13
Nicole
“I’m going to kill him.” If there were a cartoon devil on my shoulder, he’d be laughing in glee at my declaration. But cartoon devils were always accompanied by cartoon angels and that little voice who whispered a reminder of the sixth commandment, “Thou shall not kill,” followed by a quote from 1 John chiding that even hate for another person meant I’d committed murder in my heart.
I balled my hands into fists, relishing the bite of my nails in my palms. Sometimes supernatural beings of my imagination were a real buzzkill. Although, I knew the admonishment was true. After all, I was far from perfect and lived under God’s grace. And I needed to extend that to others. Even Greg.
“We can have his body cremated and put into one of those living urns where his remains feed a tree,” Betsy said in all seriousness. “Since he never contributed to society in life, he can finally give back in death,”
Jocelyn and Molly stared at her, slight horror written on their faces.
“How about we come up with a plan that doesn’t land us all in jail for the rest of our lives,” Jocelyn suggested, fluttering her delicate fingers in the air.
“Fine,” Betsy huffed, as if she were put out by not being allowed to commit homicide.
“How do you think Sierra will take Greg not showing up?” Molly put a supportive hand on my shoulder.
I sighed and shook my head. “Unfortunately, this seems to be his MO. She’ll be disappointed, but I think she’s starting to not get her hopes up.” My gaze found Sierra on the field. The ball snapped, and she caught it, then handed it to another kid to run down to the endzone, but he got pushed out of bounds a few yards from where they’d started.
“I pray that she isn’t learning not to trust people. I don’t want her growing up with so many walls around her heart that she won’t let anyone in because her dad’s a jerk who can’t manage to be there for her when he says he will.”
“Maybe she needs to see someone else let their guard down every once in a while.” Jocelyn tilted her chin toward me, her direct eye contact a mixture of challenge and compassion.
If I’d had hackles, they’d have just risen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She means you’re pricklier than a porcupine when it comes to men.” Betsy rolled her eyes. “The species that can shoot their quills. You don’t let guys get close enough to inject your barbs into them without the use of projectiles.”
My mouth gaped before I snapped it shut. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
She shrugged like she couldn’t care less. “Just calling it like I see it.”
Molly’s gaze darted frantically between Betsy and me. “Okay, maybe we all need to take a deep, cleansing breath before someone says something they regret. Words are like toothpaste, you know. Once they come out of the tube, you can’t put them back in again.”
A cheer erupted around us, parents clapping and whistling. I looked down the field to see Sierra and another kid receiving slaps on the back. The numbers on the scoreboard changed.
Shoot. I’d missed a touchdown by arguing with Betsy.
Sierra and some other players from her team ran to the sideline where Drew and Coach Eric stood, more kids spilling onto the field to replace the offensive line. Drew tapped the top of their helmets as they ran past. Sierra stopped in front of Drew. Her mouthguard and helmet couldn’t hide the size of her wide smile. He gazed down at her, beaming.
My heart pinched. The scene was all wrong. Greg should be the proud father practically radiating love to Sierra. And Drew should be able to look at his own child the way he was looking at mine.
But if the scene was so wrong, then why did it feel completely right?
“So. Drew.” Jocelyn’s smile grew like the paper wrapper of a straw when Sierra crumpled it like an accordion then added a drop of water.
“What about Drew?”
Betsy huffed and folded her arms as if she was over my intentional cluelessness. Was she looking for a fight? I usually found her snark amusing, but if she wanted to go a few rounds, we could put on some gloves.
“Are you guys ever going to move past the foreplay stage?” Jocelyn’s raised, perfectly sculpted eyebrows spoke as loud as her words.
“What?!” I thundered. They thought…that we… My mind blanked.
Molly’s face turned bright pink. “Not physically. But you two have been verbally tangoing for months now.”
“We have not been…tangoing.” My stomach tightened. “I don’t even like Drew.”
Betsy barked a laugh. “Where’s Maury Povich? We need him to say, ‘The lie detector test determined that was a lie.’”
