Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Walking away from the game used to make me think that meant I was walking away from myself. Like erasing decades of work and sacrifice. Who am I if I’m not the man in charge of the roster? The one everyone turns to when decisions need to be made?
I’m a father.
I’m a grandfather.
I’m a father-in-law.
I am more than this office, more than the depth charts that make my eyes cross, more than the record at the end of every season. I’m a man who made mistakes, who learned from them, and will never for a single second take those precious to me for granted.
If I had to choose… if someone put it plainly in front of me, career or family, I wouldn’t hesitate to walk away from this career that I thought defined me for far too long.
Hands down. Every time.
Turning back toward my desk, I study the chaos spread across it. With a heavy sigh, I pick up my pen, slip my glasses back into place, and get back to work.
At five minutes until six, I park my truck in Bellamy and Reid’s driveway. My mouth is already watering at the thought of dinner, and my smile is already tugging at my lips, because I get to see my granddaughter—well, all of them, if I’m being honest.
I knock twice, and the door is pulled open by a smiling Reid. “Glad you could join us,” he says, stepping back and giving me room to enter the house.
“Papa!” Coral cheers as her little legs race toward me.
That name, it still catches me off guard. There was a time I worried I wouldn’t be honored with that title in her life. That the mistakes of my past would echo too loudly. I bend down and catch her in my arms, lifting her into the air before settling her on my hip to place a kiss on her cheek. “I missed you,” I tell her.
“Wove you,” she says, placing a sloppy kiss on my cheek, and my insides feel like a puddle of melted goo.
“I love you, too, baby girl,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Come and eat!” Bellamy calls out. Her voice carries that same bright warmth it did when she was little, when she’d stand at the bottom of the stairs and shout that dinner was ready. Only back then, it was her mother doing the cooking, and Bellamy was just her eager little helper.
Reid leads the way into the kitchen, already grinning and reaching for a roll before he’s even fully seated. I place Coral in her high chair, brushing a curl from her forehead as she kicks her tiny legs against the tray. She squeals, slapping her palms down in excitement, and I can’t help but laugh under my breath.
The table is full of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls, and the sight makes my stomach rumble. But it’s not just the food that fills the space. It’s the sound of forks clinking against plates. It’s Reid teasing Bellamy about overseasoning the gravy. It’s Coral’s babbling as if she’s part of the conversation. It’s the easy way everyone leans in toward one another.
The house is full of love and laughter.
This is what I missed.
These moments.
Not the big milestones. Not the holidays or the grand celebrations.
This.
An ordinary evening at a crowded table and the comfort of belonging. I vow to never miss another.
“Dig in,” Bellamy tells us, passing me a plate before she takes her seat. Then she turns her eyes on me, softer now, a little vulnerable beneath her smile. “Thanks for coming, Dad.”
Dad.
The word still hits me square in the chest. I nod and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” Five words that I mean with every ounce of my soul.
I’ve spent too many nights chasing deadlines, sitting in empty offices, convincing myself I was doing it all for them. Providing. Building something secure. But somewhere along the way, I forgot that security isn’t just financial. It’s presence. It’s showing up. It’s being here when Coral flings mashed potatoes at Reid and when Bellamy rolls her eyes in exasperation that mirrors her mother so perfectly it nearly undoes me.
Reid points his index finger at me. “You’re on dish duty, old man.”
I huff a laugh. “I’m a guest.”
“You’re family,” Bellamy says lightly, but her voice is laced with something deeper, something defining.
“I love you,” I tell her, not caring that my voice cracks or that I sound like a sap.
“I love you, too, Dad.” Bellamy smiles, and I know this moment is one I’ll always remember.
Coral reaches for my finger, her tiny hand wrapping around it with surprising strength. I let her hold on, and something inside my chest settles into place. The years I can’t get back still ache. They probably always will. But sitting here, with gravy on my plate and a grandbaby tugging at my hand, I realize something important.