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“Ian?”
At the sound of Sage’s voice, I pulled in a deep breath and called out, “Be right out. Just need to change a second.”
In the closet, I grabbed a clean shirt, tugging off the shirt I’d worked in all day and swapping it out for the clean one. As I came down the hallway, I saw Sage sitting out on the top step of the front porch.
I was still feeling so raw from the entire day. The week, really. But Sage didn’t need to know that, and I made sure I was firmly in control of the pulsing tangle under my ribs before I walked out the front door to join her.
“Where were you all day?” she asked.
“Helping my sisters with stuff,” I told her, easing myself down onto the step. “Your grandpa picking you up soon?”
She smiled. “He’s gonna take us to the bakery downtown for donuts.”
I nodded. “Solid plan.”
She stayed quiet, a slight frown on her face as she stared out into the yard, and I knew her well enough now to realize she was thinking something. For the most part, when I looked at her, all I could see was Harlow. But at moments like this, there was an angle to her mouth, a look in her eyes, and I could see glimpses of some person I’d never know, who was the catalyst to the biggest change in Harlow’s life when we were apart.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked.
After a moment, she said, “My mom is going out to dinner with Coach Collins.” She tapped her shoes on the porch. “Well, it’s a dinner meeting, she said. Does that mean it’s not the same as a date?”
“Fuck if I know.” She cut me a look, and I grimaced. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“She said it wasn’t a date, but…” Sage’s brow furrowed. “He likes her. I can tell. And I think they’re about the same age. I really want her to talk to him about a girls’ team, but then I kept thinking … what if it turns into a date?”
Fuck, what did it say that a really smart ten-year-old and me were both worrying about the same thing? My eyes pinched shut for a moment. This wasn’t about me. No one but Harlow ever came to me to talk things out. Probably because I had no tact and gave shitty advice, but if there was ever a time for me to get it right, it was with this kid.
My fingers drummed rapidly against the side of my thigh. “How do you feel about that? That she’s going out to dinner with your coach?”
Sage didn’t answer right away. “She asked me that too. Said she’d cancel if I was uncomfortable with it.” Then she shrugged. “He’s nice. Funny at practice.”
Yeah, I was sure the guy was a fucking saint who rescued kittens and taught the youth of America. I’m sure they’d erect a statue of him downtown before long. I rolled my lips between my teeth until the urge to punch him passed.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye. “Something’s bothering you, though.”
To my utter horror, Sage started sniffling, her face crumpling. She dashed a clenched fist against her cheek. “No, it’s not.”
“Oh, kid,” I muttered, then I settled my arm around her shoulders.
She leaned into me immediately. This was even worse than when I brought her to school. Tears held a distinctly different weight, and I had no clue what to do. I wasn’t sure of the right way to navigate this thing with her.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure how to navigate it for myself. So I closed my eyes, and I thought about what my dad would do. The hundreds and hundreds of times he’d had to sit with one or more kid who was crying, whether it was from fights or school or stress. It was so easy to remember how he made us all feel when things seemed too big and scary for us to handle.
Maybe that was what made a good parent. He never told us we were stupid for feeling the things we did and never pressed us to talk before we were ready. But he was there, and we trusted it.
“If you’re not ready to talk about it yet,” I started quietly, “that’s okay. But if something is eating up your insides, Sage, it’s not good to leave it there. Not forever.” I tightened my arm. “And if it feels easier to talk to me about it than your mom, I’ll listen whenever you’re ready.”
Sage sniffed up her tears and let out a shaky breath. “It only bothers me for one reason,” she whispered, then she glanced up at me, those big brown eyes still full of tears, and I knew I’d probably commit homicide if this little person asked me to.
My voice sounded like I’d chewed glass when I was finally able to speak.
“What’s the reason?”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Does it mean we’d lose you if she starts dating him? Or … or she marries him?”
A big, fat tear slid down her cheek again, and my whole chest caved in, a devastating avalanche of feelings. Carefully, I turned so I could face her. I cupped her shoulders gently. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”
