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Could my mystery man be Samuel? Or was running into someone with similar eyes merely a sign that it was time to let him go?
After all, this was why I’d moved to California. To finally move on with my life. To give myself the fresh start I needed.
The last thing I needed was to fall back into my old patterns, all because I saw a man who bore practically no resemblance to Samuel doing a crossword puzzle.Hell, even his voice was different — harsh and curt with not so much as a hint of the smooth tone that once lulled me to sleep.
“It wasn’t him,” I told myself, repeating the mantra as I navigated through the weekend traffic in downtown San Diego.
By the time I pulled into the stadium parking lot, I’d essentially expunged the idea from my mind, the bustling energy of game day replacing my unease.
I’d always loved soccer. In another life, I would have loved to play professionally.
Unfortunately, I’d been born with a heart defect that required surgery when I was mere weeks old. While I was able to live a relatively normal life, thanks to early surgical prevention, I did have some limitations. And those limitations included not putting too much stress on my heart. At least not to the extent required to make it in the pros.
Instead, I pushed myself to do the next best thing. Be on the training team as a physical therapist. It was the perfect way for me to put my love of the game to use in a professional capacity without risking my health.
Approaching the therapy room in the bowels of the stadium, I held my ID card up to the pad, and the door buzzed, granting me entry. The lights flickered to life as I walked toward my desk, pulling my laptop out of my bag so I could review the notes I’d made during yesterday’s practice.
“Knock, knock,” a voice sang mere seconds after I settled in.
I looked away from the screen to see the office assistant, Abby, standing in the doorway, pushing a rolling cart.
“Got some mail for you.”
When she grabbed a box with the familiar logo of my mother’s bakery emblazoned on its side, my breath caught.
All I could do was stare at the ominous package as she approached, feeling like the room was closing in around me. She set the box on the corner of my desk, then left without another word.
My heart thrashed in my ears, my stomach churning. I didn’t want to open it. Wanted to throw it away and pretend I never saw it.
But the last thing I needed on a game day was a distraction.
If I didn’t open this box, I would most certainly be distracted.
I may be distracted anyway, but this way I’d know what this box contained.
Opening the top drawer of my desk, I pulled out a letter opener and sliced through the tape. With trembling hands, I removed the white bakery box from the package and set it in front of me, a glimmer of hope filling me when I felt its weight. It was much heavier than the package I’d received yesterday. Maybe it reallywasfrom my mother.
I cut through the twine and lifted the lid, exhaling in relief to find a note from my mama and stepdad wishing me luck, as well as a few dozen cookies.
Even better, they were my favorite flavor —peanut butter and jelly.
The sweet aroma wafted out of the box, making my stomach growl. I grabbed one and took a bite, moaning in pleasure.
“Sorry to bother you again,” Abby said, peeking her head into my office. “I missed this one. It was buried on the bottom.”
I waved her in and she handed me an overnight envelope.
“Would you like a cookie?” I gestured toward the open box. “They’re from my mom’s bakery. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried one of her peanut butter and jelly cookies.”
“Those smell amazing.” She grabbed one and took a bite. “And taste even better.”
“They’re my favorite.”
“They might be mine, too.” With a smile, she retreated from my office as I pulled the tab on the envelope, expecting to find the reports I’d requested from one of the players’ outside physical therapists.
Instead, the only thing it contained was a necklace exactly like the one I’d received last night.
ChapterSix
