Page 99 of Scoring Eden

“Are you sure?”

Nope, but I’m committed now.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” he squeals and leaps at me for a hug. “We are so gonna win this. When can we do it?”

The longer I can leave it, the better. “When’s the deadline for the project?”

“Next month, I think.”

“Then we’ll do it at a home game in a few weeks.”

“At a home game? We’re gonna do it at a soccer game? Seriously, for real?”

“Yep.” I grin. “We’re gonna livestream it on social media and everything.”

He gapes, frozen with his eyes wide as the moon. It’s an expression so sweet, so funny, that any reservations I had about doing this are forgotten. It’s worth it, just to see the kid looking so happy.

He deserves all the good things in the world. His mom too. Hell, Eden deserves fucking everything. And it’s moments like this, seeing firsthand what an incredible child she’s raised, and having him look at me like I’m a superhero in a Marvel movie, that I wish more than anything that I was strong enough to give it to her.

And as I tuck Macon back into bed, ruffle his hair again, and kiss Mr. Snuggles on the head, I realize just how fucking much it’s going to suck when I can’t do this anymore. When our arrangement has met its expiration date and they’ve moved into an apartment of their own. One where I can’t play video games with the kid anymore or listen to his mom sing in the shower when she thinks I can’t hear.

“Hey, Alex?” he yawns. “Can I ask you something?”

Red and orange stars sprinkle across his face in the darkness, illuminating him just enough for me to catch the nervous expression on his face.

“You okay?”

“When everyone came over for dinner, Salem and Ivy called you Uncle Alex.” Then quieter, he says, “Would it be okay if I call you Uncle Alex too?”

This must be what it feels like when your heart explodes. A lump the size of an orange lodges itself in my throat, my eyes tingling for what must be the third time during this conversation. Apparently, Macon has quite the gift for making emotionally stunted men cry. Something to look into for the future, I suppose.

“Yeah, buddy. You can call me Uncle Alex.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

EDEN

I should have walked away.

As soon as I knew Macon was okay, I should have crept back down the hall and not continued to eavesdrop like I was part of the Nixon administration circa 1972. At the very least, I should have left when Alex started sharing things about himself that he’d never once mentioned to me.

But no. That would have required me to have a little fucking decency and respect for Alex’s privacy, which, evidently, I do not possess. Because I’m still here, still lingering just outside the bedroom door—open, as promised—with a litany of new information I’m finding difficult to process.

Alex’s parents died.

Alex is adopted.

Alex is going to cut off all his hair to help my son win a school contest.

Each new piece of information slots into the puzzle. He lost his parents when he was ten. So young, and yet old enough to take his little sister under his wing and vow to protect her forever.

No wonder he’s terrified of relationships.

It isn’t love he’s scared of, but loss.

“What are you doing?”

I jolt, my head snapping toward him. “Oh, um, I was just getting something from my room.”