Page 45 of Flashback for the Forward

Losing Bridget the first time had sent me careening into a tailspin that had taken nearly a decade to course correct from. I was terrified of what might happen to me the second time. Was I even strong enough to survive it?

Cinder rubbed against my leg, and with a heavy sigh, I lifted my head, dropping one hand to pet him. “Hey, boy.”

He stared up at me with his big blue eyes and let out a meow.

“Yeah, I know. I miss her already too.”

As he butted his head against my hand, there was a more insistent meow, and I realized what he wanted.

When he was still a kitten, I’d bought a cat puzzle which had compartments to hide treats. Cinder was smart; he figured out how to slide the pieces to reveal the treats hidden beneath and to flip the lids to gobble up even more of them within a week. Soon, it became our nightly tradition. If I went into the kitchen after sunset, he was all over me, anticipating the moment when I would grab the box of treats from the top of the fridge and fill the puzzle.

“All right. All right. Come on.” I rose to my feet.

Cinder bolted past me, down the stairs, his meows becoming more frequent and increasing in volume.

He was waiting by the fridge when I finally made it into the kitchen. One shake of the treat canister, and he took off running to the living room, where the empty puzzle lay near his cat bed.

Crouching, I had to fend him off with one hand so he didn’t go to town on the treats before I had a chance to fill every compartment.

“Okay, have at it, bud.” I stood, watching as he made quick work of uncovering the treats and hungrily chowed down.

Motion caught the corner of my eye, and I lifted my gaze to the wall of pane glass windows. The light coming from inside the house illuminated enough of the patio so that I could see a figure seated on the swing bolted to the overhang, and my knees nearly buckled in relief.

My feet moved automatically, and I slid the glass door open before stepping onto the patio.

Willing my racing heart to settle, I shoved both hands into my pockets. “Hey. What are you doing out here?”

Bridget stared straight ahead, clutching a chunky-knit cardigan tighter to her chest. “Who’s Kennedy?”

Hearing my ex-wife’s name fall from her lips acted like a sledgehammer to my gut, knocking the wind out of me.

It took a full minute to recover, and even then, my voice came out strained. “I can explain—”

When her head whipped around, there was so much hurt swimming in her green eyes. If it were within my power, I would go back to the night I met Kennedy and walk out of that bar without a second glance. But since I couldn’t change the past, the only option I had was to own up to it.

Gripping the back of my neck, I said, “She’s my ex-wife.”

Bridget’s inhale was so sharp it sliced through my insides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

My head dropped against the exterior of the house. “There really wasn’t anything to tell. That chapter of my life is over.”

“Why is she still coming to your games?”

That had been a point of contention between Kennedy and me for the past two years. I’d asked her multiple times to stop attending, but she was adamant about continuing to support my career—mainly because she still believed there was a chance that we would reconnect. At the end of the day, I couldn’t control who the Surf sold season tickets to, so I couldn’t exactly stop her from showing up.

“I’ll admit she’s having a hard time accepting the finality of our divorce.”

Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “She’s still in love with you.”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“And you?” she prompted.

I responded with a definitive “No.” Now was not the time to confess that it was impossible to still be in love with someone you had never truly loved in the first place.

“Why—?” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Never mind, it’s really none of my business.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”