Hope Unbroken (Unveiled Series Book 3) (20 page)

chapter twenty-eight

Last Dance

With my final paper turned in and exams completed, I should’ve been riding the freedom wave. Two weeks of rushing through the start of May had quarantined Jess’s failed mission to some cobwebby corner of my mind. Still, a grip of unrest wouldn’t let me go. It’d been mounting all semester. And the minute I walked into the center for my last day of work, it almost demolished me from the inside out.

I never dreamed I’d reach a day of wishing for more paperwork to do, but staying busy was the only thing keeping me together. The center had sown as much into me as I’d sown into it. Maybe more. It probably didn’t make sense to be so attached after only a year. But it honestly didn’t matter what logic said. My heart had a mind of its own.

Spending all morning trying not to cry in front of the kids had depleted just about every ounce of energy I had. I’d chugged a bottle of iced tea after lunch and honed all my attention on to my office duties for the rest of the day. I jotted down every detail I could think of, leaving instructions for whoever’d be taking my place.

Aside from a few open-ended comments, Trey’d left me to my OCD behavior until Ms. Mendierez entered the office. He hovered beside my desk with a feigned look of surprise at her stopping by. At least he hadn’t thrown me a going away party or something. Individual goodbyes had been hard enough.

Ms. Mendierez inched her purse strap up her slender shoulder. “I can’t stay long, but I wanted to be sure I told you.” She looked down at her waitress uniform. “This is my last week at the café. I got a new job.”

I’d watched life return to her eyes over the last few months, but today they seemed more alive than ever. “That’s awesome. Congratulations.”

She tucked her hands inside her apron’s front pocket and arched her shoulders. “I finally figured out what I want to do with my life, thanks to you. And when I heard there was going to be a vacant spot here, I just knew it was right.”

My glance ricocheted from her to Trey and back.
Here?
The pieces came together more slowly than they should’ve.

She lifted her chin with a gained sense of dignity. “I may have lost my baby, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop being a mama.” She peered out the back door to the basketball court. “Those boys need someone in their lives to love on them, encourage their dreams.” She faced me again. “I have big shoes to fill, Emma, but I’m willing to try.”

It was the perfect fit for her. Nothing could’ve made me happier. The tears I’d been stifling all day just about won the war.

“And I’m not the only one you inspired. Mrs. Jackson did it,” she said. “She opened her Mama’s Café.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t blink. Positive if I moved at all, that’d be it. The avalanche would be relentless.

Trey lifted off the side of the desk and showered us with an intuitive smile. “It’s amazing how many dreams are simply waiting for us to take that first step of faith.”

Perspective. He’d never lost it. Not once. And of course, he’d been right all along.

“Well, then.” Ms. Mendierez cleared her throat and dabbed the skin under her eye. “You take care of yourself, Emma.” She held out a hand.

Without hesitation, I threw my arms around her instead and held on for longer than she was probably comfortable with. “You be strong and courageous.”

With a slight quiver across her shoulders, she held me tighter. “For Dee,” she whispered.

“For Dee.”

She squeezed both my hands, smiled with her eyes, and strode for the door. I stayed at my desk and, once again, stared at another reminder of the legacy Dee’s life had left behind.

A hint of the sunset streamed through the door as it slowly shut behind her.

I choked back the rise of emotion. If I’d made it this far without crying, I could finish strong.

I dove into my work for another couple of hours and steeled myself a little more with each hug goodbye. By the time eight o’clock rolled around, my desk was officially spotless. There wasn’t a single paper left to file or a voicemail to record.

Aside from Trey, everyone else had already left for the day. I strolled through the quiet building, brushing my fingers across furniture as I passed. Each desk. Each corner. I memorized every scene for fear they’d deteriorate with time.

I saved the basketball court for last. Even newly renovated, it still held too many memories to count. On the bench, I locked one arm under the other and leaned into the bricks.

It wasn’t goodbye forever. I promised I’d see the kids every time I came in town to visit Jaycee and Trevor. It’d be okay. Wouldn’t it?

“Thought you weren’t supposed to be here alone,” A. J. said from the fence.

I hooked a thumb toward the door. “Trey’s inside. What are you doing here?”

He sauntered across the court with a lopsided grin. “Kids aren’t the best at keeping secrets. They told me it was your last day.”

Of course they did.

He dropped onto the bench beside me. Chuckling, he reached for the paperclip pinning my bangs out of my face. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.”

“I kind of figured it would be. Thought I’d swing by to make sure you were all right.”

Head lowered, I tugged the zipper on my jacket up and down. “That’s sweet. I’m fine, though. Really.”

“Fine?” He made a face. “Mm hmm.”

How many times had he heard me say that one? “Okay, a
tad
emotional.”

He laughed. “Still trying to win those understatement of the year awards, huh?”

I shoved his shoulder, but he pressed his arm right back into mine. We sat there, side by side. No words. Just friendship. Memories.

“I can’t believe we’re finally here,” he said. “Graduation, I mean.”

“Tell me about it. Seems surreal, doesn’t it?”

He stretched out his legs and crossed one ankle over the other. “Guess we can’t suspend time, after all.”

I tried not to snort. “Story of my life.” I looked out toward the top of the court. How could four years have passed so quickly? “It drives us forward whether we’re ready or not.”

“Oh, I think we’re ready.” As usual, his voice rang full of confidence.

“You’re that sure, huh?”

He lifted off the wall and angled toward me. “Sometimes you just know when it’s the right time to move on.”

Maybe. But letting go was the hard part. I gripped the edge of the bench. “So, what are you going to do after graduation?”

“Actually,” he said, “I’m sticking around here.”

His eyes told me “
here
” meant more than only Portland.

“Don’t look so surprised. Trey’s been asking me for a while to come on board full-time.” He swiped off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “It took me longer than it probably should’ve to figure it out, but my place is here with the kids.”

“What about sports medicine?”

“Psh. The kids are way more entertaining than pro athletes.”

We both laughed.

He shrugged. “Honestly, I think I’ve always known I wasn’t going to do anything with sports med. I was just afraid to come to college undeclared.”

“I know the feeling.” I craned my head against the bricks. “What about your dad?”

He tucked his hat back on. “He’ll get over it eventually.”

The trees on the other side of the fence shook in the wind and streaked a shadow across his face, along with a hint of pain.

Walking away from his dad’s expectations couldn’t have been easy. Maybe we were all a little braver than we thought.

He stared at the net on the opposite end of the court. “After coming here, it was like—I don’t know—like reaching a crossroads or something.” He held one hand out to the side. “I could choose what the world considers success.” He held out the other hand. “Or I could choose what I find most fulfilling.”

He might as well have been reading straight out of my journal from last year.

“I’m glad you made the right choice.” For him. For Trey. The kids. There wasn’t a question in my mind that he belonged here.

He lowered his chin. “I’m not sure I would’ve if it weren’t for you.”

Me?

“You’ve taught me a lot, Em. I know you don’t see it, but it’s true.”

His sincerity added to the pang that’d been snowballing inside me all day.

He broke the hold he had on my eyes. “You’ve really outdone yourself on this one. The court looks amazing.”

I couldn’t argue with the second part. A freshly painted pole. New net. Clear lines on the pavement. There were even potted trees in each corner and baby ivy vines climbing the side of the fence facing the street.

“Well, you’ll have to thank the kids for that.” I crossed the court, taking it all in. “This is
their
court now. They worked hard to earn it.”

“It’s yours too.”

“I know.” I bent and traced my initials carved into the base of the post. “It’ll always be a part of me.”

I stayed there for another minute before strolling back to the bench.

“So, what about you?” he asked as I approached. “Where’s life taking you after graduation?”

“Nashville. At some point, anyway.” I took my seat again. “Actually, I’ve been thinking. If there isn’t already an organization there similar to the center, I might start one.”

A. J. smiled. “Wouldn’t have expected any less.” He reached inside his jacket, withdrew a wrapped gift, and placed it on my lap. “An early graduation present.”

“A. J., you didn’t have to—”

“Just open it. You’ll like it. Trust me.”

Relenting, I peeled back the wrapping paper. “
Labyrinth
?”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t warn Riley about your thing for David Bowie.” He looked from side to side and leaned forward. “It’ll be our little secret.”

I shook my head at him. My heart turned into a pinball machine with way too many emotions colliding into each other. I drew the DVD close. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He dipped his chin and rose from the bench. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep the Journey CD. For posterity.”

“How can I deny a convert to eighties’ music?”

Laughing, he extended a hand to help me up. “You were right about Jaycee.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and ran his thumb over the screen. “She definitely didn’t go for my changing up her plans.” He set his cell on the bench and faced me again. “But maybe we can have that dance now. Friend to friend. One last time.”

His eyes didn’t hold the same smoldering look they had in the past. Just friendship. One I treasured.

I took his hand. The entire court filled with the sound of “Open Arms” as we shared the final dance in this chapter of our lives.

So much for making it through the whole day without crying. The weight of it all soaked into the front of A. J.’s jacket.

Not that he’d ever let me drown. He held my hand and twirled me across the ground. Instead of tripping over my feet, I spun with grace and stopped on perfect cue.

He raised a brow. “Those dance lessons paid off.”

I twirled in and landed my back to his chest like a seasoned ballroom dancer. “Someone once taught me how to dance with
swag
.”

He cracked up. “You got it, Dancing Queen. Dee’d be quite proud.” He circled me around toward him.

I returned my chin to his shoulder and swayed with the music.

“I mean that, Em,” he said. “Dee’d be proud of all you’ve done for the center and the way you’ve grown as a person.”

I wasn’t the only one who’d grown. I clutched the back of his jacket and fought another round of tears. “How am I supposed to say goodbye to all of this?”

“You’re not really letting go,” he said. “The friendships you’ve made here, the experiences you’ve gone through. They’re part of who you are now. They’ll go wherever you go.”

His words squeezed around the piece of my heart that his life had forever impacted. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Of course it is.” He leaned back slightly. “You see me now, right? Just take that image with you.” His gaze trailed over my face. “Memories are like photos. You pull them out any time you want. All you have to do is close your eyes. It’s almost real.”

Almost real. “But not enough.” I faced the stars, overwhelmed with the memories of all we’d gone through together, of how much we’d grown, how much had changed. “I love you, A. J.” I always would.

He rested his cheek against my temple. “But not enough,” he whispered.

Our journey over the last two years had caused that truth to stretch deep enough in both our hearts to a place where it could finally heal.

He kissed my cheek as he let go. “C’mon. I’ll walk you to your car.”

I stopped at the fence and turned one last time. A. J. was right. It was time to move on. But I didn’t leave the center, saying goodbye. I left that night, taking it with me.

Back at my apartment, I removed my keys from the knob and swung the door shut with my foot. The floor-length curtains in the living room waved in a breeze from the window.