Page 121 of Keepsakes and Kismet

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I all but toss Clover to the side in favor of wrapping my arms around Peyton.

“Good game, Hotshot,” she whispers in my ear.

“Hotshot, huh? Do you think we can sub that in for ‘Inspector?’ I like Hotshot better.”

She wrinkles her nose, stepping away from me. “You know what? I’m getting the ick when you say it.”

I squint. “You’ve been spending too much time with Clover.”

The rest of my siblings give their well wishes. Back pats from Cait, fist bumps from Carter and Christopher, and a thumbs up from Clementine. I swoop Lila up, as promised, before grabbing her brother and putting him on my free hip. Logan holds a mini soccer ball—the one he got for his birthday—and tosses it in the air. I watch it fall to the ground, and a swell of happiness balloons in my chest.

I’m proud of myself. For starting the voicemails this year, for finishing them, for making enough progress to love Peyton right.

I kiss each twin on the head. “Thanks for coming, Li-Lo.”

Lila gives me one hug before reaching for my girlfriend, saying, “Up! Up!”

Peyton glances at Caitlyn for approval, but Cait’s distractedly talking on the phone with Rhett—Lila and Logan’s dad. Even though they didn’t work out, the family still has love for him. Clover would probably trade me for one of Rhett’s horses in a second.

I try to quell a squirming Lila in my arms while still holding her brother. “I think Lila diving for you is the approval you’re looking for, Pey.”

Peyton eagerly takes her, bouncing her on her hip. “Should we get out of here?”

“Yeah, but I have to do something first.” I glance at the rest of my family, who’s scattered, talking with neighbors and friends. “Do you mind waiting for a few minutes? I’m going to run outside really quick, and then I’ll join you.”

She twists her mouth to one side. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect.” I plant a kiss on Peyton’s lips, ruffle Lila’s hair, and hand Logan to Carter.

Grabbing my gym bag, I run out the back door of the sports complex. The winter chill smacks into me all at once, burning my lungs. I could’ve stayed indoors, but I wanted—no, I needed—to do this on a real soccer field. Grass pokes through a light dusting of snow on the ground, and I run until I reach center circle.

I unzip my duffel and pull out my phone. When I told Tammy and Jeff about the voicemails, how I listened to them as part of my healing journey, she got Tyler’s old cell from the kitchen drawer and told me to keep it.

“We never turned the voicemail box off. We kept paying the bill in hopes that you were talking to someone, if not us. That maybe you’d want to call or text him now and again, even without a response back.”

“Do you ever call it, just to hear his voice?” I say.

She shakes her head with a sad smile. “I couldn’t forget my son’s voice if I tried.”

I put Ty’s phone in a memory box on the top shelf of my closet, and I haven’t called it. But the timing feels right. So, I dial a number I know by heart, and it goes straight to voicemail.

Then, I hear him. My best friend, my brother, from a lifetime that seems out of reach. His voice is higher than I remember it. Forever young, I guess.

“Hey, it’s Tyler. If you’re a sports agent, leave a voicemail. If you’re anyone else, for the love of God, just text me.”

Barking out a laugh, I gently kick a stray divot of muddy grass. The beep sounds, and I fill my lungs with air.

“Hey, Ty. It’s, um, me. I have so much to tell you.”

I swipe a rogue snowflake off my cheek. “First thing’s first, I’m absolutely jacked. I hit three hundred on bench last week. Carter has me in the gym lifting every day. Anyway, it’s important you know that I’d definitely beat you in a physical fight now. Zebra would declare me the winner, hands down.”

I grin on instinct, but the smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Speaking of Zeebs, she’s still kicking. Geriatric, but just as irritated as ever. Still misses you, though. When your parents dropped her off with my ma back then, she was, um, having trouble sleeping without you. I had one of your old hoodies, so I put it on top of her bed, and that was the first time she slept through the night without crying.”

My chest feels tight as I recall the memory. “Zeebs loves Peyton, though. Peyton’s her new favorite person—mine, too. She’s this woman I met at work, kind of. You’d love her, man. She gives me so much shit, but God. She’s so good. Beautiful and smart, and fucking hilarious, too.”

The back of my eyes starts to sting, and a lump forms in my throat. “I haven’t told anyone this, but, lately, I-I’ve been feeling like… I feel like you sent her to me.”

A tear falls, and the cold hits it immediately, sticking the salt water to my cheek. “I know that sounds crazy. It’s probably crazy, right? You know I’ve always been a logical guy. But she’s just so miraculous, there’s no other way I can explain her. She has to be the result of some sort of intervention beyond my beliefs.”