Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (black books to read txt) 📗

his freshly shaved skin. His eyes wander to my face, and he lowers his hands. “Oh, hi, Ellie. You’ve grown up.”

“Yes, I did,” I mumble because I’m not sure what else to say.

Cristina’s glance also moves to me, as if she’s also just noticed me.

“Hi, Cristina,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to intrude.”

Wyatt’s Mom gives me a wary smile. “I know, sweetheart.”

My cheeks heat, and I’m torn about what to do.

Wyatt told me that his mother never wanted outsiders to know about her marriage’s real issues. She might not be happy that I’m a silent spectator to their family drama.

At the same time, I’m Wyatt’s therapist, and I can’t leave him alone without knowing whether his coping skills have grown strong enough.

I exchange a glance with Wyatt and the grateful glint in his eyes—almost as if I’m his safety line in this unexpected situation—is enough for me to ignore my fear of being his supporter. I’m staying.

Wyatt turns back to his mom. “Don’t you remember how you were after Dad left? Or how he behaved when he was still with you?”

Cristina sighs. “I do. Of course, I do. But Mason changed. He cleaned up and he regrets his past behavior. He would like a chance to demonstrate his good will to us. To become part of our lives again.”

“I. Don’t. Want. That.” Wyatt’s voice increases in intensity, loud fury and silent hurt percolating from his words.

I’m just about to lift a gentle hand to put it on his arm to remind him he needs to be more mindful when I see him adjust his weight and shrug his shoulders. Almost as if… Yeah, as if he’s positioning himself into the centered-tree posture I taught him.

My eyes flick to his lips. They’re moving ever so slightly with no sound.

My heart leaps.

Wyatt is counting. He’s practicing a self-soothing technique.

I capture Cristina’s gaze and give her an encouraging smile. I tilt my head imperceptibly toward Mason to show that if there was ever a moment for Wyatt’s father to present his excuses, this might just be it.

Cristina lays a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Tell Wyatt what you told me.”

Wyatt’s father draws in a big breath and takes a small step toward his son. “I’ve been on a strict program for over two years now, Wyatt. I waited this long before contacting you because I wanted to be sure I cracked all my nasty addictions. I’m free of my slavery to imbibing, and I understand now how I mishandled you both.”

“Mishandled?” Wyatt interrupts. His voice is cool but composed, reassuring me that he recalls not only how to act when his anger rises, but that the exercise works for him. “That’s a funny way of saying abused.”

“You’re right, son.” Mason’s face contorts into a grimace of shame. “I did abuse you, and I’m truly sorry for that. But I’m here to try to work on that. I’m ready to do whatever you and your mother require of me to make you see I’m not the same man I once was. I… I followed all your games, and I—”

“Ah, and that’s supposed to make it all okay?” Wyatt crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You watching me on TV? You think that makes you a good father?”

Cristina shakes her head. “Son, the Bible teaches us that when people repent of their sins, we should forgive them.”

Wyatt’s face steels. “I’m not sure that’s possible for me. There are just too many times to forgive.”

His mom bends forward and squeezes his hand. “Do you remember what Jesus answered to Peter when he asked how many times sinning brothers or sisters should be forgiven?”

Though she asked Wyatt, it’s Mason who answers.

“Jesus said ‘not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” He blinks at his son and taps on his own chest. “I’m only asking that you forgive me once. If you can do that, I promise you I’ll never again do anything to hurt you or your mother.”

Wyatt snorts. “You’re not only sober but also a devoted Christian now? Oh, please…”

“Wyatt,” Cristina snaps, “don’t be—”

I shake my head, and she catches my glance and stops.

Mason puts a hand on her shoulder. “No, Cristina. Our son has every right to doubt me. I’ve made giant mistakes. I was a terrible husband and an even worse father. The only thing I can do now is to ask Wyatt’s forgiveness and wait patiently till he’s ready to give it to me.”

“Well, don’t get your hopes up. You might just wait until forever,” Wyatt murmurs, but his tone has lost a few grades of iciness.

“I’m ready to do that as well,” Mason answers. “Anything to redeem myself to you. Your mother and Ellie be my witnesses.”

He glances at me, and as our eyes meet, I realize for the first time that Wyatt and his father have a very similar eye color. As a child, I always thought Mason’s irises were hazel, but now, tinted with sorrow, they dance in the same toffee hue as his son’s.

Mason turns to his son, he and Wyatt gape at each other.

The weight of their silence is accentuated by the cheerful Cowboy Cha Cha the band is playing.

Cristina’s eyes move to me and she frowns. “What now?” she mouths.

I know she’d like to speak some more to try and convince Wyatt to keep an open mind and heart to his father, but I think it’s best to end this chat here. Mason has stated his case. Now the ball is in Wyatt’s court. If Wyatt is forced to give his father an answer now, it won’t be what Mason and Cristina hope.

Give him time. I try to channel my silent message through my gaze to Wyatt’s mom, and she seems to understand me, because she nods ever so slightly.

I clear my voice and say out loud, “All right. I think this is probably enough for tonight. It might be better if we all go home and think about what’s been said.”

Cristina immediately agrees. “Ellie’s right.