Page 122 of Promise

To love someone so completely, so wholeheartedly, so unconditionally, like Mirabelle, and then to have her taken away, would be unimaginable.

I didn’t want to imagine it.

I wouldn’t survive the loss either.

To tear that little baby from a couple who love her like we do, it wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right.

And for half a minute, I wanted to pack Trin and Mirabelle into my truck and run away. Run where no one could find us.

Instead, we stay put, and in each other’s arms, holding tighter every day for the rest of the week.

The countdown until adoption day is in the single digits, and the date can’t get here fast enough. I want Trinity’s name on the dotted line. In the designated box for Mother.

Technically, she didn’t have to fill in a father, but I was hoping she would. I was hoping she’d set my name right along with hers.

And I plan to discuss my thoughts when she gets home from work tonight.

We needed a little time to get through that bump of Marissa visiting Trin, but I didn’t want anything to get in the way of Mirabelle’s future.

Two parents were better than one. Heaven forbid something ever happened to Trin, I wanted her to be assured Mirabelle would be taken care of. I am here for her. And being listed on her birth certificate is a start.

I’ve just settled Mirabelle for a morning nap when I get a call. The caller ID identifies a name I easily recognize.

Max.

While I always thought my first instinct would be to jump at the idea of Max calling after all these months, I hesitate a second before I click to answer.

“Hey, Max,” I say, noticing a slight tremor in my voice.

“Dart Rivers,” he says, in a slight Floridian drawl. There’s a smile in his voice, which is a positive sign.

In some ways, Max reminded me of Russell Haven, Trin’s dad. He saw potential in me, a man just dipping his toe into his forties. He knew I was sad. Not unhappy, just aching for something. A purpose. A direction. A focus.

Max had seen me race in the canyon, a slightly uncommon spot to recruit drivers, but not completely unheard of.

He’d been a good mentor, a decent manager, and a bit of a manipulator.

“What’s up?” I ask, my voice still clipped.

“Gonna be in your area. Thought we could catch a race together.”

“I haven’t been driving,” I admit, more important things to chase than the taillights of another car. Like my wife’s heart.

“What have you been doing?”

I pause, not certain I want to tell Max that I’ve been making home improvements, babysitting a child, and falling back in love with my life.

I’d never stopped loving my wife.

“What can I do for you, Max?” I ask instead, still hurt about how things went down between us back in May.

He hums. “Was wondering if you could still meet me at the race. Let’s talk. In person.”

“You makin’ me an offer to come back.” I felt a little kicked to the curb after that last accident. Granted, I’d been bruised and battered. That close call was closer than I thought. I was rattled by it like I’d never been rattled before.

Max and the team doctor suggested rest and maybe a therapist.

I came home to Rogue River instead, knowing deep down what I really needed.