Page 26 of Playing With Forever

“Well, fuck me, but you’re an asshole.”

“I know, I walked away⁠—”

“No. You’re an asshole because Jackie and I spent hours last night coming up with all the ways to remove your head from your ass and waltzed in here this morning adjusted.”

I could see Echo’s woman, Jackie, being fully on board to plot my demise. She was sweet until you crossed her or someone she loved then the sweet turned sour.

“Bet she enjoyed that.”

Echo nodded. “You have no idea.” He paused and gave me a serious once-over. “You sure you’re good?”

“Right now, yeah. But I’m gonna fuck this up,” I admitted.

“I’ll be here to help you work through it.”

Undoubtedly, he would. Echo’s loyalty was second to none.

“I’m counting on it.”

Echo pushed off the bench, and at six-two, the beast still had three inches on me. I had to tip my head back to keep his gaze.

“Josie’s a good woman,” he told me something I already knew.

“I know.”

“No, Evan, you don’t know, but you’re gonna learn. You’ve never had a good woman, one who will work with you through the shit of life. One who will stand next to you. One who will save you from yourself. You won’t need me to help you sort your head because if you’re smart enough to give it to her, she’ll help you sort it.”

Echo’s radio squawked, cutting our conversation short.

“Fuckin’ hate working on Sundays,” he grumbled. “Gear up, brother we’ve got doors to kick in.” Echo was nearly at the door when he stopped and looked back. “Pleased as fuck for you.”

“Thanks, brother.”

I turned back to my locker and pulled out my vest.

Within the hour, I’d be doing exactly what Echo had said—kicking in doors. I should’ve been thinking about the day ahead or my conversation with Lindy this morning, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss in my kitchen last night or the way Josie smiled at me when I closed her in her car.

There was no way this was going to be this easy.

I was going to fuck it up.

I could already feel my walls rebuilding.

My only hope was that Echo was right—Josie would see me through.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thankfully, Sundays at the center were quiet—at least they were for me. It was the day I used to catch up on all the things I couldn’t get done with a full roster of kids and staff. It wasn’t that weekends at the Hope Center weren’t bustling it was just that activities didn’t require my involvement. The gym was normally packed with pick-up basketball games. All but one of the computer labs were closed, and weekends were for adults and kids who had homework or research to do. No games, no social media, no scrolling YouTube. The library was open, and it was only one of many function rooms, which were mainly used for some sort of parenting class, or occasionally, Womens Inc. would use the room to help with resumes, college applications, or finding scholarships for either parents to continue their education or kids who were beginning theirs.

This also meant I could leave early, which turned out to be a blessing when I got home and found my water heater had—in Kane’s words—shit the bed.

Over the years, I’d prided myself on being self-sufficient. With no other choice, I’d learned basic home maintenance. I couldn’t afford to call in a handyman every time something broke. When my boys got old enough, they’d pitched in and, in some cases, had taken over the chores that required more than a screwdriver and hammer. To this day, one of my boys came home to clean my gutters, not wanting their mother on a ladder. Not to mention, if a chainsaw was involved, they were on it—as in all over it—with the explicit directive that I wasn’t to touch the saw.

“No mother of mine will be out in the heat limbing trees,” DJ had declared.

“Don’t you dare even think about cleaning up the tree, Mamalious,” Kane had ordered after a tree fell during a storm.

It was also Kane who had installed an alarm in the water heater closet, explaining it would alert me at the slightest trickle of water.