Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I hate to ask, but I do, anyway. “How much longer does he have left?”
Atlas shrugs. “He’s under hospice care at home right now. Could be a few months, could be a few weeks. They don’t know.”
I shake my head. The unknown has always been my biggest fear, but when you mix it with death, it’s terrifying. “You said he has a kid?”
Atlas takes another drink, then stares into the bottle like it might offer answers. “A little girl.”
“Christ,” I murmur, taking a healthy swig of my own beer. “So, he only has hospice workers looking after him and his daughter?”
“No, a friend of ours is helping to care for him. Maddie. She’s doing the lion’s share of the work.”
“You don’t sound like that’s a good deal.”
“It’s a good deal. I don’t get along with her all that well, but she loves him like her own brother and she’s taking excellent care of him and his daughter.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “Why don’t you like her?”
Atlas stares into his beer, then exhales through his nose. “Maddie and I just… clash.”
I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate, so I prod. “What kind of clash?”
He shrugs. “We’re wired differently. She’s one of those people who says exactly what she thinks, no filter. Calls me out all the time. Always thinks she’s right. She pushes buttons just to get a reaction.”
“So… she challenges you,” I say, lips twitching.
He shoots me a dry look. “That’s one way of putting it. I call it being a pain in the ass.”
I grin, sensing there’s more under the surface. “But you trust her with your best friend’s life. And his daughter’s.”
His expression softens a fraction. “Yeah. I might not like her… but I trust her. And that’s the only thing that matters right now.”
I nod slowly, letting that settle in.
Atlas’s voice lowers. “He asked me to look after her, Lucky.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “After his daughter? As in care for her?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t come out and say it. Just a lot of, ‘Please make sure she’s taken care of’ type stuff. He’s on a lot of pain meds, so I don’t know what he means.”
“Would you do it?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t have a choice,” Atlas says.
“There’s always a choice,” I counter, because he has an incredibly demanding career with an insane travel schedule. Single parenting is not ideal in this line of work. “Maybe not a good one, but a choice.”
He shrugs. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it but if he asks anyone to take his daughter, it will be Maddie.”
I nod, feeling the weight of it for him.
Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes on the table and I see it’s Winnie. Hope practice went well. I’m currently being serenaded by Sadie singing “I’m a Little Leprechaun” in full costume. She made me wear green eye shadow.
A grin breaks across my face, unbidden and warm.
Atlas catches it. “That Winnie?”
“Yeah.” I fire off a reply. Tell Sadie she’s the only leprechaun I’ll ever pledge allegiance to. How was your day?
I set my phone down, not expecting an immediate reply since she’s with her niece. But I know she’ll text at some point. We’ve maintained constant contact while I’ve been on this road trip, mostly by text, but some great phone calls too.
“She seems really good for you,” Atlas says, eyeing me like he already knows where this is going.
“She is. It’s stupid how fast it happened, but I don’t care. The more I’m away from her, the more I know. She’s the one.”
“You told her that yet?”
I shake my head. “Not in so many words. But I’m gonna. First, I need to survive these next couple days without doing something pathetic.”
Atlas leans back. “Like texting her every hour?”
“Too late,” I mutter, making him laugh.
Atlas drains the rest of his beer and rises from the table. “One more? My treat.”
“Yup,” I reply, and he heads off to the bar.
I nab my phone again and call my mom. She answers on the second ring. “Matteo Branson. To what do I owe this honor?”
I grin. “Hey, Ma.”
“Oh no. You’re using your sweet voice. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I assure her. “I just wanted to confirm your flight. You’re still coming in for the Vegas game?”
“Yes! And I can’t wait to see you.”
“Same.” My mom travels to many of my games in Pittsburgh and some that aren’t.
“Will I get to meet Winnie?” she asks coyly.
“That’s… kind of why I’m calling. I was wondering if I can talk you into an authentic Italian meal while you’re here?”
“I’ve got your back.” She laughs and I hear the pure joy in her voice. “I really can’t wait to meet her. I don’t know what this is, but I love watching it unfold on TikTok.”
“Yeah, well… not sure how much more we’ll post about it. Winnie’s getting some blowback and while she’s putting on a brave face, I know it bothers her.”