Page 87 of Falling Back to You

“Me? I have you. What more could I ask for?” Ozzie asked.

Maple looked at me. All of Hume knew about the Dial and Ozzie lore, including our daughter.

“Did we just get clocked by an eight-year-old?” Oz asked.

“It certainly feels that way.”

“All done,” Maple said. “That will be twenty thousand dollars.”

“Put it on my tab.” Ozzie stood with a grunt before extending his hand to help me to my feet. “Let’s make some popcorn and watch your favorite movie. What’s it called again… Last Train to Busan?”

“No.” Maple giggled.

“Dial, help me out here.”

“I think her favorite movie is Sister Act,” I said.

“Wrong again,” Maple replied.

“So, it’s not Goonies,” Ozzie offered.

“No, it’s Twitches.”

“Oh, that’s right.” I pretended to knock myself on the forehead with my palm.

“How could I forget Twitches? I’ve only watched it one hundred and fifty-seven times,” Ozzie teased.

“Momma, can we put candy in the popcorn?” Maple asked.

“Yeah, can we, Mom?” Ozzie said, imitating Maple’s excited voice.

“Yes.”

While Oz and Maple worked on the snacks, I prepared the bedroom. Maple had requested we watch her favorite movie in my room, claiming it was cozy and dark enough to rival any movie theater. Normally I didn’t allow eating in bed, but it was a sleepover, and rules were meant to be broken.

When they joined me, Maple climbed in first and I set a TV tray over her legs. Ozzie added the bowl of popcorn with M&M’s and drink tumblers to the tray. My only demand was that all liquids be sealed—I could vacuum up crumbs, but a damaged mattress would kill the vibe.

Oz and I climbed in on either side of Maple. My queen bed was roomy when it was just Maple and I, but with Oz it was a tight squeeze. I suggested Maple scooch over to give her dad more room.

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me—this is perfect,” he said.

Maple was glued to the screen from the moment the movie started, like this was her first viewing. Ozzie stretched his arm over the bank of pillows and his hand found my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as he massaged my muscles, which had been tight since we’d all climbed in bed. I didn’t know what we were doing, but I liked where it was headed. For the longest time I’d told myself that we couldn’t try again. But here we were, trying.

One time I’d broken up with Oz at the drive-in, telling him it was over, and I never wanted to see him again. Which was stupid, because we went to the same school, shared the same friends and some of the same classes. When he dropped me home, I cried myself to sleep. But come Monday morning, Oz was sitting in his truck outside my house, waiting to take me to school. And when I hopped into his cab, a sense of relief washed over me. We’d fallen in love as kids, and now we needed to learn how to love as adults.

Halfway through the movie, both Maple and Ozzie had fallen asleep. I’d known there was no way she was making it to eleven; between the birthday festivities and running around with friends, she’d tuckered herself out. And Oz had been up since before the sun, tending to his horses. Any other night, he’d have been in bed hours ago. I, on the other hand, couldn’t get my brain to shut down. All I could think about was that kiss, and his hands, and how I wanted more of him all over me.

Crawling out of bed, I made sure not to wake them as I tiptoed downstairs. I needed a distraction. Scanning the living room, I noticed the candy wrappers and open board games and decided to clear them away.

Today we’d felt like a happy family. Which scared me, because now that I’d had a brief taste of what life could be like, I would only crave it more. And when it didn’t work—because face it, the possibility of my screwing this all up was great—I’d be disappointed.

When we’d split up, I was still so young that I didn’t have a clue who I was without Oz by my side. I’d spent years trying to prove I wasn’t crazy, or an unfit mother. No one ever called me that, but sometimes silence spoke volumes. The way Edison and Cy would walk on eggshells around me. My mother always stopping by for visits or offering to spend the night when it was my week to take care of Maple. And then there was the rumor, which still occasionally circulated around town, that I’d tried to hurt Maple when she was a baby, which was absolutely ridiculous.

And don’t get me started on acquaintances and the close family friends who, over the years, had casually suggested that Ozzie and I try to make it work. Like, gee, thanks, why didn’t I think of that? As if what had transpired between us was all one big misunderstanding. Oz was my partner until he decided to stand by while the nurses dragged me away. And I wasn’t saying I hadn’t needed help, because I one hundred percent had. It was how it happened that still pissed me off.

I needed to believe this time it could be different, because that kiss had opened a floodgate of emotions. When you’d loved someone for as long and as deeply as I’d loved Oz, those feelings didn’t go away. You learned how to live with them, pretend, lie, avoid, but you never stopped feeling them.

“What are you doing?”