They compliment each other well. The only time I’ve seen Carlton truly affected was when Drew died…along with the silence that ensued thereafter from Grayson.

The fact he’s staring at Emmy, his jaw practically unhinged, freaks me out a little.

Tears line Allie’s eyes as I move closer, my hold on Emmy tightening. Her fingers twirl in the back of my hair, a nervous habit I’ve noticed her pick up.

“Emmy,” I say softly, keeping my gaze locked on Allie. “This is your grandma.”

Allie sucks in a sharp breath at the title I happily hand over.