Page 62 of Fighting Chance
Grayson is right—they are my family and I want to give Emmy everything that I was robbed of. There’s no reason for Emmy to call her anything different. One day I’ll tell her that blood doesn’t always mean family, and sometimes the family we choose are the best of all.
But for now, with her young mind, I’ll tell her what Allie is to me—a mom.
It would be a disservice to call her anything but. She’s the only woman in my life who ever deserved the title.
Allie’s arms come out, then drop by her sides as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself. “Can I hold her?” she chokes out.
Emmy is watching Allie with such intensity. I ask, “Do you want to be held?”
She lifts her eyes to mine and I can see she’s unsure.
Allie waves me off. “It’s okay. I’ll get my hugs in soon when she warms up to me, I’m sure. You were similar. My gosh, you put me through hoops as a young boy, Kieran.” She places her bag on the kitchen bench, then turns to Carlton. “Honey, can you give her the presents?”
He shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor as he turns to me. “She looks like you. Like, if we could find a baby photo—” He cuts himself off abruptly at the slip.
I have no baby photos. Not a single documentation of my life before the foster home. My mother left me with nothing but the shabby clothes on my back that day.
Even her face began to fade from my mind when I was eight. Slowly but surely, it got muddled.
At first, it was small.
Were her eyebrows thick or thin? Was her voice raspy and low or was that me remembering a character on TV? Did she have brown hair or black?
The only memories that never faded were the ones I prayed to forget. The ones that would wake me in the middle of the night gasping for air and praying to a God that never once listened to me to take the horrors from my mind.
The happiness faded, but the trauma was burned, ingrained in my mind.
Still to this day I remember it like it was yesterday.
I always wonder why that is, why our minds choose to cling to the worst memories and let the happiest go.
Quickly clearing my throat and trying to eradicate the tightness in my chest, I give Carlton a tight-lipped smile, forcing it to look real at the guilt that’s clearly eating away at him.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll take your word for it.”
He comes up and pats me on the shoulder. “Sorry, son. I just got swept up in the moment and forgot.”
Son.
He’s always called me that, so you’d think my heart would stop skipping a beat every time I hear it.
Allie, sensing the lingering tension, spins on her heel and grabs the bags I didn’t notice until now sitting at Carlton’s feet. She places them on the couch. “I’ve got lots of goodies for you, honey. Do you want to open them?”
Placing Emmy down, I allow her to decide, while keeping a gentle hand on the back of her head. Now I’m the one playing with her soft hair. She peers up at me and at that look I nod, a real smile stretching my lips this time.
“Go see what you got, Em.”
Her little hand lifts in the air between us. Without missing a beat, I clasp it, letting her lead me toward the couch, all of us taking a seat as she climbs up and stares at the presents.
There’s such shock and awe on Emmy’s face I realize with a sudden clarity that I don’t think she’s ever gotten presents before. She’s examining them like she doesn’t know what to do with the wrapping, the bags, and the tissue paper.
I choke on the sudden rush of sadness that hits me. By the fresh tears spilling down Allie’s cheeks that she’s trying to inconspicuously wipe away, she’s noticed it too.
It’s no doubt what I looked like the time Allie bought me my first gift. And like she did that day, she repeats it again, sitting forward and gently showing Emmy how to open gifts.
My chest clenches painfully and before I can lose it over thefact that she’s never received a present before, Carlton wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You’ve got this,” he whispers, his own voice rough.
Nodding, I turn my head toward him and discreetly wipe a tear away before looking back over with a smile. “What did you get, Emmy?”
