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He wouldn’t even look at me, and somehow that made me feel even worse. I was about to push him when I heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass followed by some colorful cuss words.

I’d come back and talk to Ryan in a minute. Make it right. I owed him at least that. I hurried out to the diner to find Olivia hunched over the mess, carefully picking it up. The moment she saw me, her face paled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”

“It’s fine. Are you okay? No one got hurt?” I looked around, feeling all the eyes in the place on me.

“I’m fine. It was an empty glass. I was just clearing tables. Whoa, what happened to your head?” she changed halfway through her sentence.

Guess the caked-on layers of makeup hadn’t worked as well as I hoped they would.

“It’s nothing. Just a silly accident. Now, let’s get this cleaned up before someone steps on it,” I told her, focusing on an issue I could actually resolve.

I hadn’t been convinced that hiring Olivia was the right move, but so far, she’d proven to be worth her weight in gold. She covered shifts and was happy to start early or work late. All she asked for was Friday and Saturday nights off so she could go to gigs when she had them, which was fine by me. Olivia was an aspiring singer who’d had her heart broken in Nashville before slinking back to Wattle Creek with her tail between her legs. A few times, I’d caught her singing under her breath, and even though I wasn’t a big country music fan, songs about trucks and beer just didn’t do it for me, her songs were strangely poetic. Filled with pain, longing, and heartbreak. All things I understood way too well.

I could feel all eyes in the diner fixed on me. Keeping my head ducked, I helped clean up the mess before disappearing into the kitchen and hiding.

“Mom?” River called out from where he was sitting at the counter, devouring a mountain of waffles.

I sighed. I couldn’t ignore my own son, even if I was embarrassed.

I stepped out of the kitchen, ignoring the curious glances being shot in my direction.

“How are the waffles?” I asked, pasting on a smile.

“Delicious. Wanna try one?” he offered, holding out his fork for me. My son was growing up so fast, but at the end of the day, he was still my baby boy and the one thing in this world I’d do anything for—including go bike riding.

I accepted the bite with an overexaggerated moan. They weren’t bad. Too sweet for me this early, but I could definitely see the appeal.

“See, they’re good.” River beamed.

“They are. Ryan’s a good cook,” I declared a little louder than necessary, making sure he heard my praise.

“Mom?”

“Yes, River?”

“Does your head hurt?” The concern on his face almost broke my heart. He might be an eight-year-old boy, but at the end of the day, he was a sweetheart who wore his heart on his sleeve.

“I’m okay,” I assured him, squeezing his hand.

“You promise?” he questioned, not looking convinced.

“I promise,” I replied while silently making a deal with myself that if the headache was still lingering tomorrow, I’d go and see someone about it. “Now, finish your waffles, then wash up. You don't want to be late.”

Chapter twenty-one

Cody

Ten days was nine too many. I’d been poked and prodded and kept in the dark by every doctor, surgeon, and specialist in Dallas, and I was done.

“Just fucking tell me already,” I sighed heavily, sitting in a room full of men who thought they controlled my future.

“Cody,” my coach started, his tone loaded with warning.

“Tell me already!” I demanded.

I looked at the team doctor. He looked at the physio. The physio looked at the surgeon. He stared at his phone. It seemed like everyone was looking everywhere but at me. If I didn’t get an answer soon, I was going to scream.